Page 158 of Last Gift: Supernatural Battle

Yep, we were Corentines.

Rooke slid me a look. “You seem set on decapitation, but what about plunging poisonous needles into the demon king’s back?”

“I mean, if that was an option…”

“I’ll get you the prototypes. They’re filled with your stuff.”

Your stuff. My brow cleared. Oh, my blood. “It stores well, then?”

“Sure does. He won’t know what hit him. He’ll be in agony.”

My lips curved. “Do you ever wonder if we’re related?”

She grinned. “I’ve gotten worse since you came here. I used to keep my bloodthirsty side tucked away.”

“That’s when twistedness becomes creepy. You should thank me.”

We entered the advisory chamber.

“I don’t know. Sometimes people don’t know what to make of me these days.”

“Want to hear a secret?”

“Well, seeing as I don’t want to possibly die tomorrow wondering what the secret is, yes.”

I flashed her a smile, then said, “People always think I’m joking when I say twisted stuff I fully wish or intend to do. I could talk about the delight of sinking a blade under someone’s ribs, and those around me would laugh. It’s a defensive thing, I’ve decided. But the ones who don’t laugh? They’re twisted fuckers too. Those are the ones to trust.”

Rooke didn’t laugh, proving my point. “Good to know.”

I faced the wall and waved a hand to reveal the coven symbols there. “How did I get landed with this job?”

“Because everyone’s trying but failing to pretend like they haven’t already made the choice to plant your ass on the authority again. Even if they’re determined to bring the matter to vote, they’re still treating you as our leader. Because that’s what you are and will always be because you’re just you. I shudder to think of you returning to a mere coven member.”

I glanced at her. “I make a great normal person.”

We laughed.

And as the utter lie of my words sank in for real, we laughed harder.

Normal, I was not.

Neither was my cousin, though. She’d just perfected my mother’s art of flying under the radar. How different life could be if Grandmother hadn’t shoved her loud genetics my way.

“Okay, settle the fuck down,” I told her. “I probably shouldn’t laugh while I do this.”

Mother be, that just made me want to laugh more.

I could die tomorrow.

Rooke could die.

We might never have another ridiculous and delirious conversation like this.

I laughed again. There was something wrong with me.

“Okay, message time.” I scanned the contents of the letter from Winona. It was a well-thought-out plea to the other covens to aid us. It outlined what maguskind might lose—the first mated couple—and highlighted the number of children in our midst.

“They’re being evacuated to High Esteemed Nightlock’s coven,” I murmured. “They want me to send a message about losing me.” Gross.

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