Page 101 of Truly Madly Magically

Emerson meets his gaze. “I’m sorry, Nicholas,” she says, using the first name that generally only Rebekah uses.

Maybe that melts something in him. “It is better we protect ourselves and each other than a house.” His mouth even curves. “I have had quite a few of them in my time.”

Emerson nods. “We know what they’ve got, but not what they’ll do. Which means all we can do is focus on what we can do. What are the updates on the Summoner ritual, Jacob?”

“We’ve decided to hold the blood ritual the night before Samhain,” Jacob says, “assuming the ascension trial doesn’t create a conflict.”

“If it does?” Emerson fires back, clearly his leader, not his fiancée, just then.

But Jacob wouldn’t be the man for her if things like that bothered him. They don’t. We can all see it in the way he nods. “Good question. We have to hope it won’t, and if it does, plan to move directly into the ritual when the trial is done. We have to do this at the safest time, but everyone agrees that the ritual needs to be completed before Samhain.”

Before the Joywood secure their power and kill us all for our temerity in challenging them, he means.

Beside me, I feel Zander tense. Emerson, usually the soul of optimism, frowns—but doesn’t argue, which is probably the scariest part yet.

“We know the bricks are the most protected, but it’s safest if we do this ritual somewhere with more room,” Jacob continues in the same steady way, and I let his steadiness soothe me. “We’ve decided on the cemetery. With Summoners’ connection to the spirit world, it seems the safest place.”

Everyone makes affirmative noises, as if they can’t think of a safer place themselves, even Frost.

Well.

Almost everyone.

“Why isn’t anyone saying what we’re all thinking?” Zander demands. Tense and stormy. “They’ve got the weasel—who bartered in dark magic with his blood. Maybe that was his true, useless form, but if the Joywood went through all the trouble of stealing him, it’s for something. That something is to hurt us, but first and foremost to hurt Ellowyn.”

“We’re all in danger,” I say carefully.

And I say it, so.

He glares at me. “Name one person who’s been attacked the way you have.”

“Other Summoners, Zander. They need protecting too.” I keep holding his gaze. “You know this.”

Better than most.

I can see the way the loss of Zelda ravages him all over again, or still, right here in this taut little moment.

“No one will be more protected during the ritual than Ellowyn,” Jacob says, calmly. “We’ve talked to Tanith about participating, along with your father, Zander. It isn’t only us against the dark now. It’s a community of light.” He pauses, then sounds almost reluctant as he finishes his list of participants. “Elspeth will be joining us as well.”

I don’t know if everyone can hear the way Zander growls at that, but I can feel it. “Oh, my aunt who refused to talk to my mother because she married down is going to help? Awesome.”

“She’s powerful, Zander,” Emerson says. “You know that too.”

He shoves his hands through his hair, but he doesn’t explode. “Knowing it and liking it are two different things.”

“I don’t think any of us has to like this,” I say. Not just to Zander, but to the whole group. Because maybe Emerson can Warrior herself through this, but the simple fact is we’re all a little shaken by the weasel being taken.

It means something. Something bad.

“We always knew there was going to be a fight. One where maybe we fail or even die.” I send Emerson a sharp look so she doesn’t take my saying this as a call for fist pumps. “The Joywood can still win, but so can we. Jacob is right. This isn’t just us against them anymore. We have a whole community. The slightly more than half of St. Cyprian who have supported us since Litha, and who knows how many more since then? If we depend on them—the way the Joywood would never depend on people they see as beneath them—we already have a leg up. Plus we’re bright and good instead of wrong and dark. That matters.”

I look around the room, suddenly all too aware everyone is staring at me. Including our two ghosts, appearing from wherever they’ve been hiding, their eyes shining.

I clear my throat and sit down, now that I realize I’m standing.

“A pep talk from Ellowyn Good,” Rebekah says in a voice of sheer wonder, her mouth curved and her eyes sparkling with emotion. “That has to mean anything can happen.”

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