Because I’m so good at it, I lie to myself, too. I spin those fantasies of everything working out exactly right and refuse to pay attention to any fantasy where Grayson is whole and healthy and looking at me the way my fiancé is supposed to.
Trees thin out the closer we get to town. The recognizable landmarks of storefronts and road signs are a welcome end to this horrible trek.
And I left my sister behind in the carnage.
Odds are good the others will eventually take down the moon-mad wolves, but at what cost to the pack? And how much destruction will there be to clean up?
Please let my family be okay.
“We’re almost there,” I assure Grayson.
My legs tremble and rather than stopping, the tremor creeps higher. My vision blurs and for a second, blackness swims across my vision.
I swallow compulsively. Now would be the worst time to pass out.
Grayson recovers long enough to switch our positions. He nudges me, gathering my weight, and we lean on each other. Two young people whose lives haven’t even started but don’t realize we’re already dead.
And when we stop in front of the right house, on the right street, I almost pass out. Aimee is in the yard with a bruise on her cheekbone but otherwise fine. She lifts her arms to hang a talisman of twigs and bone and crystals from a maple tree branch.
The scent of magic, sweet but laced with ozone, cackles through my senses.
They’re enforcing the wards around the house.Smart.
Aimee turns at the sensation of eyes on her and cries out, dropping the talisman before she completes the knot.
Even from a distance, the scratches on her forehead are clear.
“RJ! They’re here.” Aimee draws in a breath before jogging toward us. “They made it.”
She pulls up short at whatever she catches on her inhale. Her knowing gaze falls on Grayson’s face.
“I thought things were turning around because you managed to get free,” she mutters, rushing over to help me.
“Oh, no. It’s too much to ask for,” I mutter. “The best we can do is mildly maimed. Does it still count?”
Things are only getting worse for us.
“How long has he been sick?” Aimee asks me the question instead of Grayson. “He’s got a fever.”
He’s also hearing voices that aren’t there, and answering them more than he’s answering me.
“Long enough.”
“Come inside,” Aimee says. “Mom’s visiting one of our sister covens this week so we have the place to ourselves.”
RJ runs over and takes up the slack on Grayson’s other side. “Yeah, that’s one less thing to worry about at least.”
She may have meant that to be comforting, but as we cross the threshold of the old house, I can’t help thinking howlongthat list of problems is turning out to be and how quickly it’s all catching up to us.
Chapter
Eleven
After another shower and a change of clothes into an outfit donated by RJ, we settle in their attic with more talismans of protection hanging from ceiling and shelf.
I draw my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them.
Low burning cones of incense release trails of gray smoke in the air.