Page 11 of Magic's Rise

“Tell that to Aspen,” I grumble.

He turns to me, a hard glint in his eyes. “I’ll do more than tell him.”

The way Ros holds the spatula makes me nervous. “No killing my mentor.”

“Who are we killing?” Haut shuffles into the kitchen from the hallway that leads to his first-story bedroom.

“Aspen.” Ros slaps the spatula against Haut’s knuckles as he steals a slice of bacon.

Half vanishes in a single bite, and Haut joins me at the counter, offering me the rest. “Need me to take him for a short walk in the woods, bad puppy?”

“No.” I eat the crispy piece of heaven from his fingers. “I’m handling him.”

Owen rubs his eyes as he walks through the kitchen archway. “Who are we handling?”

I sigh. “You guys have super hearing. Use it so we don’t have to repeat everything.”

Owen beelines for the coffee pot. “Aren’t you the one always complaining about eavesdropping?”

“You’re very selective about the things you listen to.” I nudge Haut and point at the bacon, mouthing, Fetch.

His eyebrows arch, but he sneaks up on silent feet behind Ros and reaches for the plate.

The spatula cracks against his knuckles again with military precision.

“I may not have super hearing, but I am a hunter.” Ros nudges Haut to the side with his hip to open the waffle iron. “Get the plates. Breakfast is ready.”

Owen pauses in the process of pulling down mugs to check the clock on the microwave. “Someone should wake up Tris, or he’ll be late for work.”

“Tris!” Haut cups his hands around his mouth. “Wakey-wakey! You better get down here before we eat all the bacon!”

A heavy thump comes from upstairs, rattling the pictures on the wall.

Owen frowns and cocks his head. “Is someone at the porch?”

I snicker. “Pretty sure that was Tris falling out of bed.”

My laugh cuts off as a knock sounds on the front door.

Ros turns from the stove with a plate piled high with bacon and another with waffles. “Who would be here at this time of the morning?”

“Only one way to find out.” I bounce toward the foyer, yelling up the stairs as I pass. “Tris, are you okay up there? Please tell me you didn’t break anything too important.”

“My dick and face are fine!” he shouts back.

“Wait a second, Rowe,” Owen cautions.

Too late, I swing the door open and stare up in confusion at the stranger on our porch. He stands with a cowboy hat in his hands, his brown hair swept back from his face.

My hand on the doorknob tightens, and I shiver as cold air slips past the closed screen door.

“Hello, ma’am.” His nose twitches. “Sorry to disrupt your breakfast. My name’s Levi.”

His formal tone takes me aback. Has anyone ever called me ma’am? Makes me feel damn near adult.

“Hi, Levi.” I wrack my mind for any Levis I’ve met and come up blank. “What brings you here?”

Levi’s uncertain gaze sweeps over me. “The folks in town said the Wendall witch lives here?”

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