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9

WILL

I hope I’m not making a mistake. The thought haunts me as I drive our black truck into our neighborhood near the beach. Looking in the rearview mirror, I see Hank raise a brow, but I don’t explain a thing. He knows what I’m doing.

The neighborhood hasn’t changed much since we were kids. Every house is a classic beach house. White, light blue, the occasional green. Seashells and rope decorate the front porches along with swings. In all ways, it looks like the perfect place for two young boys to grow up.

Turning onto the next street, I spot my house at the end of the cul-de-sac. Like always, it stands there like a weed among roses. The roof is missing tiles. The paint is graying and faded. There’s a broken swing on the porch, and the wood that makes up the steps and porch is broken and unstable looking.

“Where are we going?” Callie asks in the seat next to me.

I glance at her. She’s freshly showered and wears a blouse with little dogs on it, which I find strangely amusing, and stretchy pants that hug the curves of her gorgeous ass. As much as I miss the coat, I’m not hating her outfit either.

Pulling up in front of my house, I force a grin. “Home sweet home.”

Her brows draw together, and she glances at the disaster of a house. “This is where you grew up?”

I nod, then indicate with my head a massive house that has the beach right behind it. “And that’s Hank’s house.”

Her eyes widen, and she holds her bag containing the book a little closer to her chest.

I push away the seed of embarrassment that swells in my chest. I’m not a kid anymore, wearing second-hand, faded clothes and shoes too small. I no longer pound everyone the second they make fun of me because their words hurt more than I want to admit. I’m a man. An adult. If Callie thinks less of me when she sees the way I grew up, she’s not the girl for me anyway.

Exiting the car, I open Callie’s door. Helping her out, I step back as the guys crowd out of the tiny back. We lock the truck and turn around, all standing on the sidewalk like we’re staring up at a haunted house, waiting to see who will approach first.

Taking a deep breath, I start up the sidewalk, my boots crunching on weeds as I do. Instinctually, I stop every so often to pull up the weeds. As a boy, the yard and house was my job. My mom was too busy drinking and sleeping with random men to notice any of it. And as she so often reminded me, I was the man of the house since the moment my dad left.

We stand on the porch, and I ignore the doorbell I know isn’t working and rap on the door.

Inside, my mom grumbles.

When she opens the door, my gaze runs over her. The last time I stopped by was nearly a month ago, but she looks the same. We both have the same dark hair and green eyes, but her features are feminine and pretty. Even with all the drinking, she looks young and beautiful. One of the many benefits of being a fire mage.

“Will?” She squints her eyes because she’s too proud to get glasses.

“Yeah, Mom, it’s me.”

Grinning, she pulls me into a hug. I hold back a cough. The scent of smoke and cigarettes cloaks her like perfume. “You should’ve told me you and your boys were stopping by! I’d have made snacks!”

By snacks, she means she would’ve picked up more cigarettes and a cake.

I gently disentangle myself from her hug. “It was sort of a last minute thing.”

She squeals as she sees Hank. “You get more handsome every time I see you!”

“Thanks, Mrs. Steelman,” Hank smiles, always the charmer with my mom.

She gives a shy smile. “And James, of course.”

“Hello, ma’am,” he greets.

Then, her gaze lands on Callie. “Holy hell, you look just like Regina Kranton.”

Callie’s jaw drops.

I clear my throat. “That’s what we kind of wanted to talk about.”

She nods, looking speechless, and opens the door for us.

Again, I push away my embarrassment as we walk inside. The living room is exactly the same as it was when I was a child. The same ratty couches. The same stained coffee table. All the windows are drawn closed, and a lit cigarette rests in the ashtray beside a bottle of vodka.

“Sit, sit,” my mom says, waving to the couch. Then she goes around, drawing back the dusty curtains and washing the room in light. All it does is expose the dust on every surface.

I sit down, with Callie at my side, feeling a wave of deja vu. How many times did I sit in this exact spot, waiting for my mom to wake up after drinking too much?

James sits on the loveseat beside my mom, and Hank sits on Callie’s other side. We wait for my mom to take up her cigarette again, then everyone looks at me.

“This is Regina’s daughter.”

Her jaw drops open, then snaps shut. “I…I mean, she looks exactly the same, but still, I thought she was dead.”

