Ethan and Nik are in the library, going over the very rough plan I sketched out. “Guys,” I start, holding up the sword. “You’re never going to believe this.” I wrap my fingers around the grip and suddenly remember something else, and it stops me in my tracks all over again.
“It’s going to be big, my dear,” Aunt Estelle says, line forming between her eyebrows. “Bigger than the War of Light and Dark. Heaven and Hell are not meant to clash, and I wish it weren’t in the cards for you, but when you find her, you’ll—”
“What the hell is that?” Ethan strides over, and I’m jarred back to the here and now. Aunt Estelle was prepping me for something. There’s a fight coming, a big, colossal, apocalypse-type fight. She saw it no matter how many times she tried to see a future that had a better fate.
And I was in this fight for some reason.
“A sword.” I blink a few times. “I remember Aunt Estelle training me with this thing. The blade is formed from fire. I’d try it, but not in the house. And I’d prefer you had the hose ready outside. Just in case.”
Ethan takes the weird-looking sword from me, inspecting the hilt. “It would be so fucking hot to see you holding a flaming sword.”
“Not helping,” Nik chides.
“Right.” Ethan gives me back the sword and motions to the coffee table. “I had a suggestion on the circle that will make it safer for you.” We go back to the couch and Hunter lets me know someone is here.
“Sam?” I question, going to the living room just in time to see a truck pull onto the driveway. Ethan joins me and we exchange confused looks.
Ethan opens the door, waiting for Sam to hurry down the cobblestone sidewalk. “What the hell, Sam?”
“You wouldn’t answer your phone and we have to talk,” she presses. Her cheeks are slightly flushed like she’d been arguing with someone.
“I told you now isn’t a good time,” Ethan presses. “We’re dealing with something here.”
“Patrick is dead!” She jumps up the porch steps. “They found him burned to death in his house this morning and Steph is about to formally accuse Anora of his murder.”
Chapter
Seventeen
“But I don’t even know where he lives! ” I blurt, saying the first thing that comes to my mind. I stop in the foyer, staring at Sam. My heart jumps to my throat. Murder? Me? No, there’s no way. I’m not a murderer and I know I didn’t give off that vibe. The only reason Stephanie would accuse me of something like that is because I’m a witch.
“That doesn’t matter,” she says, blowing loose strands of hair out of her face. She’s wearing black athletic pants and a crop top with a baggy unzipped hoodie overtop. It’s the first time I’ve seen her in anything other than jeans and flannel. “She knows you have fire-magic and she saw you and Patrick arguing.”
“I wouldn’t really call that arguing,” I immediately counter. “The guy is a dick but—oh shit.” I let out a breath. “I see how she’d jump to that conclusion. What are we going to do?”
“I’m going to tell her this is a bunch of fucking bullshit,” Ethan growls. “What the fuck is she thinking?” He goes to storm out the door but Sam stops him.
“Slow down. David and Julia are trying to talk some sense into her right now. I tried calling you but you wouldn’t—” She cuts off when something swoops down from the roof. Ethan grabs her arm and pulls her in, slamming the door behind her.
“What the hell was that?” Sam turns, looking out the window next to the door.
“The reason I didn’t answer the phone.”
“It’s an incubus,” I tell her, my head swimming. After days of feeling weak, sick, and tired, I realized a demon is after me—again. And now I’m being accused of something horrible, and something that will cause problems way beyond myself.
Because I’m an active member of the coven now, and if the Order goes after me, they’ll have the Grand Coven to answer to.
“An incubus,” I tell her.
“How the hell did you get an incubus after you?” Sam pushes her blonde hair back, shaking her head in disbelief.
Ethan flashes a cheeky grin. “I’m very, very good at satisfying—”
“Ethan!” I hiss, elbowing him. “Really?”
He innocently shrugs. “I can’t help that I’m basically a sex god.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Sam sighs, tossing her head back. “We have two serious situations here and you’re bragging about your sex-skills?”
“Just be glad you don’t have to listen to it transpire in real-time,” Nik quips, leaning over the couch in the library, hardly able to see us in the foyer.
“Is that the druid?” Sam asks, voice low.
“Yes,” I say. “That’s Nik.” I bring a hand to my head again, rubbing my temple. My heart speeds up and my throat feels tight. What the hell am I going to do? Can I get a supernatural lawyer to prove my innocence?