Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Owen is watching me. His eyes glisten as they stare, and I see about a million questions hiding in his beautiful grey eyes. What is he thinking? I unwillingly stare at the way his muscles seem to ripple with his every movement as he prowls toward me.
He’ll be the death of me.
He reaches across and takes my hand in his. My skin throbs with the contact. Tiny sparks pass where we touch, and they careen up my arm until the silver marks dance like a disco ball.
Whoa.
The awareness of his body from mine is like a living thing inside me.
“What? Who are you?” Knock it off, Mum. No one believes you didn’t notice the seven-foot hellhound.
“Why are you even here, pawing my daughter? Keep your hands to yourself. She. Is. Taken. This is coven business, shifter. So why don’t you”—she flicks her fingers at him—“hurry along. Matthew, get rid of him. He shouldn’t be here for coven business. ”
My dad hunches and makes a sad sounding sigh.
Dad learned a long time ago not to interfere with the women of our coven.
His words, not mine. I think he thought it was best, as he was—and again, I quote him—outnumbered.
For a man who is always professional and in control of his work life, he’s really under the thumb when it comes to his wife.
“Hellhound,” Owen corrects. “And I hunt people who break our laws,” he says in a dark warning.
Mum makes an unimpressed humph sound. You have to hand it to her. She really doesn’t give a monkey’s.
I don’t know what Owen will do if she roots around in her bag for a nasty potion.
“No, he is staying. He is with me,” I tell her. “But don’t, you know, kill off my mum,” I mutter out of the side of my mouth.
Owen squeezes my hand in reassurance.
Mum glares at me in a way that screams, “Wait until I get you alone.” “I can make him forget if needed,” she says with a malevolent smile.
“Mum! Don’t you dare.” My breath seizes up in my throat.
There is a hallow silence that raises the hair on my arms. The hellhound is preternaturally still, and his face is carefully blank.
Is she trying to get herself killed? His hellhound power floods the room, battering my mum’s weaker magical signature out of the way like a battering ram.
“Wow, you are racking up illegal magic use, Mum,” Diane mumbles.
“Power hungry bitch,” Ava says under a breath.
The hellhound’s power has nothing on mine. I drop Owen’s warm hand and move. I glare at my mother, and with each stride I take toward her, the livid magic inside me floods the space. “You will not touch him. You will have to go through me first and I’m not a little girl anymore,” I snarl.
The room goes dark, and outside, thunder cracks. Heather screams in fright at the lightning strike that follows. It hits the roof of the hotel and travels down through the building, dancing and crackling against the windows. The sweet, pungent aroma of ozone and magic fills the air.
Owen’s tree-trunk sized arm wraps around my waist and he boldly lifts me. He moves me away from my coven, away from my crazy mother. He puts me gently on the floor. Is it time for them to go home yet? I willingly shuffle behind him, and I rest my cheek against his back.
Crikey, Tuesday, that was a little bit dramatic.
It has been a long day; that is my excuse. I glance at the clock on the wall and groan. Is it only two o’clock? I yawn so big my jaw pops. It has been a crazy day, and I need to keep my wits about me, but soon, I will need sticks to hold my eyes open. I could sleep for a week.
I push the clouds away and take a deep, cleansing breath to settle my magic. I breathe deep until all I can smell is his scent. Oxygen has vanished, replaced by cinnamon. “Sorry,” I murmur.
With flaring nostrils, Daisy peeks over Owen’s shoulder.
She chirps and a little puff of smoke spirals from her nose.
With cat-like agility, her claws stab into Owen’s shoulder and back as she scrambles down to me.
Owen grunts. “Gentle,” I reprimand. I then smile when her scaly little body wiggles into my waiting hands.
I move to stand next to Owen as Daisy clambers up my arm and then balances between my shoulders, her back legs on either side of my neck.
Her front claws dig into my head, pulling out wisps of hair.
Her tail whips from side to side and her wings flutter for balance. I don’t bat an eye, used to her antics.
Luckily, at the moment, she’s all smoke, but I have it in the back of my mind. I could always use a hair potion to fix any accidents if my cute little beast set my hair alight. Owen’s hand drops to envelop mine and we thread our fingers together.
“Don’t make a choice just yet.” Mum’s pointy finger is back, and she draws an imaginary circle in the air around us as she moves forward, seemly unaffected by my outburst or the quietly livid shifter.
“I see where this is all going. A hellhound? Really, Tuesday?” Her eyes take us in with pity, and she shakes her head in disappointment. “You will change your mind when you get bored with his muscles.”
