wasn’t surprised when Eli came back, toting oversized pillows from the TV room. “One of these is sticky with chocolate and marshmallow.” He dropped three pillows and carried one off, saying, “The kids are charming but messy. Told you we’d need washable shams.”
I vaguely remembered that. So maybe he did have ESP. “Where’s Shiloh?” I called to him.
“In your tub.”
“Oh. Yuck. You coulda put her in a guest bath.”
“Babe.” He stopped and looked back at me. Took a pull on his beer. There was an almost-smile on his mouth. “I certainly could have.”
I stuck out my tongue at him, as if he was my big brother and I was a brat. And once again, I didn’t hurt quite so much. I had family. I had clan. I had kits. Life could have been a lot worse.
* * *
* * *
Big Evan half fell, half rolled onto the pillow, his legs bent uncomfortably, and told Eli, “You know you’re going to need a forklift to get me up, right, dude?”
Eli gave a faint smile. “I’ll manage.”
“I’m still weak from childbirth,” Molly said, taking her seat. “If I can roll to my knees and get to my feet, you can, too. Stop whining.”
Evan said to me, “She’s been this way ever since she gave birth. Bossy.”
“She’s always bossy,” I said.
“I’m sitting right here,” she said. “In the room with you.”
“When she was giving birth to Cassy, she ordered the nurses around, and when they refused to do every little thing she said, she knocked over the IV pole and broke things. Then she threatened to kill me if I ever touched her again.”
“I knocked over the IV pole because I was in pain and no one would give me the good drugs. I threatened you for the same reason.”
“Uh-huh. Bossy. And I love you for it.”
Bruiser was hovering in the shadows of the opening to the back mudroom entry. He was half-hidden by the kitchen island and was watching me with such tenderness, my heart turned over and landed in a puddle of coronary mush. He raised his brows in a question and gestured at the big space. His lips moved soundlessly: You okay?
I nodded.
He blew a kiss my way. It was a sweetness I had never experienced before. My coronary mush was so syrupy it was like molasses and brown sugar and marshmallow cream. I smiled at him and eased down to the pillow placed for me. When I looked up again, Bruiser and Eli were exchanging hand signals. They were both weaponed up and wearing comms headgear and multi-ocular eyepieces, ready to protect the inn while the rest of us were occupied trying to find and reach Ed.
Molly was watching me, wearing an expression I couldn’t name. It was penetrating and affectionate and I turned my head away, uncomfortable. People loved me. It was weird.
The circle had been made by flour from the kitchen to represent Molly’s earth magics and with five small wood flutes placed at the five points of the pentagram. The flutes would call to Evan’s air magic. The two-foot-tall rosemary plant by Molly’s knee was a call to life. I studied the plant, inhaling the rich herbal scent. Molly had brought a dead rosemary plant back to life once. . . . I looked my question at her and she gave me a saucy grin, as if she was saying, Yeah. So what? She was in control of her death magics, which was good. “I’m ready,” I said.
Beast thought, Beast needs dead cow for magic.
No. You don’t, I thought back.
She chuffed at me, cat laughter.
“And so are we,” Moll said. “Put on the crown. Take up the Glob. And here’s a lancet set.” She tore open some sterile packets, arranged everything on a silver tray, and held it out to me. “Clean your finger with the alcohol, prick your finger, and let three drops of blood fall into the silver chalice.”
I took the tray from her and fought laughter because this circle was supposed to be sacrosanct and laughing at her here seemed rude. “This isn’t a chalice,” I said, straight-faced, holding it up. “This is a silver shot glass.”
“If I say it’s a chalice, it’s a chalice,” Molly said, her eyes narrowing.
“Bossy,” Evan said.
“Stop saying that.”
“She’s so sexy when she’s bossy,” Big Evan said to me.
“TMI,” I said. “Waaay too much TMI.” Molly glared at me and I flapped a hand at her. “Okay, fine. Whatever. Your shot glass is a chalice.”