“Agreed,” Mr. Tom said, crossing behind Cyra and lifting the still-simmering cup of coffee. “We only have two weeks before we go to Elliot’s…residence, or tunnels, or whatever he calls his lair. The time for experimentation is over, if there ever was one. Instead of waking the miss for these types of musings, maybe your time would be better spent harassing the rock-throwing old crone next door into learning more about Elliot’s dwelling. Surely she should’ve uncovered something useful by now.”
I pulled up my knees and dropped my forehead onto them. “Mr. Tom, leave Niamh alone. She has to learn a few decades’ worth of magical politics in a month. She’s doing the best she can. We know roughly the type of…dwelling we’re going into.”
“The inside of a mountain isn’t a great place for a team of fliers,” Hollace said.
“Which is likely the point,” I replied. “As Niamh pointed out. But it’s fine. We’ll bring some of Austin’s people. We’ll be fine.”
“Ah yes, the dreaded fine.” Mr. Tom stepped away. “We will be fine.”
What else was I supposed to say? We’re almost certainly heading to our doom because I’ll only get one chance to take out Elliot, and it’s not going to work because he has decades more experience with just as much or more power. “Fine” would have to do.
“For the first part of training, you should practice your magic on us like usual,” Cyra said. “You’ll need that ability to protect us in battles with mages.” She stepped back. In the process, her boot heel clunked against a glass of water held by a doll with porcelain hands. The doll, knocked off balance, fumbled and spilled the water down its side. More fire shed from Cyra, liquid magma plopping onto the doll’s head. Its plastic brown hair started to melt before its whole head caught fire. It squealed, something I hadn’t known they could do, and then tottered around the floor, flailing its hands.
Great. The last thing I’d needed was more nightmare fuel.
Hollace kicked out as the doll ran by, catching its melting head and sending it rolling across the floor. The rest of the dolls chased after it, water glasses full, slopping most of the water onto themselves before they saved the half of a head it had left.
“This has been a very bad start to the day,” I murmured.
“When you are nearing the end of your training,” Cyra continued, not at all bothered by the pandemonium she had caused, “you will strip all your defenses and attack me with everything you have. You will not give me any kind of alert before you do this. You will attempt to kill me.”
I rubbed my face with my palms. “Except Elliot might be able to block my magic, and then he’ll fight back with power I probably can’t defend against. So it still won’t be like the real thing.”
“I can likely consume a dose of your magic without falling, and my self-preservation instincts will kick in. I will fight back just as fiercely as Elliot Graves would. Either you will be burned half to death before I relent, or I will die.”
“Oh no, Cyra, you mustn’t ask the miss to kill you.” Mr. Tom shook his head gravely. “If Edgar catches wind of this, he’ll start asking her to retire him again. Though after that sunflower debacle last week, I think she should’ve finally given in and shown him mercy.”
“Shown him mercy?” Ulric said with a laugh. “He gave consciousness to a giant sunflower with razor-sharp leaves. Which would have been great if he’d bothered to teach it the difference between friend and foe. That thing cut me up something good. Thank all that could fly that the basajaun was on hand and hungry. I’m not up for messing with weaponized plants. Killing Edgar would’ve been a mercy to us.”
“Yes,” Mr. Tom said. “That has always been a given.”
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I glanced over and caught Austin’s name on the screen.
A thrill of excitement stole my breath.
“Get out,” I said, reaching for it. “Everyone get out of here!”
People and dolls alike spun and headed for the door. They knew the score. I was officially dating the town’s alpha, and the taking-it-slow act was just that: an act. I felt like I was going to combust every time I so much as heard his name.
I was pretty sure the only person I was fooling was myself.
I snatched the phone up like a grinning fool, waited long enough for Mr. Tom to close the door behind him, and swiped to answer the phone.
“Hey,” I said with a gush of breath, my stomach flipping.
“Hey, babe,” he responded, his tone smooth and deep and the term of endearment completely nonchalant. Which was a little crazy considering the guy had planned on being a bachelor for the rest of his life. He’d even resisted the growing attraction between us in the beginning.