Chapter 16
Jena’s eyes snapped open as the spell from her mother’s grimoire released her.
She stared at the shadowed, water-stained ceiling, moonlight spilling across her face, and faintest whisper of bergamot still teasing her nose.
Her body thrummed with power from the sin she’d just eaten, and she fought to calm the pounding of her heart.
Flickery amber lights were on around the outside of the trailer, and the rain sounded like it’d abated…
how long had she been trapped in that spell?
She put a hand to her head, her mouth gummy. Ugh. What the hell was going on? If her mother had known her father was unseelie, and he and Malcom were after the node, why would she get involved with him?
Jena pinched across her temples. Guess she didn’t need that genealogy test, damn it. And God, Chase…did he have any idea? She’d known her father was a piece of shit, but Malcom? Well, everyone knew he was a piece of shit, but he was supposed to be a were piece of shit, not an unseelie one.
She gingerly sat up, wincing, and drew a glyph to heal her side.
It knitted together with a flash of purple light, and the ache in her legs faded away, along with the power thrumming through her.
God, that was better. She sighed, running her palm over the smooth flesh, and did a double take at the grimoire.
It’d opened to a page with an ink drawing of a tall, slim man, his face occluded by sharp pen strokes, and an inscription beside him.
Whoever it was, it wasn’t Malcom. Her dad? She held the book up to the light.
Beware Brizathilis and mark his name. Changeling, trickster, scion of the unseelie court. He arrives in darkness and chaos follows in his wake.
A symbol for the rule of three was below it, drawn and underlined in dark red ink.
Jena frowned. Well, wasn’t that just tits.
She scrubbed her face. Thanks, Mom. She’d remember to floss, too.
How was pointing out that any intent you sent out came back threefold going to help her?
An actual spell would’ve been nice—or hey, how about a primer on what had actually gone down between them?
Aggie said her father left town, but Phil seemed pretty convinced he was dead, so which was it? A better question was if it even mattered anymore. Seemed like her priorities should be on other things.
Like maybe dropping a dime on fucking Malcom for murdering her family.
Jena flicked the grimoire closed and buzzed her lips.
Stupid node. If the unseelie court wanted it that bad, she’d sign the damned thing over just to be rid of it—okay, maybe not, but how was this even a thing?
All she’d wanted to do was make Aggie’s last days comfortable and settle her affairs, but nooo.
Let’s dive right into an insidious plot to upset the magical balance in this crap town.
Christ. Calm down and think… Jena scrubbed her still-damp hair with a towel and sighed at the yoga pants and 80s hairband tee that’d been left for her. Couldn’t wait to squeeze her ass into those. Whatever. At least there was a hoodie. She started pulling them on, wracking her memory.
Right, supe history 101. The grid of nodes and leylines crisscrossing the country had been established way back in the day by taming wild magic specifically to prevent mounds from forming.
Those were caused by the sidhe realm intruding into this one, kind of like a zit.
But instead of too much pizza, they required a metric shit ton of wild magic to form, which also rendered the surrounding land uninhabitable for everyone else.
The sidhe thrived in that kind of chaos, but they had their own lands full of crazy beyond the veil.
The grid guaranteed the magic here stayed tame, and they stayed put.
Which they did, for the most part. Sure, there were some sidhe on this side of the veil, but their magic seriously suffered.
And without that constant influx of wild magic, they also deteriorated physically, got sick, and died after a century or so.
For beings with typical lifespans long enough to mark continental drift, that wasn’t exactly a selling point.
All of them here were basically exiles under a death sentence and needed to carry government issued visas.
She pulled on the tee, not particularly thrilled that all of that tracked with what she’d just seen, and it didn’t sound like Malcom had gotten his green card.
But if her mother had known about him—about him murdering their family—why hadn’t she flagged his ass to the feds?
That should’ve been a no-brainer. They would’ve picked him up and her dad, and they’d both be rotting in some detention site right now instead making her life miserable.
Calling them in was sounding better and better…
She paused, looking out the window at the pixies catching bugs beneath the lights.
No. There had to be a reason. It was probably a good one, too.
Jena eyed the grimoire like a snake. If the answers were in there, did she want them?
Technically, she should be on a registry if she was half-sidhe, and since her father had been unseelie, chances were high she’d be detained.
