Page 60 of Marked By Night

Dante and Ash climb up next, leaving me alone with Elian. He runs a hand through the tuft of hair on the top of his head. His part has been shaved out, giving it a distinct line to the side.

We quietly stand there watching each other, not giving the other an inch. The tension in the air cackles between us, almost a palpable substance. He’s still wearing his leather jacket, and now that it’s light outside, his green eyes shine, until he narrows them.

Thankfully Kaos saves the day by calling out, “Clear!”

The standoff fizzles, yet my body tingles the entire way up the ladder. When I reach the top, my jaw drops. The whole vibe feels beyond magical. Not only because it’s a two-story house built into a tree that’s probably centuries old, but the atmosphere itself feels otherworldly.

Wafts of lavender and sage tickle my nostrils. Swirling glass bottles and books of all shapes and sizes line the shelves of her living room walls. A kitchenette and a staircase that leads to up the upper floor are situated to the left. To the right is a small workstation and fireplace.

Bedi motions to the circular sunken den in the center of her living room wrapped around the base of the tree. “Make yourselves at home,” she says. “Would you care for some tea while you’re waiting?”

“No,” Elian snaps before anyone else can speak.

My fists clench. “Speak for yourself, asshole.” Then I smile sweetly at his scowling face before turning to Bedi. “I’d love a cup. Thank you.”

“Me too!” Ash calls out after her as she turns away. Elian gives her a look and she shrugs. “What? Bedi makes the best tea around. I’m not passing it up because you’re an overprotective douche nozzle.”

“Douche nozzle?” he asks, fingers curling around his leather jacket as he adjusts it and sits down.

“I thought it was pretty self-explanatory,” I say, plopping down on the settee beside Ash. I let out a long groan as the tension in my body eases. Sitting in one position for so long has done a number on my muscles.

“He is, isn’t he?” Bedi comments from the kitchen. “I assure you; I’ve done nothing to the tea.” She eyes Elian as she turns around with a beautiful antique copper kettle.

She pours both of us a cup and one for herself. The steam rises instantly, wafting into the air, mixing with the lavender and sage. I inhale the tangy aroma with a sigh, but before I can take a sip of the delicious liquid, Dante snatches it out of my hands, taking a giant gulp. His face scrunches as he downs it, making a panting face afterward.

“That’s what you get for stealing my tea, you asshat.” I try to take it back, but he takes another sip, eyeing the cup appreciatively like he didn’t expect it to taste so good. Then he gives me a small shrug and plops down beside me on her couch.

“If you die from the poisoned tea, then so will I.”

Aww. That’s kind of—Wait a second. He’s trying to steal my tea. I snatch my cup back from his greedy hands, giving him an elbow for good measure.

“Get your own.”

Nobody steals my food or my tea.

Bedi’s tinkling laugh reaches my ears. When I glance over, I notice how much younger she looks. “How are you so young now?” I blurt.

Ash chokes, spitting her tea out. “That’s a little rude, don’t you think?” But there’s laughter behind her hazel eyes.

Unperturbed, Bedi gives me a warm smile. “Magic, of course. This is my true face. I figured you’d trust an old coot versus a dashing woman.”

Eh, not a bad assumption.

There’s a ring at the front door and I frown in confusion. Bedi is light as a feather on her feet as she waltzes over to the door. When she opens it there’s Goldie with his tail wagging and tongue lolling out of his mouth. He had to take the main stairs instead of the ladder and I feel bad for not remembering to do it myself.

“Such a good little pup, aren’t you?” Bedi coos, bending over to give him ear scratches before returning to the living room. Goldie lays down at my feet, giving my leg a small lick.

Bedi’s gaze flickers between each guy before her eyes land on me. “You’ve got yourself quite the little harem, haven’t you?”

“It’s looking that way,” I respond. “I haven’t decided if fate is laughing at me or trying to right some wrongs.” My admission makes everyone laugh, dissipating some of the tension.

Glancing around the treehouse, my attention snags on a wall of paper behind Bedi. Then my gaze zeroes on one scrap in particular. I stand, stalking toward the wall next to a writing desk scattered with pens and bottles of ink. I’m not worried about that.

No, now that I’m closer I can tell that each scrap of paper holds an image of a different, unique moment in my life. There are painful memories like of my uncle, his expression menacing. Then there are some more recent happier ones, like kissing Kaos at the concert. All of them are extremely detailed and seem hand-drawn.

I take a deep breath and move onto the one that caught my attention. All the wind is suddenly knocked out of my lungs as I run my fingers across the page reverently. Tears spring to my eyes unbidden.

“What the hell is this?” I demand, breathlessly.

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