Chapter 12
“Magical children?” I echo, a nasty feeling forming in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m sorry, Ace,” Jacques says softly, and I know exactly what he’s apologizing for. If the demon was going after magical children, then my parents’ death was one hundred percent my fault.
“What makes you think that?” Gil questions, face paling a bit. He feels bad for me too. I don’t like pity. It does no good and is a waste of time.
“When Ace said her parents would stop at nothing for her, it got me thinking.” He points to something on one of the case files.
“She was a mother.” He flips a page. “He was a father of twins.” He pulls up another file, which has a newspaper clipping stapled to it.
“And she worked with orphaned children. If there was a connection between the victims, Ace would have found it by now.”
“What about the latest victims?” Gemma asks, looking more and more nervous.
“Nothing was mentioned in that article, but the officer from Lebanon who I talked to said that couple practically raised their nephew. Oh my God! Is he in danger?”
“I would assume so.”
“What do I do?” I ask, on the verge of panicking. “Drive there overnight? Then what? Tell the kid he has to come with me because the demon that killed his aunt and uncle is going to come after him?”
“Do you know where or who he is?” Gil asks.
I shake my head. “I can find out.”
“A protection spell,” Gemma interjects. “We can do that now. Who knows if he’s still even…you know. But a spell will be faster than trying to drive.”
“I agree.” Jacques turns his gaze to me. “Can you get a name and photograph of the boy?”
“Probably. He’s fifteen, so I’m sure he’s on social media. Give me a few minutes.” I hurry out of the room, waving for Tom and Hasan to follow me so I can fill them in while I search the internet for an image of the boy.
The Wi-Fi is so fucking slow out here, but I do find this kid’s Instagram account. Evan Bradley isn’t your normal kid. He seems a tad dark, and if emo were still a thing, that’s exactly what I’d call him.
I read through the captions on his photos while his profile photo prints. It sounds like both of his parents are in the Army, and instead of moving around with them, he was staying with his aunt and uncle in their hometown to finish high school.
“I hate to ask,” Thomas starts, coming up behind me as I wait by the printer in the library.
It’s wireless and I had to bring my computer in here next to it to be able to get the fucking thing to work.
Living in a century-old house outside of city limits sounds fun until you need to do some fast internet stalking.
“Ask what?”
“If the demon killed the guardians of magical children, wouldn’t that imply said guardians knew and had magical abilities of their own?”
His question is logical but still catches me off guard. “Yeah, that actually makes sense. Because Evan wasn’t with his aunt and uncle while they were hiking. They couldn’t have protected him if a demon attacked unless…”
“Unless they had some sort of protection spell in place,” Thomas finishes.
“So that would mean my own parents knew.”
Thomas’s large hand lands on my shoulder. The warmth from his skin soaks through the thin material of my shirt. He splays his fingers and my eyes fall shut. What I’d give to have him sweep me off my feet and fly up to the bedroom. He’d make me come in minutes, and I’d leave all my worries behind.
But I can’t.
“Maybe they were waiting until you were older to tell you,” he suggests. “Or knew that being a witch put you in certain danger and they didn’t want that life for you?”
The printer finally catches a good enough signal and starts printing the image of Evan.
“Yeah. I guess.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember my mother’s face and the sound of her voice. I wish I could summon her again. “But after my parents died, no one came after me. Wouldn’t a protection spell die with my mother?”
“That’s a question for Jacques to answer, but from what I’ve seen and read over the years…yes.”
“My aunt,” I say, turning to look at Thomas. “She obviously knew magic. She kept this house safe and in good condition. She’s the one who left it to me, after all.” I bring my hand to my head, rubbing my temples. “It’s so much.”
“Hey,” Thomas says, stepping closer. He wraps one arm around me and pulls me into an embrace. I let out a deep sigh and rest my head against his firm chest. “You’ve got us. We’ll protect you.”
I pull back and smile. “I know.” They will protect me. For now.
“Light it now,” Gemma whispers, and I hold my hand over a white candle. I’m sitting inside a salt circle, performing a protection spell. Evan’s photo is in front of me, and I’ve carved his name into the wax of the candle I’m igniting.
“Ut salvum illum. Ut eum occulta. Et cadere de Evan Bradley non noncere,” I chant, and pick up his photo.
Closing my eyes, I envision the boy’s face and say the chant again.
The flame grows taller on the candle before me.
