Page 2 of Last Gift: Supernatural Battle

I scowled at the floor at the four relics I’d discarded there. They’d chosen me during the battle against the demons. Turned out that Varden, my old friend, was right. The mating ritual between me and Wild had been integral to saving the coven. When we gained the fourth strand to our tether, and I was gifted with a grimoire affinity, Ryzika’s relics decided I was leadership material. One pendant, gemstone, robe, and dagger later, and a centuries-old game was suddenly over, and everyone was gaping at me like a beam of sunshine out of a unicorn’s butt.

I swallowed, closing my eyes. “I don’t want this.”

Wild could feel what I felt. Our power was like a dam we could open at any time, and our bodies were so in tune. The last step in the ritual had fused us tightly, and hiding anything from him was pointless—and not at all a desire of mine any longer.

He rolled to face me on the bed. “I wish you didn’t need to.”

Need.

That was the issue. Without a leader, the coven would resume Caves. If they resumed Caves, they wouldn’t give the demon army on their doorstep the total attention it required. Which may sound so bizarre because they’d seen the threat with their own eyes, but this game—man, was it under people’s skins. You’d think a hundred demons on their doorstep would band magus together and make them rethink their priorities, but a three-hundred-year-old tradition and routine was hard to erase overnight, and the demons’ magic was designed to keep the divide between Vero and Fertim wide and deep.

With a leader, the game was done. With a leader, this coven may survive.

I wanted a leader.

I just didn’t want that to be me. How about Varden or Winona or Delta? I’d take Barrow or maybe Opal. Wild would be the perfect candidate.

“Stop being selfish,” Huxley told me.

Ass.

“Even though we see her potential clearly, Tempest may feel backed into a corner,” Corentin gently rebuked him.

I’d known from the start that the quad would kill me one day, and Positive Patrick may be the guy to finally do it. “I’ll do what’s needed. Don’t worry.”

Until the war is won.

I felt Wild’s gaze on me, then received his understanding through our green strand a second later. This queen of the coven shit wasn’t me. I’d stand in during the danger, but this gal?

She had secrets. And I didn’t mind having secrets, as such. Wasn’t like I’d asked to be half demon and never have knowledge of it. What I didn’t like were hypocrites. Standing before the coven, wearing precious relics, and telling them what to do to kill demons when they had no idea I was one just didn’t sit right.

“What’s the plan?” I asked Sven.

Kind of surprising to see him away from my cousin’s side. Maybe that was why he was so quiet, though he otherwise appeared normal. Still hulking and tall. Still dressed in his token button-up shirt. Perhaps with less of a playful glint in his eyes than when we’d first met, but that was true of us all. “My whispers are working around the clock on damage control.”

During the fight with the demons, our group and Varden had revealed a curious lack of surprise and more than was usual knowledge on how to protect the coven against the demons. That didn’t go unnoticed. “Are they managing things?”

“My parents are using their power against me.” He sighed and ran his hands through his short hair. “I don’t believe they’re trying to prevent your accession. More like they want to know what’s happened. They’re digging when I want to smooth the soil over.”

“It’s taking a lot from you?” Wild asked his friend.

Sven lifted a shoulder. “Nothing I can’t handle. It’s important to play the accession right, though. That will help my magic. Tempest, I considered going with the open and smiling route. The welcoming, nurturing path. But that’s just not you.”

Huxley laughed, and I pondered whether to be insulted.

Was Sven right?

Yes.

Not that I had a resting bitch face as such. I gave off a slight maiming vibe. People didn’t always like that.

“So we’re going with the untouchable route,” Sven continued. “You’re a mystery. You’re someone people want to emulate—like copying you with dawn walks. You know stuff because you’re from the outside. Your connection to the Mother is something the rest of us can only dream of. She struck you with lightning and gave you grimoire to defeat the demons. Un-touch-able.”

Pretty sure Wild sexed grimoire into me—though he’d conversed with the Mother while she held him in a deep sleep. She’d told him that his waking needed to occur at the right time. What else she may have said, Wild hadn’t yet shared.

“The lightning holder,” Sven boomed, then nodded. “The Mother’s Chosen. Magus Elite. Possessor of All Affinities.”

My nausea mounted with every title. Talk about blowing smoke up my ass.

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