She’d also probably be ousted from this realm into the next along with Malcom and Chase when they found him. She snorted. Like she needed to be part of that relocation program.
The trailer door rattled as someone knocked on it.
“Just a sec,” she called, dumping Kelsey’s soggy clothes out of her spellbag and scooping up the stupid book.
Shit. Everything in there was damp now…whatever.
She shoved the grimoire back into the leather satchel with the rest of the papers Phil had given her and crammed it into her spellbag.
She looped it over her shoulder and toed back into her soggy sneakers, glad for the reprieve as she answered the door.
Whoa. Felix stood there in a borrowed tracksuit two sizes too big that actually matched.
“Looking good, Felix.”
“Ha ha.” He frowned down at himself. “More like boring. But it’s not like I had options.” He tugged up the collar and sniffed it. “Trust me, I would’ve taken them. This cologne is so senior year.”
Ouch. “Liam’s?”
“Mmm.” He scowled, flipping a lock of hair from his eyes. “Come on, they’re setting up a late dinner. Phil wanted to give you time to do whatever you needed to do with your mom’s grimoire,” he said, waggling his upraised fingers. “I hope you took care of that gash while you were at it.”
“I did,” she said, falling in step with him as they followed the lighted path back down into the hollow. The rain had stopped, but by the clouds it wasn’t done, and the ground was super muddy.
He glanced at her askance. “Okay, spill. I know that look.”
“What look?”
“Like you’re on info overload. You read it?”
“Sort of,” she said, hopping over a rut.
“And…”
“And I need time to process.”
Felix stopped with a dramatic huff. “You know, you’d think we were dating the way you’re constantly edging me. ‘Just wait, Felix. It will be worth it, Felix. I need to process, a cone of silence, and a margarita, Felix,’” he said in a high falsetto, a hand on his chest.
“Shut up, I do not sound like that.” She laughed.
“You do, and you’re lucky I’m a masochist, otherwise I would’ve dumped your ass years ago.” He started back down the path, fiddling with the drawstring on his borrowed pants as they slipped. “Though a margarita does sound good. At least give me something…was banging Chase all that you imagined?”
Jena bit back a smile. “Better.”
“Did he make you call him Daddy?” Felix asked, a hand on her arm. “He totally gives me Daddy vibes.”
“Ew! No.” She laughed again, trailing her fingers over one of the sentinel pines as they entered the hollow. The magic from the ward rose up again to meet her. Yeah, it was definitely invitation only.
“Don’t you yuck my yum.” Felix tsked.
“Me? Never, but he’s more of a ‘sir’ kind of guy.”
Felix fanned himself. “Okay, you’re forgiven. That’s hot. Bossy boys are the best.”
Jena smiled wider. He wasn’t wrong.
The solar lights in the trees above had come on, twinkling above the picnic tables. A canopy stood above one set up with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth, and Kelsey was helping an older, curvy woman put out place settings.
“Hey, guys!” she called, waving. “Hope burgers are okay. This week everyone usually has to fend for themselves since mom’s cooking so much for Saturday.”
The older woman tsked. “Kelsey Ann, that’s not true.
I made macaroni salad not a half hour ago for this.
” She turned to them with a wide smile. “Tess Montgomery,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel before reaching for Jena’s to shake.
“My, last time I saw you, you were knee high to a dragonfly, and didn’t you just grow up pretty as your mama? ”
“Um, thanks,” Jena said, releasing the woman’s hand and rubbing hers together awkwardly. “Can we help?”
“What? No! You’re guests, sit, sit.” She ushered them to the table and a woof came from beneath it as Jena took a seat. A fuzzy muzzle pushed into her lap. “Don’t mind Nana, she’s just looking for love.”
“Nana…” Jena’s brows knit as she stroked a hand over the dog’s wiry gray coat, an odd sense of déjà vu stealing over her. “I feel like…what kind of dog is she?”
“Irish wolfhound,” Kelsey said. “Dad breeds them special.”
Felix edged away from it, the struggle on his face real. He was one hundred percent a cat person, and dogs freaked him out, especially big dogs. “Um, isn’t that a little…odd?”
“I suppose that all depends on which wolves they’re trained to hunt,” Phil said, rounding the stones to join them with a platter of burgers. “Nana and her litter are primed to go after Westsiders crossing into our territory. Believe me when I say it doesn’t happen often.”