She looks at Dad and narrows her eyes. “Thinking about it…” She taps her bottom lip. “The longer we take to decide on the lucky husband, the better and the more offers we might get.
“If we rush in and pick a witch, others might think we are too keen. It makes sense to wait. I can make them work for it.” My mum beams a creepy, satisfied smile.
I am glad Owen is here to grab a hold of me, otherwise, I’d be going with my urge to knock my head against the reception desk, while wailing, why me, why me? Why won’t she bloody listen? Nothing I say is going to change her mind. In her head, she’s finally hit the magic jackpot.
Mum wets her thumb with her tongue, then leans forward and rubs the spit-coated digit on my face.
On. My. Face. I throw myself back away from her as I make a sound of disgust. “Mum, gross.” I wrinkle my nose and scrub at my cheekbone.
Ew. I can smell her spit and it makes me want to gag. “Why would you do that?”
“The marks are real?” she asks. “I thought they were some frivolous spell.”
What? Marks? Oh, the glowing, swirling magical marks all over my face and body. “Of course, they’re real.”
“Mum, I don’t think a spit bath is going to remove powerful magic,” Jodie says with exasperation.
“Unless there’s something in your spit that we don’t know about,” Diane snarls. She still hasn’t let off her glaring.
“Tuesday, are you not going to offer us refreshments? I think we will be more comfortable sitting down in the lounge area. If you will all follow me.”
Yeah, why not. Make yourself at home, I think as Mum sashays across the room and Dad, my sisters, and Heather obediently follow. Andy and his trainers squeak along at the rear.
“Andy has been so helpful while we’ve been dealing with this nightmare.
He has really stepped up, hasn’t he, Dad?
” Diane says to change the subject. Dad makes a noncommittal shrug and mumbles what I think is an agreement beneath his breath.
As if on cue, my magic pings with the lie.
Huh. Interesting. I’m not the only one who thinks Andy is a dick and my sister is waaay out of his league.
But Diane is an adult and if she wants to love a man-child, that’s up to her as long as he doesn’t hurt her. I hope the creepy shit doesn’t hurt her.
The shifter must also be on Owen’s shit list, as when Andy attempts to take a seat next to me, he has to scramble out of the massive hellhound’s way.
Instead of standing behind me like an anonymous bodyguard, Owen sits down on the sofa, placing himself between me and my coven. He tugs me against his side.
This is all nice and cosy.
I let the magic of the realm pick my coven’s brains and an assortment of food and drink clatters on the surrounding tables.
“What? What is this? I have never seen magic like this before.”
“This is all very special.”
“Whoa, can we eat this?”
I can’t help but grin at my coven.
“Yes,” I say, shuffling a little in my seat. “The magic of the realm can be a bit jarring. I woke up to the smell of bacon and fell out of bed.”
“You know that this is beyond the coven’s expertise, beyond anything we’ve experienced,” Dad says, his voice soft.
“I know. I think it’s beyond anyone’s experience. I don’t even think the other hosts know what they are doing.”
“Oh my, afternoon tea,” Jodie whispers at the full tea set and fancy tower of plates overflowing with mini sandwiches and cakes.
Heather squeals and gives me a toothy grin at her bowl of spaghetti. “Auntie Tuesday, your magic is epic.”
“Perhaps we can sit in the dining room?” I ask, frowning at all the plates. Gosh, they are hungry.
“No, we are fine here,” Mum replies. Dad grunts when she pulls the massive bacon cheeseburger from his hand and then loudly lectures him about his cholesterol.
“Yes, dear,” he grumbles.
I roll my eyes as if Mum couldn’t knock up a potion to counteract anything negative in his diet.
Another burger appears next to his outside hand, with a pint of Carlsberg lager to wash it down.
I snort and Owen’s lips twitch. Without my mum noticing, Dad bites into his new burger.
He closes his eyes on a silent groan. I help him out by getting Mum’s attention as I feed Daisy a slice of cucumber with a “here comes the aeroplane” noise.
“A dragonette familiar,” Mum declares as she takes a delicate sip of coffee. “It has been staring me in the face this entire time. I cannot believe the most important thing in the history of our coven, and I did not see it. Mainly because you avoid spending time with your coven.”
Yes, yes, it’s all my fault.
“Familiar?” I frown. Familiars are scarce, to the point of being sacred to witches. Even in my coven, no one is strong enough to have one. There hasn’t been a new familiar bond in over a century. I might be out of the loop with the witch community, but I know that.