Chapter 25
According to Max, Hugh had left for a confidential meeting while Gwen was taking a shower.
When she sent him a quick text from her new burner phone, he immediately responded with brief but sweet reassurances as to his well-being and greetings from Thora.
Also an emoji heart, which she suspected was a first for him.
Kip and Lorrie, who’d slept on the hard living room couch and a makeshift bed on the floor, shared an absurdly huge breakfast with Gwen. And soon after the trolls had departed, Edie shuffled into the kitchen too and wolfed down a large bowl of rainbow-colored cereal as Max hovered protectively.
Once Edie had eaten her fill, Gwen offered the couple the best thank-you she could for their continuing hospitality: a prophetic session.
Max declined the offer graciously, but Edie agreed with surprising eagerness. Even after Gwen confessed that she wasn’t sure what might happen when she voluntarily summoned her oracular power again, rather than having it unexpectedly sear through her like a lightning strike.
Turned out, it felt like a normal session to her. And when she returned to her own senses, the fresh wound on her palm stinging but cauterized black, she clearly remembered what she’d told Edie and the other woman’s response.
“A new sage-scented oil will cause small lumps in your next soap batch,” Gwen had intoned, “and you will shout ‘motherfucker’ loudly enough to alarm several local squirrels.”
“Ricing.” Edie had jotted a note to herself. “The perennial bane of soap makers everywhere, along with acceleration, separation, seizing, and discoloration. Also alien brain.”
“ ‘Alien brain’?” Max had stared at her. “What the fuck?”
“Shush.” Edie had wagged a finger at him. “Gwen’s telling me important shit.”
“In your frustration, you will decide to give yourself bangs,” Gwen had added as another vision appeared before her unseeing eyes. “Regrets will be had. Stylists will be called. A striking resemblance to the character of Lloyd in Dumb and Dumber will be noted.”
Edie sat back in her leather chair. “Oh, damn.”
A third image had bloomed in Gwen’s mind. “The vampire will soon give you a gift. You will promptly get barbecue sauce on that gift, but—”
“Sounds about right,” Max had grumbled.
“—the gray velvet slipcovers will wash clean.”
Edie’s hands had flown to her mouth. “Oh, gods, Max, did you—”
“So much for that surprise.” Despite his grousing, he’d smiled at his girlfriend with shocking sweetness. “Happy Not Dying Day, my Edie. Please accept my abiding devotion in the form of a Pottery Barn couch.”
One final vision had tugged at Gwen’s attention. “You will celebrate the gift’s arrival in ways that will permanently traumatize Sabrina when she visits your home unexpectedly.”
“Worth it,” Edie had declared, then crawled into Max’s lap and started making out with him.
After that, the Power had slipped away from Gwen, leaving her slumped on Max’s current, non–Pottery Barn sofa.
Since her hosts were otherwise occupied, she didn’t bother asking for a glass of ice water.
Instead, she simply sat tiredly and tried to rub away the dull ache in her forehead while Edie and Max Frenched each other with enviable enthusiasm.
Abruptly, Max rose to his feet, pulling Edie with him. “I believe you need another nap, ma puce. We should—” He cut himself off and glanced to the right, toward his library. “Greetings, Blacke. I didn’t hear you come in.”
Gwen twisted her neck to look behind herself, and sure enough. Hugh was standing in his socked feet, arms crossed over his chest, resting a shoulder against the hallway’s wall.
“You’re back!” Suddenly bursting with renewed energy, she leapt to her feet. “Everything okay?”
He nodded. “Honey, where’s your pomander?”
“Why? What happened?” Her brows snapped together. “Are you injured?”
“No.” He frowned back at her, looking nonplussed. “You are.”
Following his gaze, she glanced down at her palm.
“Oh, yeah.” Used to the minor, nagging pain after one of her typical prophetic sessions, she hadn’t even thought about the healing spell. “It’s back in the library. I’ll go get it.”
He raised a hand. “I’ll bring it to you. After I do this.”
Finally approaching the sofa, he gently clasped her nape in one hot hand, leaned down, and kissed her. Softly and lingeringly, as if Edie weren’t wolf-whistling at them the entire time in the world’s most hypocritical instance of catcalling.
“I suddenly sympathize with the witch’s trauma,” Max said, sounding pained.
“Be right back,” Hugh murmured. “Would you like some water?”
“I…” Her lips still tingling from the sweetness of his kiss, she blinked at him in dazed confusion. “I guess?”
