Page 51 of Elora and the Crow

He paused on the bottom stair before rolling his eyes and heading toward the living room. He was being ridiculous. It wouldn’t be an intruder, and even if it was, he had weapons stashed all over the damn house. Hell, there was a twelve-inch Bowie knife hidden in the bookshelf just inside the door of the living room. But more likely, it was Caleb here to get his things, and this would be the perfect time for Jonah to convince him he couldn’t return to the fae. Caleb might suddenly be pissed at him, but even he wouldn’t stay with the fae after he saw what they did to Jonah.

He stepped into the living room, his eyes widening in shock.

“This is fine. Everything is fine!” Elora shouted as bright blue flames shot three feet into the air from the small cauldron she stood over.

“It is not fine, Elora!” Cece shouted back before grabbing a fire blanket and elbowing Elora out of the way. She threw the blanket over the cauldron, smothering the fire, then examined the side table the cauldron sat on. “We’ve burned the shit out of this table. Jonah will kill us when he sees it.”

“No, he won’t.” Elora scrolled across her tablet. “I’m making this to help heal him.”

“This table looks super expensive,” Cece said worriedly.

“Everything he owns is super expensive,” Elora said as she read the tablet screen. “Maybe we can buff the char marks out before he sees them.”

She frowned as she stared at the screen. “Shit, I can’t figure out what I did wrong. I mean, it’s supposed to flame a little, but not like that. Maybe I added too much inglewort to it?”

Cece peered over her shoulder. “Did you add the daisy petals? I don’t remember you adding them.”

“Oh crap, no,” Elora said. “Okay, that must be what went wrong. C’mon, let’s try it again.”

Cece pulled off the blanket, peering into the cauldron before coughing and waving her hand in front of her face to dissipate the thick smoke that emerged from it. “Maybe we should take a lunch break. You haven’t eaten all day, and your magic always goes a little wonky when you’re hungry.”

“His hand is broken, Cece,” Elora said. “It has to be so painful for him. I’d really like to get this made before he wakes up. We might even be able to heal it before he wakes. Then, it won’t be as painful for him as it’s healing.”

Jonah could feel a giant and, no doubt, ridiculous looking grin erupting on his face. His formerly pristine and sterile living room smelled like smoke and herbs, and it looked like Elora had brought every candle, spell book, and random jar of liquid from her apartment. They were strewn about the room haphazardly. One of the jars dripped a thick purple liquid that he was pretty sure was eating into the hardwood.

A few potted plants, no doubt from Cece’s house, were sitting on the floor along with a big leather bag nearly bursting with packaged dried plants. Another small cauldron sat next to the bag, along with a mortar and pestle.

Elora’s suitcase was open on the leather couch, her clothes mostly hanging out of it, and her spare robe draped across one couch arm.

They had dragged in the side table from the foyer and turned it into a makeshift altar. It was covered in drips of candle wax, and there was a big burn mark next to the cauldron.

His grin widened as he thought of the look on his interior decorator’s face if she could see the table now. She had paid nearly three thousand dollars for that side table.

“I really think you should eat first, Elora,” Cece said firmly. “It’s almost three in the afternoon, and, again, your magic gets a little… weird when you’re hungry.”

“I agree,” Jonah said before Elora could reply.

The two witches whipped around to face him, and he grinned at Elora. “Do I have to remind you of the time you tried to do a gravity spell on an empty stomach and nearly set the couch on fire?”

“Jonah, what are you doing down here?” Elora hurried forward. “You should be upstairs resting.”

“I woke up and heard a noise downstairs,” he said.

“Yeah, but you knew it would be me,” she said.

“I thought you had left,” he admitted, making her scowl.

Christ, she was even gorgeous when she scowled.

“I wouldn’t leave you,” she said. “You’re injured, and you need me.”

He cupped her face, his fear and loneliness banished by her warm presence. “You’re right. I do need you, little witch,” he said, his voice low and tender.

She stared at him, her cheeks a soft pink and her full lips slightly parted. Before he could give in to what he wanted and kiss her, she stepped back and cleared her throat, glancing at Cece, who stared at them with amusement. “Right, um, I’m just working on a paste that, combined with a spell I found, should heal your broken hand.”

“Thank you, Elora,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” She rubbed her hands nervously over her robe. “Um, Cece made the paste for your back.”

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