Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Ileave Rowan to work on the demon trackers with Mom and Sebastian, with the promise of returning with food to nourish the troops. As I stride through the house, it still feels like a dream—Mom is here.
She’s a ghost, sure, but in the life of a Wiccan family, that’s not all that weird.
It makes me a little sad Wylder’s mom and the others are bound to an enchanted object and able to go places and be part of things, while my mom is bound to Hallowind House and the property evermore.
When I asked her about it, she said that to set the anchor to pull her spirit from the ritual site, she needed a substantial power source.
The Hallowind standing stones did the trick, but now she’s bound to them.
Not that she seems to mind.
As soon as we patch up the tears in the veil and figure out what trouble I’ve been bound to with Tharuzel, we’ll bring home my sisters and patch up what’s left of our family.
It hurts that Dad won’t be part of that.
He’s really gone.
The radiators tick softly as I pause at the bottom of the stairs, listening for Asher and the pups. Nothing but the familiar sounds of the house come back at me.
“Asher?” My voice carries through the rooms.
No answer. No scrabble of tiny claws on hardwood. No excited yips from Nobuddy and Somebuddy responding to my presence.
“They must be outside.”
I head toward the back of the house, past the staircase and down the hallway that opens into the combined kitchen and living space. The afternoon light slants through the windows, catching dust motes in golden beams.
Out back, I catch the rumble of male voices—one is definitely Asher’s, but I don’t recognize the other. A moment of panic hits, and I push through the back door, searching.
I spot them near the back of the yard where the grass meets the wild growth of trees leading to the standing stones. Asher’s got his arms raised, drawing back what looks like a compound bow, and beside him stands a guy I’ve definitely never met.
Because, boy howdy, I would’ve remembered him.
The man is tall, broad-shouldered, and has dark hair that matches the rugged scruff along a jawline that could cut glass. As I close the distance, I notice his grease-stained hands even though he’s clearly cleaned up.
Jace Jenkins. The mechanic.
At his feet, a scruffy mutt with one ebony ear up and one brown ear down is being pounced upon by the pup patrol. The poor thing is looking up at its master with the patient resignation of a dog who’s waiting to be saved from being mauled by my ADHD canines.
“Higher,” Jace instructs, adjusting Asher’s elbow. “You want that anchor point consistent every time, or you’ll never hit what you’re aiming at.”
Asher shifts, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in a sign of true concentration. He releases. The arrow sails wide, thunking into the grass a good five feet from the target he’s set up against a hay bale. “Dammit.”
“No, that was better. You’ll get it.”
As soon as the pups realize I’m approaching, their attention turns and chaos ensues. Both men turn. Jace’s dog trots over with all the manners and dignity our pups lack. His stubby tail wags, and I crouch to scratch behind his brown ear, making sure to give plenty of love to all.
“That’s Clutch.” Asher lowers the bow, grinning like he’s been caught doing something mildly rebellious. “And this is Jace Jenkins, town mechanic and all-round outdoorsman.”
I straighten and brush dog hair off my jeans. “Hey, nice to meet you.”
Jace steps forward with his hand extended. “You’ve become quite the celebrity around these parts. Welcome back.”
“Thanks, but sadly, I don’t think I’ll live up to the hype.” I accept the welcome, his palm calloused and strong. It’s the kind of grip that comes from years of hard work.
“I’m sure that’s not true.” His smile crinkles the corners of his eyes, and I see why the women of Emberwood all have their sights set on him. He’s rugged and hot as hell. “I knew your dad from the shop. He was a good man.”
It does my heart good to hear someone mention my father first for a change. “Yeah, he was. Thank you.”
Asher bounces on his toes. “Speaking of the garage, Jace just gave the cars the all-clear. Both of them are good to go.”
I blink. “Oh, really?”
“Yep. The Mustang needed new fuel line, and the minivan needed a battery, but they should run like a dream,” Jace says.
That’s good to hear. Having reliable transportation means freedom.
It means not depending on Wylder or Sebastian or anyone else to get where we need to go.
And with the temperature dropping every day, it means heated seats instead of freezing our butts off walking.
“Thank you. Seriously, that’s great news. ”
He waves my thanks away. “Just doing my job.”
Asher shakes his head. “With them sitting there that long, they weren’t nearly as bad off as I expected. It’s crazy to me that they didn’t need more work done.”
There’s a reason Jace makes such a good mechanic. He’s what’s known in the magical world as an artificer. It’s a type of magical individual who blends magic with technology. Not that he goes around telling people that.
