Chapter 12 #3
Orion drops onto the sofa, legs sprawled. "Actually, next to coven meetings, that went really well. Nobody threw anything, or swore hexes, or cast a nasty spell on anyone."
"That’s a disturbingly low bar." But I smile despite myself. “I hate the idea that I’m the weakest link. I never even considered Tharuzel using our connection to spy on us.”
Wylder moves to stand beside me, close enough that his warmth seeps through my shirt. “It’ll be fine. The important thing is that we thought of it and we’ll get some added protections up for you.”
I scrub my hands over my face. “Some leader I am.”
He pulls me closer and hugs me. “You did fine, Poppy."
"I was out of my depths."
"You're not supposed to have all the answers." His voice carries that steady certainty I've come to depend on. "That's why you have a team."
"Speaking of which." I ease back and turn to Asher. He’s raiding the leftover popcorn bowl and looks deep in thought. "Thank you for taking over when I was drowning. I heart you hard, Hendrix."
He wrinkles his nose. “I heart you right back.”
I cross my arms, decision solidifying. "No, seriously. You kept everyone focused and ensured the meeting stayed on track. That’s why I'm nominating you as the Brigade's CEO."
Asher blinks. Swallows. "CEO?"
"Crisis Event Organizer," I clarify. "You handle the administrative stuff—coordinating people, managing logistics, keeping meetings from descending into total chaos. That way, the rest of us can focus on the magical problems."
"I'm not a witch."
"Exactly." Orion grins. "You're not distracted by all the magical politics and coven drama. You see the practical side."
Wylder nods. "It's a solid idea. You're already doing half of it, anyway."
Asher looks between the three of us, something uncertain flickering across his face. Then his usual brightness returns. "Does being the CEO come with business cards? Because I want business cards."
"Whatever you want." Relief floods through me. Having Asher officially in charge of organization means I don't have to pretend I know how to manage people. "You're the best person for this."
"Damn right I am." He tosses a kernel of popcorn in the air and catches it in his mouth. "First order of business—we need a better—"
A knock on the sliding glass door interrupts him.
We all freeze.
But the figure on the other side of the glass is a friend, not a foe. Dark hair, sharp features, that perpetual look of controlled chaos.
I cross the living room to unlock the door. "Sebastian? Is everything all right?"
He steps inside, bringing with him a rush of cold air and the scent of magic. "Sorry to intrude."
"You’re always welcome. You’re coming from the backyard. Did you portal here through the stones?"
"Fast travel has its perks." He glances at the others, then back at me. "I was called back to Thornhill to follow up on some things thrown at me last week. I have news about Rowan.”
I usher him inside and close the door. “What news? How is she?”
“Well, her parents were relieved she returned to them alive and unharmed."
"But?"
"But they don't support her involving herself in another coven's problems." His expression tightens. "Whether it’s protective parenting or magical prejudice, I can’t say, but the outcome is the same either way.”
“They won’t let her come back.” My chest aches. Rowan finally found somewhere she belonged, and now...
"She'll be back," Asher says firmly. "Once this blows over and we prove ourselves as a recognized guild, she’ll convince them.”
"Maybe." Sebastian doesn't sound certain. Then he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small vial filled with dark amber liquid. “This is for you.”
“For me? What is it?”
Sebastian hands me the vial. “Apparently, Rowan has been a royal pain in the ass since returning home. She told them the only way she’ll stop fighting them is if the Thornhill potion maker created something to negate Tharuzel's influence on you.”
My heart hurts. “She used her ‘get out of jail free’ card on me? Why would she do that?”
“Because she’s worried about you,” Wylder says.
“We all are, Pop-Tart,” Orion adds.
“Especially after last night,” Asher chimes in.
Sebastian’s brow furrows. “Why? What happened last night?”
Wylder gestures for him to take a seat at the kitchen table, and the five of us settle in. By the time he’s done filling Sebastian in on my sleepwalking incident, I’m just about ready to squirm out of my chair.
Sebastian frowns, reaches over to pull the stopper out of the vial, and points at me. “Take that now.”
Heat floods my face. “Yes, Dad.”
I do as I’m told and swallow the amber liquid in two quick gulps. It tastes like ass. Like Buckley’s cough syrup laced with fish oil and a touch of barf.
“Ew, gawd.” I gag and pinch my eyes closed as they water. “I think that was unnecessarily gross, and Thornhill knew I’d be the one drinking that.”
“I guess it doesn’t pay to piss off parents of powerful covens.” Asher hands me a glass of water, and I gulp it down, hoping to erase the bitter aftertaste.
It doesn’t work, so he hands me a snickerdoodle chaser.
Once I’m chewing the cinnamon-y bliss, things settle. “Okay, so what the hell is that vomit-snot serum supposed to do? Am I good now?”
Sebastian’s expression softens. “I’m afraid not. Despite Rowan’s demand for a complete block of Tharuzel’s influence, without having access to you or him, that wasn’t possible. I’m told it will temporarily block external magical influence from taking hold.”
“How temporarily?” Wylder asks.
“They said it could work for days or maybe weeks depending on your magical constitution.”
Orion frowns. “That’s vague and unhelpful.”
“Days? I am not drinking that every few days.”
Sebastian shrugs and holds up his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I only delivered the offering. I didn’t design the spell.”
I stare at the four of them and press my palms flat on the surface of the table.
My stomach is clenched and churning, and the room is starting to spin.
“Okay, I need to go back to bed for a bit. Let me know when Izzy and Mom are done figuring out the psychic shield spell. Mica needs our help, and we need to be there for her so she can find that forge.”
Sebastian looks lost. “Psychic shield?”
Asher stands and holds out a hand. “Wylder can fill you in. I’m gonna take Poppy upstairs. She’s either about to hurl or collapse. Either way, she’ll feel better in her room.”
I nod, swallowing against the thickness clogging my throat. “You get me.”