Page 56 of Wicching Hour

“Okay, love, have a good evening,” he said easily, as though my heart hadn’t just seized.

“Bye,” I choked out and then sat, stunned. He’d called melove. I didn’t—how was I supposed to react to that?

“Well?” Mom asked, interrupting my internal meltdown. “Does he still have the evidence?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to say words yet.

“I don’t know,” Gran said. “I’m not comfortable getting human authorities involved.”

“I agree with Arwyn,” Bracken said, and my confused heart warmed. I wasn’t used to having someone jump in on my side. “Detective Osso is a black bear shifter, so he understands secrecy. Also, the most the Council can do is censure them, perhaps shun them, neither of which is commensurate with what they planned and what would have happened had Arwyn not thwarted them.”

I got up and walked to the window, my emotions still all over the place. He’d saidlove. “It’s not just that they need to be punished for trying to kill people to make me look bad. It’s also that if we don’t do something, they’ll continue to help Calliope destroy this family.” I pulled out my phone again. “I need to make sure Melissa and her crew don’t do or say anything to tip off Milo that we know.”

When I walked back into the living room from the kitchen, Melissa assuring me that nothing would be done until I gave her the go ahead—though she sorely wanted to tear him apart—I found Mom standing and Bracken gone.

At my confused look, Mom said, “Bracken will meet you at home. I told him I wanted to drive you back.”

“Oh. Okay.” Not gonna lie, I was disappointed. I wanted to ride in Bracken’s Bronco, but clearly Mom needed to talk to me. “Gran, let me know if you sense that entity back again.”

She nodded but seemed tired as she sipped her tea.

If I’d thought Mom wanted to talk with me, I was wrong. We sat in silence on the drive. “Mom, why did you want to drive me? What’s up?”

She was quiet a moment longer and then said, “Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” There was another long pause and then she said, “It must have been strange, your father just showing up like that.”

Ah, now we were getting down to it. “Thank goodness he did. I didn’t know what to do.”

She gave a vague “Hmm” and settled back into silence. It wasn’t long before she pulled up in front of the gallery. She put her car into park but still didn’t say anything.

“Just say what you want to say, Mom.”

She gave her head a quick shake. “Don’t be silly, darling. I’m glad it all worked out.” She paused. “It’s nice that you’re beginning to have a relationship with him.”

“I had to talk him into helping me protect Gran. He was all for letting the demon have her.”

She turned sharply at that. “He said that?”

“Yep. Called her an old barracuda. He complained that if he’d been allowed to see me as I was growing up, I’d have a much better understanding of my fae side and be better able to use my magic.” I watched the play of emotions across her face.

“I see. Did he say something similar about me? I mean, I’m sure he did. He was so angry with me.”

“Nope.” I picked up my backpack from between my feet. “He didn’t mention you.” I watched her face fall as she nodded her acceptance. “Of course, I did notice that he had a hard time keeping his eyes off you during opening night.”

Her eyes widened and then she quickly shook her head. “No. I did what I did, and I knew the consequences.” She gestured to the gallery’s door. “Go ahead. I’ll watch until you’re in.” She glanced up and down the road, so I did too. We were both looking for the stalker.

“I don’t see his car,” I told her.

“Good. You’re looking a little tired, darling. See if you can get to bed early tonight.”

Mom knew I rarely got more than a couple of hours of sleep a night, but this was our routine. She’d tell me to get more sleep, and I’d agree to try. We both knew it was useless, but we pretended.

I got out. “Thanks for the ride, Mom. Let me know what happens with the Council.AfterI talk with Osso, though.”

“I remember.” She waved and I closed her door. I flicked my fingers at the gallery door, went in, and locked it behind me.

The gallery was dim, the overhead lights off. A soft, pearly glow of early evening lit the way to the studio door. When I passed the café, my stomach twisted. That poor child would have writhed and died right here and for what? Money? A demon’s favor?

When I opened the studio door, my stomach twisted again. Oh no. I ran to the bathroom and was sick. I couldn’t get the image of that dying child and his wailing mother out of my head. After I cleaned myself up, I brewed some tea and took it to my chair to drink, hoping it would settle my stomach.

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