Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,4
is—”
“How long?” I pushed.
She pursed her lips, glancing at the others as if she didn’t quite know what to do, then said softly, “Almost six months.”
What the ever-loving fuck?
My fingers tightened around the banister, and vines curled around them as if they were comforting me. If not for the support of the railing, my knees would surely have buckled.
“After you brought your grandmother out of the veil, you passed out,” Annette added.
“For six months?” I looked at her through blurred vision. I’d come to the witch game late in life. At forty-four, I’d learned about powers I never knew I had. I’d learned I was a source, a charmling, one of only three in the entire world, and that others wanted to kill me to steal the immense power I had lying just beneath the surface.
When we’d finally coaxed the dormant powers forward, they’d almost killed me. And ever since, whenever I did a spell that required a lot of energy, I passed out. It’d happened more than once in those first few days, but I’d only been out a couple of hours at most.
Then I’d accidentally pulled my deceased grandmother out of the veil and back onto this plane. That took a lot more energy than I was ready to expel. But holy hell, six months? How could anyone sleep for six months? Especially without medical supervision? I had terrific bladder control, but damn.
“Ruthie said it must’ve been too much on your system.” The chief’s voice carried up the stairs. “You needed time to recuperate.”
Dad reached out to me then pulled back.
I took his hand, and the vines that had been holding mine retreated to allow room for his.
“It was too much on your body, cariña.” He squeezed my fingers lightly. “Your grandmother didn’t even know a witch could pull someone out of the veil. That it was even possible.”
Speaking of grandmothers, where was Ruthie?
Before I could ask, Papi said, “You are remarkable.”
“You are,” Annette agreed, looking around. “Percy, may I?”
The vines retreated instantly, and then Annette did something that would’ve proven this a dream if it weren’t—she rushed forward and hugged me.
Still in shock, I hugged her back. “You’ve embraced the darkness?”
“Darkness?” A few inches shorter than my five-five, she pulled back and looked up.
“Hugging.”
She laughed through a soft sob and hugged me again. My dads joined her, and we stood in each other’s embrace for a solid minute. Partly because it felt wonderful and nourishing and reassuring, and partly because I was too humiliated to ever face Roane Wildes again. Mostly because I was too humiliated to ever face Roane Wildes again.
“Let’s get you dressed,” Annette said after we disentangled ourselves.
It was only then that I realized the gauze gown I wore was a tad see-through. Great. My face caught fire as I looked back at Roane, who’s expression was full of sympathy. Humiliation stung the backs of my eyes.
“The answer is yes.” His voice, smooth and deep, sent a ripple of heat straight to my core.
“Yes?”
He graced me with a lopsided grin. “The cherry stem.”
And my mortification was complete.
“I’ll demonstrate whenever you’re ready.” To the warning glares he received from my dads in response, he added, “On an actual cherry stem. Naturally.”
Two
Q: How many witches does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: Into what?
I sat on my bed with Annette, our legs tucked under us as we discussed my recent sabbatical. “How is this even possible?”
“Deph, it was like you were trapped in a fairy tale.” Excitement brimmed not just in her face but across her whole body, turning her into the proverbial kid in the candy store. “I tried to convince Roane to kiss you to wake you up, but he didn’t want his throat slit.”
I gasped. “Percy would really do that?” He’d make a killing as bodyguard. If he could leave the house.
She lifted a noncommittal shoulder. “He wouldn’t let us near you. I don’t know what he would’ve done.”
I dropped my face in my hands and mumbled into my palms. “How am I ever going to ever face him again?”
“Percy?”
Shaking my head, I lowered my hands to my knees.
Nette grinned like she’d just eaten every morsel in said candy store. “Do you honestly think Roane wasn’t flattered?”
“Which time?” The words dripped with sarcasm. “When I suggested he bury his bone or when I proposed he butter his biscuit?”
“Well, I’m no Roane—”
“Thank God.”
“But I rather liked the cookies and cream thing.”
I dropped my face into my hands again, and she hesitantly patted my head