I’ll have to fill Asher in on that later.
“All that matters is that they’re both roadworthy and safe,” I say.
Asher nods. “Yeah, it would be a shame for you to wrap that Mustang around a tree. We gotta protect the classics.”
I laugh. “Gee, thanks. For a moment I thought you were worried about me.”
“Nope. Just the car.”
I chuckle and point to the bow in Asher’s hand. “So what’s with the Robin Hood routine? I know you’ve always had a thing for men in tights, but this is new.”
Asher flashes me a sassy grin, but then it’s replaced by something more earnest. “I just thought it’d be a useful skill. I used to do this at YMCA summer camp when I was a kid, and I always liked it.”
Jace nods. “He’s got decent form for someone who hasn’t touched a bow in years. Give him a week, and he’ll be hitting the gold.”
Oh, my heart. Asher’s playing it casual, but I know him too well. This isn’t about nostalgia or fun. This is about preparation. About being ready. About not being useless when things go sideways in my life.
My chest tightens. Asher’s always been there for me—through every panic attack, every sleepless night, every moment when I felt like the world was too much. And now, with the world changing around him and everything spiraling into chaos, he’s doing what he does best: adapting.
He’s finding a way to contribute, to stand beside me even when the odds are stacked impossibly high.
“That’s really cool,” I say softly. “I think it’s a great idea.”
He meets my eyes, and something unspoken passes between us. I’ve got your back, baby girl. Always.
Never doubted it for a second.
“Yeah, well.” Asher clears his throat. “I figured it couldn’t hurt to have another skill in the toolkit. You never know when you might need to, uh, take down a really aggressive squirrel or something.”
Jace laughs outright at that. “Aggressive squirrels? Do they have a lot of those in Kansas?” He’s still chuckling when he turns to leave. “Well, if you ever need backup, just let me know.”
“Appreciate it,” Asher says.
“Thank you for everything,” I add.
Jace tips an imaginary hat, whistles for Clutch, and heads around the side of the house toward the driveway. “Anytime, Miss Hallowind. Anytime.”
As his truck rumbles to life at the front of the house, Asher picks up the bow again, testing the draw. “So, do you wanna watch me miss this target seventeen more times?”
I grin. “Absolutely. Let’s see what you’ve got. Then we’ll need to eat because Wylder and Orion are coming over for physical conditioning.”
“Oh, is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
I laugh and shove him to face the target.
My shoulder hits dirt before I can twist away. Air punches out of my lungs as Wylder pins me, one hand on my wrist, the other braced near my head.
“Dead.” The word brings the warmth of his breath against my ear. “Come on, Poppy. You’ve got to give me more.”
I bare my teeth at him. “I had you for a second.”
“A second doesn’t cut it.” His scowl ghosts across my face. “You hesitated.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did.” His weight shifts, and suddenly I’m hyperaware of the heat coming off him, the solid muscle pressed against me, the way his eyes darken as they drop to my mouth. “Right before you threw the shield. You second-guessed yourself.”
My pulse hammers. “Maybe I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me. In battle, you have to trust your team to handle themselves. You worry about you, that’s all.” He holds my gaze a beat longer than necessary before pushing back to his feet and offering me a hand.
I ignore it and roll up on my own.
“Again,” Wylder orders.
I shake out my arms, ignoring the ache settling into my bones. We’ve been at this for hours—sparring, casting, dodging—and every muscle in my body is screaming. But I refuse to quit. Not when I can feel the magic surging stronger inside me with every spell I throw, every defense I raise.
And certainly not when Wylder’s watching me like that.
A predatory growl echoes through the trees as Orion circles Asher in his massive white tiger form. He’s breathtaking. I’d forgotten how intensely intimidating it is when his silver-blue eyes glint with predatory focus.
Asher is breathing hard, sweat dripping down his temples, but is loving every minute of this. He may not have any magical abilities, but he’s tough and is used to being the underdog. Where fighting for survival is a dramatic claim for most, for him, it’s the reality of what made him who he is.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” Asher taunts. “I thought you were supposed to be pushing me to my limits. Give me all you’ve got, puss.”
Orion’s ears flatten. Then he pounces.
Asher sidesteps at the last second, jabbing out with a quick strike that glances off Orion’s shoulder. It’s not enough though, because with his tiger reflexes, and his tail lashing, Orion swipes Asher with a powerful paw.