Page 29 of Last Gift: Supernatural Battle

I nodded. “I didn’t want to make this move with the other species straight away, but only seven covens have voiced their support. With training and time to get defenses in place, we can survive an attack of the last size, as long as the demons don’t have any new tricks. But if the demon king sends more…”

“Vissimo and Luthers would be great to have around,” Sven finished.

“Each of our races will have information on the demons, not to mention the differences in our individual powers. We need many strengths and every bit of knowledge to finish this for good.”

“For good,” Rooke repeated.

“We can’t live our lives defending the coven against constant threat.” Bedwyr made that clear. I had powers the other magus didn’t, and that gave me some certainty. They didn’t have any of that. Varden had slept in the quarters I’d just taken over. He’d told me how that job affected him. I’d seen the physical signs—the ulcers on his body—that told me how demon magic could eat at a magus. “We need to ensure the demons won’t attack every week—or year—or decade. We need a permanent solution.” Otherwise, perhaps the solution was to give the demons the territory they wanted and seek refuge in another area.

Which would mean fighting other supernaturals for their territory, thereby doing the same thing to them that the demons were doing to us.

“You’re right,” Sven said. “We can’t live under that threat year after year.”

We fell quiet as the bar came into sight.

I hadn’t been back to this dusty, greasy place since Rooke and I snuck out, and it was a strange feeling to have been here last as someone without knowledge of her true heritage. Without the addition of four relics. Without a bond to Wild.

That woman felt like a child to me now.

I entered the bar, opting to sit in the keg shadows Wild had once occupied. The others sat either side of me, and Rooke ordered our drinks.

I accepted the absinthe shot, casting her a questioning look.

She shrugged. “That’s what I’m being told you need.”

“I’m surprised I don’t need gasoline.” Absinthe was a win.

No longer than a minute passed before a human joined us.

“You took your time,” the red-haired woman said to me.

I looked up at Rhona. “You spend all your nights here?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “And it’s fucking boring.”

I bet it was. “Your leaders will be glad you persevered.”

Something flickered over her expression. Regret? Determination? Rhona tilted her chin. “I hope so.”

I sipped at my absinthe. “You have something to prove.”

She met my gaze without flinching. “A mistake to rectify. Trust to repair.”

The human red-headed woman was prickly as fuck, but I could appreciate the amount of work it might have taken her to make such an admission to herself and me too. Some people volleyed between pride and denial like a fucking beach ball at spring break. From pride to denial and denial to pride, one reinforcing the other until a stunted person who couldn’t admit failure, and therefore never progressed, was all that remained.

“Let’s grab a table,” I said.

“We’ll go to my table. No one comes near it anymore,” she answered.

I wonder why.

We sat at her corner table, and she glanced at Sven and Rooke. “They’re not coming?”

“No, not this time.” I clasped my hands together atop the table. “Things have changed since my friends delivered the last message.”

“The one who told me to wait some more.” Rhona scowled.

I didn’t smirk. Just. “I can deal with your leaders, and those of the Vissimo clan in Bluff City, directly as the leader of The Buried Knolls coven.”

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