Page 26 of Livewire Witch

“Thank fuck,” Zeph mutters as he spots me. He’s mid-way through pouring a cup of coffee, which he thrusts at me as I approach. “I was about to use his head as a battering ram if he kept on knocking your door.”

“I was about to put him in a time-out,” Fabian adds from beside Zeph, looking up at me with a grin. His expression falters as he sees me and he frowns, opening and closing his mouth a few times like he’s struggling with the words to say.

Just as endearingly awkward as the first time I met him.

“You look like shit. Are you sure you’re good to go into the viper’s den today?” Zeph says, eyeing my face with a scowl that yesterday I would have said was aggressive. Today, though, I’m pretty sure he’s concerned about me.

When I stare at him cluelessly, Roscoe helps to fill in the gaps.

“We’re going to see your buddy Dante, remember?” Roscoe says. I have a distinct memory ofnotagreeing to that exact thing yesterday. But my brain’s foggy as hell at the moment. I have to struggle to think back, squinting my eyes up.

Aah, shit. I did agree to going to see Dante, didn’t I?

Seems like we’re going to pay a visit to my favorite vampire today. If it’ll get us a step closer to finding out who cursed Fabian and stopping them from doing the same thing to anyone else, I’m game. Even if I feel like death warmed up.

“It’s rude to tell a lady she looks like shit first thing in the morning,” I say. “Or any other time of day.”

“Not trying to be an ass, Little Witch.” Z grumbles into his own mug of coffee.

I eye my mug and see that it’s already been doctored to my preferences. Although the way that Zeph watches me take a sip has me half suspecting that he’s poisoned it.

“Good?” he grunts casually, raising one dark eyebrow.

I almost start laughing at his supposed nonchalance, despite the clear tension in his body as I take my first sip. It’s like he’s waiting on tenterhooks for my reaction.

It’s hot, sugary goodness with a sprinkling of nutmeg on top, sliding down my sore throat like liquid gold.

“It’s good,” I croak.

“Maybe you should rest more, spend time here. Watch TV. Hang out.” Every word comes out of Zeph’s mouth even more stilted than the last.

This new, concerned version of Zeph is weird.

Clearly I’m not the only one that thinks so either.

“Did you get body-snatched or something?” Roscoe asks him. “You’re being fucking weird, bro.”

“I told Silver yesterday. She sucks at looking after herself and needs people to look out for her.”

“I’m fine.” Probably. Although the heat of the coffee sends another bead of sweat rolling down my spine.

There’s a chance I’m coming down with something.

“I just need some fresh air. I haven’t been able to get much recently.”

Roscoe sidles up beside me and tosses his arm around my shoulders. I sink into his side, letting him take my weight and breathing in his familiar amber and vanilla scent as he beams down at me.

“I have a plan,” he says. “A way for you to move around the city without Felix being alerted.”

I nibble on a pastry and meet his excited hazel gaze. “All right. Hit me with it.”

Roscoe rolls up one sleeve, revealing one of his myriad tattoos and shaking his head until his long hair is brushed away from his face. I just watch silently, engrossed and waiting.

Until...

I’m no longer looking at Roscoe’s tall, tattooed form and instead I’m looking at... myself.

More than one of me, too. A row of five Silvers stand in front of me. It’s not the first time I’ve seen this little trick, but the last time I was kind of distracted and didn’t really appreciate how weird it was.

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