The energy buzzes around the circle. “Ut salvum illum. Ut eum occulta. Et cadere de Evan Bradley non noncere,” I say a little louder this time, hoping I got the pronunciations right.
I don’t want to say the wrong thing and end up sending demons after this kid.
I open my eyes and see the entire circle lighting up. Magic flows through it and into the air, disappearing with a flash.
“Did it work?” I ask, setting the photo down.
“That was amazing.” Gemma’s eyes are still wide. She slowly nods her head up and down. “If that didn’t work, then I don’t think anything else will. I saw the magic, Ace. Saw it.”
“Is that not normal?” I look from her to Jacques.
“No,” he answers. “Though for a witch with your power, it’s not surprising.”
I inhale, slowly getting up. “Now that the witch duties are done, I need to protect this kid as a cop.” I step out of the salt circle. “Though I have no fucking clue what I’m going to say.”
“Say?” Hasan asks.
“I can call and say I think the kid is in danger,” I start to explain. “And have an officer park in front of his house.”
“Is that a good idea?” Gemma blows out the candle.
“I don’t know,” I confess. “I really don’t know.” I head toward the kitchen, ready to pop open another bottle of wine. “I don’t want to put another person in the line of fire, but I have to keep this kid safe.”
“The protection spell will keep him safe,” Jacques assures me. “If this demon feeds off energy, then it’ll take more than regular weapons to stop it.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” I sit at the kitchen table, looking at my phone. “If my captain found out I called and asked for a squad car to go sit outside this kid’s house…” I shake my head. “I can’t keep lying like this.”
“If you weren’t a police officer, you wouldn’t be able to request protection for this kid, right?” Hasan asks.
“No, I wouldn’t be able to at all.”
“What would you do?” he goes on.
“The spell and hope it’s enough.” I look at each of my guys. “It’s not like we can all hop on a plane and go to Kansas.”
“Even with the concealment charms?” Gil asks, sounding disappointed.
“You have no official papers. You need ID to fly. And if you’re pulled away for an additional security check, I have no idea what an X-ray would show. The spell keeps your wings out of human sight and space, but are they still there in a sense?”
“What’s an X-ray?” Hasan asks.
“It’s this machine that can take pictures of your bones through your skin. But it’s used for security since it can show anything you have concealed inside you.”
He tips his head. “Concealed what inside you? Where?”
“Uh.” I look at Gemma, who’s trying hard not to laugh. “People hide drugs and sometimes weapons in their prison wallets.”
“Prison wallet?”
Thomas laughs. “Up the ass, man.”
Hasan’s eyebrows push together. “People hide weapons in their assholes? And they’re able to get them out in time for combat?”
And now I’m laughing. “I mean, stranger things have happened. Usually it’s drugs, but the X-ray also shows if anything is hidden under clothing. Though small weapons or explosives have been located up the poop-shoot before. And women have an extra advantage.”
“Interesting,” Hasan says with a nod. "Wait, you can’t take weapons on a plane?”
I shake my head, smiling. “Just when I think you guys are up to speed on everything, I’m reminded how much we still have to go over. Though, unless I can find someone to make some really convincing fake IDs for you, we’re not boarding a plane anytime soon. And by that, I mean at all.”
“We can already fly,” Gil says.
Thomas elbows his brother in the ribs. “He’s only saying that because he’s scared to fly.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I told you, Snakes on a Plane is a terrible example of what a real flight experience will be.”
“But how does it stay in the air?” Gil’s blue eyes widen, making me laugh again. I stand, chair scooting out behind me, and go to him.
“I don’t even know how to start explaining it,” I admit, placing both my hands on his bare chest. He pulls me in, one hand landing on my ass. “Maybe when this whole demonic Elsa situation is over and creepy curators aren’t sending me cryptic invites, we can watch a Wright brothers documentary.”
“I’ve seen a good one,” Jacques says, looking up from my grimoire. “It’s very informative, but I still don’t quite get how planes stay in the air.”
Another knot loosens in my chest. My life is in turmoil right now, but things are manageable since I have my family here.
Hasan.
Thomas.
Gilbert.
Jacques.
And even Gemma.
We’re all a family now. Gemma plans to go back to her rented house soon—coming to stay with me was temporary while she healed—but I’m honestly loving our dynamic.
“Dinner is ready,” Gemma says, taking a dish out of the oven. We all work to get everything else ready, and in a matter of minutes, salads are prepped, garlic bread is toasted, and dinner is served.