“Oh no, it’ll be fine. I heal really quickly, Mr. Callium—”
“McMillian,” I corrected him.
“Mr. McCallium,” Edgar said. I let it go. “I’ve had worse. Once half my head was crushed in—”
“That explains some things,” Mr. Tom murmured.
“So long as no one cuts off my head or stabs silver through my heart, I’ll keep going, right as rain.”
“Put your hand down, man, this is serious,” my dad said, clearly at the end of his tether.
“Dad, head back to bed. We’ll take Edgar to the hospital,” I said even as my magic stitched up Edgar’s arm. “It’ll be fine by morning.”
“How did he even— What happened?” my dad demanded, Jake still in a death grip, as though the ancient battle-axe was the only thing connecting him to sanity.
“He scared me and I threw him through the door.”
My dad looked down the dim hall at me for a moment and blinked. “Huh.” He nodded. “Atta girl.” He shook his head, muttering to himself as he headed back to bed. By the time he left this house, nothing would faze him. Maybe nothing already did, given his non-reactions to everything he’d seen.
“Why did you want to see me, Edgar?” I asked, doing a sweep of the property, feeling the basajaun way out in the woods, moving slowly and probably silently, on patrol.
“I have something for you, Jessie. I found it! I think I found it, at any rate.” He finally put his hand down, now cradling his injured arm to his body. “I’ve had a breakthrough regarding the intruders’ ability to hide from Ivy House’s magic.”
Excitement rose through me, and I put out a finger. “Wait there. Let me get dressed.”
“You might get dressed, too, Mr. Steele,” Mr. Tom said.
Austin stood next to Edgar, his expression still hard but his focus now on me—or, more accurately, on my nighty.
Warmth infused my cheeks, and memories of last night filtered through my mind. I’d fallen asleep on the couch while watching TV with him, my legs across his thighs. I’d awoken in his arms while he gently transported me up to my room. I’d hugged him goodnight and then felt the need to sleep in something a little sexier than my normal T-shirt and undies.
Without a word, he turned and went back into his room. I returned to mine and changed in the closet so as not to give everyone another peep show. Austin and I met back in the hallway minutes later, both dressed. I could sense Edgar down in the kitchen with Mr. Tom, so I led the way, hurrying down the stairs as the house quieted down, everyone back in their rooms or their assigned spots for sentry duty.
“Coffee, miss?” Mr. Tom asked as I reached him. He held out a steaming white mug. “Mr. Steele?”
“Yeah, thanks,” Austin said, in gray sweats that actually fit him. He’d clearly brought his own.
Edgar stood by the window, looking out. “That basajaun needs to stay near the house, not way out in the woods. This is where the enemy will end up.”
“Basajaun rely on the woods for information,” Austin said as he got his cup of coffee. “They listen to the trees and the birds and the wildlife. They feel sensations through the ground. If he’s in the middle of the property, he can move in any direction at the first sign of a presence. Ivy House might not be able to sense the trespassers, but the intruders will brush against trees. They will be seen by the wildlife. Information of their presence will reach the basajaun. In the meantime, he isn’t leaving his scent near the deer’s usual hangout. No enemy wants to tango with a basajaun, no matter how fierce. Seeing it in action one time will tell you why.”
“You could take him,” I said. “You were bigger than him on your hind legs.”
“It’s not about size, it’s about ferocity, but yes, I could take him. I have my own unbridled ferocity. I cannot be tamed, despite how much I desperately wish I could.”
His cobalt eyes beat into mine, that last sentence for me specifically, I knew. His demons had clearly been haunting him last night.
“No man can be tamed,” I said, not trying to convince him or change the status quo, just speaking the truth as I knew it. “The only way a man can change is if he wants the change for himself. If it’s not initiated by him, he can bend, he can pretend, but he’ll go