was killing too many of us.”
His arrogance grates on my last nerve, and I’m not even sure how to respond to anything he just said. “Who are you, and what do you want?” I snap.
He leans back in the obsidian velvet wingback chair that my Grammy used to love. I try not to give into the anger that surges in me as he makes himself comfortable in it, and focus on what to do about him.
There are rules about familiars, and this guy just admitted to breaking most of them. If I could just find a member of the Order and report him, I should be good. They would know what to do, how to fix this. The only problem with that is, I have no idea how to find one. I don’t have the foggiest clue how any of this really works, because I’ve been a damn Osteomancer for less than a day.
“My name is Rogan Kendrick,” he starts, pulling me from my powerless thoughts. “I’m sorry to do what I did to you, but you need protection, and I need your help. We’re running out of time.”
I cross my arms over my chest and cock an eyebrow, silently saying go on.
“A week and a half ago, my brother disappeared. I’m trying to find who took him, and for that, I need your help.”
Empathy swells in my chest, but I remind it that this guy just broke magical law and bound us together without my consent, so it can just fuck off. “What is it that you think I can do?” I snap, half irritated with him and half irritated with how quickly I felt bad for him despite what he’s just done to me.
“For starters, you can tell me what you get from this,” he explains, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small plastic bag, containing what looks to be a light gray powder.
“And it never occurred to you to just ask me to help you with that?” I demand, pointing to the bag in his hand and trying really hard not to punch him again.
“That’s initially what I hoped Ruby would do. That’s why I came out here. But when you said that she had died, I worried that they had gotten to her somehow and that you would be next,” he defends, and my brow furrows with confusion.
“Who is they?”
Rogan pushes out of my grandmother’s chair and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure,” he confesses, deflating slightly, and alarm bells go off in my head.
This dude is mental. I’ve been attacked and bound to a man that is certifiable. Oh goody.
I take a step back, and his eyes narrow. Of course he has gorgeous long black eyelashes framing his already captivating green eyes. He’s the most dangerous lure I’ve ever seen: mouthwatering on the outside with a crunchy batshit-crazy center.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he growls.
“Excuse me? You waltzed into my shop, magicked me, and dropped your crazy right on the ground for all to see. I’ll look at you any damn way I want to.”
“I’m not crazy, and I’m not wrong. Something is going on in the magical community. Someone is taking our kind. There are four Osteomancers on the northern continent—know how many of them are missing?”
I gape at him, not sure what to say.
“All of them except you.”
“You’re an Osteomancer?” I ask, surprised by the discovery. I figured we’d give each other the tingles or there’d be a knowing sensation that would come over me when I was near another witch.
“No. I’m a Hemamancer, my brother is the Bone Witch in the family.”
It takes me a moment to mentally flip through my lessons as a kid and figure out what that means.
He’s a Blood Witch.
I guess that explains what he did earlier when he knocked me out. “Wait, you can have more than one kind of magic in a blood line?” I ask, shocked.
He gives me an incredulous look, like he thinks my question is somehow mocking him. “Did your grandmother not teach you about our world?” Moss-green eyes take me in with concern, and there’s a definitive spark of judgment in his gaze.
“She tried.” I pause, feeling sheepish and hating it. “Everyone in my family thought the bones would go to someone else. I didn’t think I needed to pay much attention,” I admit.
“So you don’t even know what you’re doing?” he demands dubiously, looking around as though he’s now questioning what he’s gotten himself