Tegan's Return (Blood Magic 2)

“I’ll try.”

“This also means you’ll have to perform Delilah’s duties at the club tonight,” Ethan tells him.

“Not a problem.”

I start to get nervous as I think about what Ethan has planned for us when we get to his house. I don’t have much of a choice but to go there, I can hardly get them to drop me off at Finn’s place. Lucas pulls into Ethan’s driveway, but I remain seated in the car. Ethan takes my hand to lead me out, but I pull it away.

“I’ll make my own way home from the club,” I tell him, planning on staying in the car with Lucas. I may not like Ethan’s sidekick very much, but right now I can’t bring myself to think past the fact that Ethan snapped that warlock’s neck like it was nothing. Of course, this is a prime opportunity for me to get a little closer to him, but I’m deciding to run away like the little coward that I am. Oh well. I’ll never make a very good spy.

“Come inside and I’ll give you something dry to wear,” says Ethan.

I peer at him quizzically. “No funny business?”

“What is your obsession with funny business?” he laughs, before practically dragging me out of the vehicle and pulling me toward his front door.

Lucas revs the engine and pulls away from the house, honking his horn in farewell. There goes my escape route.

Once inside I hang my wet coat over the banister at the end of the stairs and slip off my boots. Ethan picks both up and tells me he’ll have them washed and dried for me, he also instructs me to remove my other wet clothing so that he can dry those too. No chance.

I fold my arms across my chest. “Where are the dry clothes you promised me?”

Ethan grabs my hand again and starts leading me up the stairs. “You can shower up here,” he tells me. “When you’re finished go into Delilah, she’ll give you something to wear,” he stops and points to a doorway at the end of the long hall, we’re on the first floor now. “Then come up to me and I’ll take you home,” he gestures to where the stairs lead up to another floor. The top floor of the house must be Ethan’s private quarters.

I laugh. “If you think I’m going to fit into anything Delilah owns then you don’t know shit about women’s sizes.” Delilah can’t be any bigger than a size 8.

Ethan’s dark eyes take me in. “I know enough. Perhaps I want to see you in something skimpy,” he remarks humorously.

“You know, some would say wanting to see a woman wearing skimpy clothes that belong to your sister has some kind of Freudian connotations.”

Ethan smirks. “Let them say it. Freud was an imbecile.” Hmm, I wonder if Ethan ever met the man. He opens the door to a lavish bathroom. “You can shower in here. There are towels and robes in the cupboard, take off your clothes and then hand them out to me, I’ll wait by the door.”

He leaves and closes the door over most of the way. I kick it shut with the heel of my foot, an action that is met by a quiet laugh from Ethan on the other side. First I turn on the shower, thinking I’ll give the water a chance to heat up. But looking at the state of the art contraption, I’d guess it probably has hot water on demand. I slip out of my clothes, ball them up, stand behind the door and hold them out to Ethan. He takes them from me, still laughing gently.

“I thought modern women had no shame about their naked form,” he says, his voice low.

“Call me old fashioned,” I answer, before quickly slamming the door shut and turning over the lock.

“I’ll be waiting upstairs,” he says then, his voice getting further away. I breathe a sigh of relief. I wash quickly, trying not to savour the expensive shampoo and body wash. When I dry off, I get into a fluffy white towel robe, and God, it feels like heaven. The fabric is probably some special blend, designed for maximum comfort.

Hesitantly, I make my way toward Delilah’s room. Before I put my hand on the door handle I stop, because I can hear sobbing coming from within. Is she in there crying? The sound ceases a moment later and the door flies open. Delilah stands there, she’s wearing a fancy red dress but it’s all rumpled as though she’s been sleeping in it. Her eyes have a slightly swollen aspect, and I wonder if she really had been crying in her room. It makes her seem so young, just like the teenager she appears to be. Lucas did mention she left the club in a temper earlier tonight.

“Tegan? What are you doing here?” she asks.

“Ethan and I ran into a bit of trouble, well actually, we crashed into a lake when two warlocks and a witch ran Whitfield’s car off the road. So he brought me back here to clean up.”

Delilah doesn’t even appear shocked. “So, what are you standing outside my room for?”

“Ethan said you’d loan me some clothes,” I answer.

One scarlet eyebrow tilts up. “You’re not my size.”

I sigh. “That’s what I told him. Do you have anything, I don’t know, stretchy?”

Delilah stands back and gestures into her room, which is elegantly furnished as though it belongs to a Hollywood starlet from the 1950’s. I’d half expected it to be pink with teddy bears crowding the bed and posters of boy bands pinned to the wall. I keep forgetting that Delilah is not a teenager.

She disappears inside one of those ‘closet rooms’ and I follow her. “Are you okay?” I ask. “I thought I could hear crying.”

Delilah is looking through a drawer right when I say it and her head sags. “I knew you heard me,” she whispers, then she turns and looks at me. “I suppose you’re one of the few people who might understand.”