the emblem.
“Since when did Ferrari start making SUVs?” she asked despite herself.
“I know, right?” Reagan huffed. “Sellouts. This one hasn’t released to the general public yet. I’m only driving it because it’s Moss’s new car, and he’s going to be pissed it was stolen.”
“Wait,” Penny said, “that’s Moss’s? Did my mother put you up to this?”
“Yup,” Reagan replied with a smirk.
“Who is Mo—”
“Got something for ya,” Reagan cut Charity off, pulling out a long parcel wrapped in a burlap sack.
“It’s easier if you roll with it,” Devon told Charity softly, his hand on her back.
“Roll with what?” Charity asked.
“Us.” Reagan strode toward them, holding the parcel out in front of her. “Well, Penny, to be precise. She wears on you at first, but eventually she redeems herself.”
“Her jokes never get any better,” Penny said.
Reagan laughed. “Why improve upon perfection?” She stopped in front of Charity. “I’m Reagan, the happily insane one. Damn glad to meet you. You have a long, crazy road ahead of you, but what an introduction to your mettle, huh? I was hanging on the edge of my seat, listening to Roger recount the story.” She pushed the parcel out a little more. “Dizzy made this for you.” Clearly seeing Charity’s confused look, she said, “A dual-mage friend of mine. It seems Roger isn’t nearly as cheap as we all thought.”
Roger shifted his weight, but didn’t comment. Charity barely stopped her jaw from dropping open. Was this what Devon meant by rolling with it? She hadn’t realized Roger was capable of “rolling” with anything.
“Go ahead,” Reagan said, hefting the parcel. “Open it.”
Charity gingerly took the package, the core hard and unmoving. She peeled back the burlap, and the sun glinted on deep crimson metal. Removing the rest of the covering, she sucked in a breath.
The sword’s finely wrought handle practically glued itself to her palm, finally quelling the itch she’d felt since her power had awakened. Magic flowed out of her and into the metal, a soft hum cutting through the silence. The tip of the deep crimson blade sparked before a sheen of light flowed back over the weapon and soaked into it. She sighed, letting her eyes drift closed. The hilt in her hand felt…divine. Perfect. She didn’t even feel the need to sprint at the onlookers and cut off their heads. She was content to hold it in the sunlight, feeling the warmth on her face and in her body.
Reagan stepped back. “Welcome to magic. We have the coolest stuff.”
“The magical properties of that blade can be altered, depending on how your magic grows,” Roger said. He gestured Charity closer. “I had the maker—Dizzy—research the types of blades warrior fae used back when they roamed the Brink. He fashioned something in that vein.”
“My mother gave it some finishing touches, based on what she saw,” Penny said.
“What she…saw?” Charity asked, lowering the sword to her side. She didn’t want to let it go.
Reagan grimaced. “She’s a Seer. The worst type of magic, if you ask me.”
“Please, Charity, come inside,” Roger said, putting out his hand.
Reagan frowned and turned toward him. “Since when do you ask nicely?” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, now I remember. After you get thrown through a window.”
Roger’s face closed down into a terrifying mask of rage. A thread of anxiety wormed through Charity, and Devon stiffened. Unbelievably, Reagan laughed and turned, falling in beside them.
“By the way, Devon,” she said as Devon gently nudged Charity to start walking, “I heard you had a little soiree in your backyard. I’m pissed you didn’t invite me. I mean, I wouldn’t have been able to participate, what with vampire politics and all, but man, would I have liked to see Vlad’s face when Charity barbecued him. I am so sorry I missed that.”
“The ward was poorly done if a bunch of vampires could break through.” Penny looked out toward the trees. “We can keep it roughly the same size, Roger, but I wouldn’t be opposed to adding some booby traps. Charity’s magic is fascinating. Bold and electric. It has this”—Penny closed her eyes and tilted her face upward—“lightness to it. Pureness.” She smiled and touched her middle. “It feels good. Like the pulse of life. I can see why shifters are drawn to it.”
Charity swung the sword, just to feel its weight. “What magic do you have?”
“She’s a natural dual-mage with spunk.” Reagan winked at Charity. “She stole the spunk from a nasty little goblin.”
“I didn’t steal it,” Penny replied with the annoyance of