“Good.” After giving her another, much briefer kiss, he brought her a glass of ice water, then retreated down the hall. And true to his word, when he reappeared a minute later, he came bearing the prettily pierced pomander.
Sitting beside her, he carefully deposited the sphere into her injured palm. “Hopefully this will help your head too.”
“Cool it, Gaston.” Despite her boyfriend’s best attempts to initiate another make-out session, Edie pressed a staying hand on his chest and turned to their guests.
“Gwen, before my…nap, I need to thank you for sharing your talent with me again. Oracular sessions are normally way out of my financial reach, so this was a treat. Not to mention very useful.”
Gwen bowed her head. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more.”
Edie made a surprisingly rude sound. “You did plenty, Gwen. Later today, I’ll find a different sage-scented oil to use. I’ll also tape a picture of Jim Carrey with dumb bangs to my computer monitor as a reminder to back away from my scissors when I’m frustrated.”
“I’ll help you search for your oil.” Max’s sidelong stare at his girlfriend should have come with a PG-13 rating. “Let’s do that now. Privately.”
“Bye, everyone.” Edie waved at their guests, then slapped Max on the ass and led the way toward the bedroom. “You’re the one who’s going to need oil, vamp. I hope you’re ready.”
“As Kip always says…” Max’s pace hastened. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
The two of them disappeared through their bedroom door, which slammed behind them with a decided thunk. Moments later, a room-rattling blast of Sade singing about paradise drifted down the hall.
Shaking her head ruefully, Gwen angled herself toward Hugh. “What did Thora tell you?”
“Quite a bit.” Hugh took her uninjured hand in his. “New intelligence seems to indicate that someone within SERC is part of the fae splinter group she’s infiltrated. Perhaps even the group’s leader.”
“Someone within SERC,” Gwen echoed. “Like a species representative or…?”
“Worse.” His eyes were clouded with worry. “From what she’s hearing? The insurrectionist might be an actual councilor.”
Holy shit. That was terrible news.
She told him what they both knew. “But there’s only one fae on the Council. Does that mean Tanielle Beech, the actual SERC chair, is part of the conspiracy?”
He blew out a long, slow breath before answering.
“I don’t know who else would benefit from the slaughter of all non-fae Supernaturals and Enhanced humans.
Unless someone on the Council secretly hates their own species and wants their entire lineage wiped off the face of the planet…
” His bearded jaw worked. “I have to assume Beech is the plant. But we need proof before making any accusations. Thora’s working to gather evidence, and I set some plans in motion this morning too. ”
He didn’t sound happy about any of it, and for good reason.
If the chair—privy to all confidential SERC communications unless the sender deliberately excluded her, as Hugh had been doing in recent days, and wielder of incomparable influence with access to nearly infinite funds—was part of the conspiracy, outmaneuvering her could prove impossible.
“I’m waiting to hear back from a few researchers and informants.” His fingers tightened around hers. “In the meantime…”
“Yes?” Breath bated, she waited for him to propose returning to the library together.
“I watched your entire prophetic session just now,” he said to her surprise—and frankly, disappointment. “I came in just after you entered your oracular flow state.”
Well, that would explain why she hadn’t noticed his arrival. While channeling even limited Power, she retained only the barest thread of her own consciousness.
She lifted a shoulder, embarrassed. “It was just normal human life stuff. I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
“You didn’t. And that’s part of what I wanted to say, Gwen. What I tried to tell you last night as well.” He removed the pomander from her now-healed palm and took that hand in his too. “I know you think your smaller visions aren’t valuable, Gwen, but Edie would disagree. I do too.”
“Thank you.” She huffed out a short, humorless laugh. “That’s very kind.”
His frown pinned her in place on the sofa. “Not kind. Honest. Do I lie to you, Gwen? Have I given you any reason to doubt my word?”
“No. But…” Her cheeks aflame, she shifted restlessly. “My normal visions must seem totally inconsequential to you, given the power you wield and observe on a daily basis.”
Another firm headshake. “On the contrary. Having now seen one of those normal visions, I can very much understand the value of what you do and how you do it.”
“How I do it?” Her face scrunched in confusion. “With my athame, you mean? After snacking on cheese?”
A slight, affectionate curve of his mouth replaced his frown. “You do it caringly and with generosity of spirit. You do it without demanding money from those who have none to spare. You do it for the vulnerable, not those who already possess more than enough power.”
She wasn’t built for compliments. She had no idea how to handle them other than batting them away from herself as swiftly as possible.
“But…” Her eyes dropped to their joined hands. “Bigger visions—more powerful oracles—can save the world, Hugh.”