Page 5 of Adepts and Alchemists

“We’re wasting time,” Angelo said in a low, growling undertone. “Bring him or don’t, but we need his truck. I want to be out of here in the next ten minutes. I’m going to sort through the musty mess I can smell outside this door and get the keys. Explain the situation to him and then let’s get the hell on the road. I’m not risking Lydia’s body. She’s coming back to it, and you’re going to vacate. Understand me?”

I felt like a sports spectator with only a fraction of the knowledge I needed to understand what was going on. In fact, I was trying to figure out if I was drunk, but then I remembered I didn’t drink. So, no, this was really happening.

The pair were throwing verbal and ocular punches now. I wasn’t even sure what to make of it, except to feel defensive on Lydia’s behalf. If her boyfriend was being a jerk, I’d call him out for it...

When I had pants on.

“Um... guys...” I began cautiously, grateful when Angelo turned and waded further into my house. Something I’d never thought I’d be thankful for. I was half-convinced that I was having one of those dreams that a therapist would pay a fortune to dissect. “What’s going on?”

Maverick gave me a brief smirk before disappearing down the hall behind Angelo. He called over his shoulder, loud enough so I could hear it.

“Get him up to speed, Wanda. Angelo might be an ass, but he’s not wrong. We need to leave before they get the bright idea to guard the roads in and out of town. We’ve got an hour before this all goes to hell in a handbasket, mark my words.”

Wanda’s eyes narrowed, thankfully swiveling toward her cousin’s retreating back instead of admiring my body like she was at a strip show. I tried to keep in shape, and I liked women as much as the next guy, but no one expects the entire troupe of a well-cast soap opera to waltz into their bathroom.

“Gaining second sight, cousin mine?” Wanda shot back at Maverick.

“Nope. I’ve just worked with Tally long enough to get a feel for when the shit is about to seriously hit the fan. And I can tell you right now that the manure is flying. It’s in our best interest to duck while there’s time to avoid a collision.”

Wanda shrugged as though she couldn’t refute his logic. It made a convoluted amount of sense to me, even if the rest of the word salad hadn’t penetrated. If I was hearing things right, Poppy, Wanda, and their friends were in some kind of trouble. I wasn’t sure how that trouble was connected to me or what I had to do with it.

Wanda reached up and plucked a navy blue bathrobe that was hanging on a hook near the door and tossed it over her shoulder at me. I had to fumble the curtain to catch it. I was pretty sure I managed to flash half the women in the room as a result. Which made me root for the idea that this was all a dream. I had so many apologies to make if this was real.

“Get dressed,” Wanda said, motioning for the rest of the women to follow her out. “And meet us all in your garage. We need a ride out of the Hollow. Angelo or Maverick can explain what’s going on while the rest of us shelter in the bed of your truck.”

I shrugged into the bathrobe, trying hard not to look at any of the faces around me. I couldn’t help a glance up when I caught Lydia trailing out. Our eyes met. She stared brazenly at me, without any hint of what she thought of the show. She looked... weary. I wanted to tuck her into my bed and demand she sleep. I could probably bore her into a good night’s sleep, just by citing the cryptid facts I knew.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

I wasn’t sure why I was asking. Maybe it was dream logic, and I hoped something she said would make sense. But thesorrow on her face seemed too raw and real to be conjured just by my subconscious.

“We’re in danger,” she said simply. “And it’s my fault.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

Her lips twitched just once. It was the only animation on her face. She looked like a ghost. Frail and wispy, as though one good gust of wind would blow her out of the room.

“Save your judgments. I’m sure Angelo will enumerate the many ways this situation is entirely my fault.”

“Well, to hell with that guy,” I said, belting the bathrobe with clumsy fingers. “If he’s not going to treat you right, you shouldn’t care what he thinks. I can hit him if you want.”

Another spectral flicker of animation on her pretty face. “As amusing to watch as that might be, I’ll have to pass. Just don’t believe every word the incubus says, okay? He’s biased.”

Then Lydia turned on one heel and strode out of the bathroom, leaving me wet, shivering, and confused. And yeah, a little excited. She hadn’t looked away from me. That had to mean she was interested, right?

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.

But no one answered. Lydia was already gone.

Chapter Four

RJ

Somehow, Angelo Stedham looked more like a male model in my castoff sweats and grunge band t-shirt than he had in a three-piece Armani number.

It seemed radically unfair that the overlarge ensemble should suit him, given I had about three inches and fifty pounds of muscle on the guy. But he made it work, probably due to what he was claiming to be.

“An incubus?” I checked again. “I didn’t mishear that part in the bathroom? Or is that some kind of weird kinky name Lydia has for you?”