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“Of course, he did,” I said, glaring at a snickering Conn. My high demon familiar looked quite proud that Mulan had credited him for her misdeeds.

I stood with my clothes in my arms and stared at their smiling faces for a moment. It made me happy to see them happy. Mulan had not been happy in a long while. If I told them the shaman staff had talked to me, they would stop laughing. Plus, I would have to explain way more than I felt like explaining this morning.

Not to mention all the questions I now had. Questions like... how did Mulan make her staff and how did she make the others she told me she’d made? Was she a closet necromancer of the magickals powering it? Or was there a spell that searched the world for the wandering souls of magickals who weren’t currently powering artifacts?

Part of me didn’t even want to know the answers. The part that wanted to know could just shut up this morning. Any discussion about talking artifacts needed to wait.

Unable to think of anything else safe to say before I had coffee, I headed to the bathroom to dress for the day. There was a carafe of liquid black heaven waiting in the dining room and it had my name on it.

Chapter Ten

Today I was the one hiding but I refused to be ashamed.

After spending the night with Rasmus, my thinking was clearer, and my confidence was stronger. That was why I’d dragged Zenos from the house when I saw Mulan climbing the stairs to see her parents. The loud discussion that followed echoed through every corner of the house despite its size.

Since it was happening in some form of Chinese dialect, I couldn’t understand a word being yelled. It crossed my mind to find Rasmus who’d smiled and winked at me at breakfast. I had a feeling he understood what was being said but preferred no one to know that fact.

I didn’t accuse him of holding out because of his standing offer to silence Mulan’s family. Also, I wasn’t sure about whether to let Rasmus confine themand thenseek Mulan’s forgiveness afterward.

They were getting on my last nerve with their spoiled demands to Henry’s people. One demon spoke enough of their language to understand and communicate what they expected.

So I ran like a coward after breakfast to avoid the situation and I took the snickering dragon mage with me. We went tomy sacred space and found wrought iron seats someone had thoughtfully placed around the fire pit.

Maybe they thought I would use the fire for roasting marshmallows. I’d never done such a thing, not even when Fiona was small. After I consecrated the pit, I would use it only for rituals and spell casting. I made a mental note to tell Gale we needed a separate one for personal use. Maybe putting it behind Fiona’s house made the most sense. She was the only party person among us.

I’d only offered to play hostess but not to mediate between the Wu Shaman and her family. My part of the deal was to offer them a place to sleep and Henry’s help to feed them.

“I appreciate all the patience ya’ve shown me, Zenos, but don’t ya think we’re at the point where I should learn something? All ya’ve done so far is test me and my patience.”

Zenos shrugged as he grinned at me. “Yer life is far too chaotic, even for me. We haven’t spent more than a few minutes alone.”

I stared at him and sighed. He had a point. “Yeah, I know, but I desperately need to learn to keep people out of my head. Everyone hears what I’m thinking all the time.”

“At least yer thoughts are not boring. Ya have a wild imagination, which is fun. The only downside to listening to yer thoughts is that ya hold yerself accountable for bloody everything under the sun. Yer angst isn’t very entertaining.”

“Can’t ya be serious for five minutes?”

“Of course, I can,” Zenos said. “I just choose not to be. Being serious is boring.”

Out of threats that I felt might sway him, I hung my head and groaned. I raised it quickly when I heard the Wu Shaman’s family talking to each other in rapid whispers. They paused when they saw I’d noticed them, and then began whispering even more fiercely to each other.

I didn’t know their language at all but I certainly knew when I was the topic of conversation. I snorted and rolled my eyes, before turning away from them.

They were as rude to me as they were to Mulan—completely and utterly rude. It made me wonder if Mulan had been adopted. She was many things but never rude without reason.

“Bloody hell, Aran, we don’t have time to mess with those unbelievers,” Zenos declared, swinging his chin toward them. “Use yer magick and scare the buggers away.”

I threw up my hands. “Scare them? What do ya want me to do?”

“Be a witch, Aran O’Malley. Ya claim to be one so let’s see what kind of magick ya wield.”

I glared at him. “I thought ya were a powerful mage.”

Zenos grunted in disgust. “Oh, I am one. But those people whispering about ya are not my problem. Why should I waste my powers on them? It’s not me they’re yammering about, but ya still should chase them away for both of us.”

“They’re not my problem, either. They’re Mulan’s problem.”

“One of them is a problem for all of ya.”