Witching Hour (Blood Magic #3) - L.H. Cosway Page 0,50

back in his wallet. I tried not to fixate too much on why he wanted me to have his money. It was the sort of thing boyfriends did for girlfriends, but it wasn’t that way between us. I groaned inwardly, knowing we were going to have to have that awkward conversation sooner rather than later.

Upstairs, I took a shower and changed my clothes before heading out to the RV to see if Rita wanted to come shopping with me. She agreed, and Noreen and Alvie ended up tagging along as well. I took the opportunity to tell them all about Edwards and his journey to bring back Dad.

“This Edwards must be a very brave man,” Noreen commented.

“Yeah. He seemed to relish the potential danger. Maybe it’s a demon trait. He kept saying how he wanted one last adventure.”

“Did he talk about any of his previous excursions?” Rita asked, browsing through a rack of dresses.

“To hell, you mean?” She nodded. “No, everything was all so rushed. I didn’t really have much time to talk to him properly. We basically just collected him from the airport and brought him to the cave. Why do you ask?”

She grinned at me. “Don’t you find it fascinating, the fact that all of these other worlds exist that we don’t even know about? The possibilities of what they might be like are endless.”

“I think I’ll stick with good old fashioned earth myself,” Alvie said with a chuckle.

“That’s you and me both,” I agreed.

“I don’t know. Someday I’d like to try and figure out a spell that could open up a door to another dimension.”

“You already have. Remember, when you banished Theodore?”

“Yeah, but that was a banishment spell. I’d like to figure out something less dramatic. A way of just stepping in and out whenever I like.”

“Oh, my God, you’re jealous of Edwards, aren’t you? The way I told you how he just drew a circle in the air and a hole opened up.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. It’d be cool to be able to do something like that.”

“You can do enough cool stuff as it is,” Alvie pointed out.

“Not as many as Tegan,” she argued.

“At least you know what you’re doing when you use magic. Half the time I’m clueless, just going around shooting in the dark.”

It irritated me a little that she couldn’t just be happy with the magic she already had. I walked away from her and went over to check out some T-shirts. I found a white one with the slogan “Keep Calm and Carry Garlic” written on the front. Snickering to myself, I threw it over my arm and decided to buy it. It’d be funny to see how Ethan reacted when I wore it, if nothing else.

It was after two when we got home from shopping. I went inside and hung out with Ira for a while. I asked him to tell me about his childhood and what it was like growing up as a shapeshifter.

We talked for a long time, sharing several cups of tea and some Turkish Delight as we chatted and got to know each other better. I enjoyed talking with him so much that it irritated me when we were interrupted by a knock at the front door.

Thinking it was probably Rita, I went to answer it. It wasn’t Rita though. A well-dressed lady stood on the doorstep. She looked to be in her late sixties, and she had really weird hair. It was split down the middle, with one side jet black and the other silvery grey.

“I’m here for Ira Wolf,” she said, eyeing me up and down.

I eyed her up and down right back, folding my arms as I leaned against the doorjamb. “Oh yeah, and who are you?” I wasn’t normally so rude to strangers, but this woman had a haughty attitude, and it put me on the defensive.

“Do not test me, girl. I’m here for Ira. Bring him to me and there won’t be any trouble.”

“Listen, lady, I’m not doing anything for you until you tell me who you are and what you want with Ira.”

She sighed and flicked her long, two-toned hair over her shoulder. She wore an expensive wool coat, black leather boots with severely pointed toes, and dark green leather gloves. Glancing past me and into the house, she called out, “Ira! I know you’re in there. Come out here and face me.”

Seconds later, Ira filled the doorway behind me, emanating pure anger as he glared at the woman. “Emilia,” he growled.

Emilia?

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