“You knew she had a daughter?” I ask, stunned.

“She was my best friend,” my mom says with a sad note in her voice, then continues more quietly. “Regina was an incredible person. Giving, kind, and she always knew how to make me laugh. When she died... it was like she took a piece of me with her.”

I see it in everyone’s faces. They know why I brought them here now.

“There’s more.” I know it’s going to piss my mom off, but I can’t help it. She needs to know to help us. “Phoebe was murdered. A fire caused by magic.”

Sparks erupt from my mom’s hands. “Are you fucking kidding me? They used fire to kill ?”

I nod, remembering my earliest lesson. My mother’s voice in my ears over and over again. Never use your magic to kill.

“It was the king, wasn’t it?” There’s fury in her voice.

“We think so,” James says, his gaze sliding between me and my mom.

She shakes her head. “This isn’t good. A lot of people are in danger, especially all of you.”

“Why?” Callie asks, and the question is almost torn from her lips.

My mother puts out her cigarette in the tray, and a gold light flashes in her eyes. “The world is divided, Callie. Witches, wizards, and mages: we all obey the royalty in our coven. Yes, it’s true that mages are held in high regard. Creatures that can use magic naturally, rather than learning spells, are rare, and any royal court wants them in their lands, but even mages consider the witch royalty our royalty. We are still witches, after all. But the king is a miserable, awful man. He imagines a world where the magical don’t hide their abilities, and humankind obeys us.”

I stiffen in surprise. Everyone knows the king dislikes humans and sees them as worthless, but I wasn’t aware that he wanted to stop hiding those with magic abilities. There’s no way humans could handle that. It’d create chaos and war.

My mother looks at me. “Having the Queen around kept him from becoming too cruel. Even though the king rules, and even though she was in hiding, the Queen’s power was enormous. He knew if he tried his plan, her power would be enough to stop him. But there’s nothing to stop him now.” Her gaze goes to Callie. “Except her.”

“Me?” Callie’s voice is small.

“The queen’s granddaughter is the true heir to the throne.”

“Whoa!” Hank says.

Of course, she is. How the hell didn’t we realize that?

“But I don’t want a throne,” Callie says.

“Well, you’d better start to want it,” my mom tells her. “Because it’s you or that monster on the throne, and even though I don’t know you, I choose you.”

My chest tightens. “But he could keep the throne?”

“If he kills her like he did her mother and her grandmother,” my mom finishes. “Which means you boys better keep her safe until the Summer Solstice.”

“Summer Solstice?” Callie’s voice grows squeakier by the second.

“If you’re alive then, you can claim the throne,” Mom explains. She’s very matter of fact about it all. This time of night, she’s probably had a few too many. She’s been drinking so long that it’s hard to tell how much she’s had. The air goes out of the room with her statement.

“No.” My blood races and heats up. “We can tell people who she is. We can get the protection of the coven. We can?—”

“How will you prove Callie is the heir?” she asks.

I swear my heart stops beating. “You recognized her.”

“But will that be enough for all the witches to back her when making a mistake will cost them their lives?” My mom opens her pack of cigarettes, then, extending a finger, she lights the tip. “No, the only ones who will back her now are the ones who know their time is coming to an end.”

“What do we do?” Desperation fills me. We have to keep her safe. How can we do that?

“You keep her alive, boy. You’re good at protecting people.” Her gaze holds mine.

I nod, and the thought turns over and over in my mind. We will protect her. No matter what.

“If she can make it until then, on the night of the Solstice, she can sit on the throne. It will tell everyone whether she’s the true heir.”

Then that’s what we have to do. Just make it until then.

“Thanks,” I mutter darkly. I spare a glance at my friends. Hank’s horror stricken face echoes the direction of my own thoughts, while James shifts uncomfortably. No doubt they’re both focused on the task ahead of us. Keeping someone the king wants dead alive is no easy task. More importantly, it’s a dangerous one.

My mom pours herself a glass of vodka and starts sipping it like soda. “I have some people I’ll call. People we trust, but be ready. If he’s seen her, he has to suspect who she is.”

“He hasn’t seen me,” Callie says, her voice confident.

She raises a brow. “Don’t just assume they don’t know.”

“Right now, they want us for something I did,” I tell her.

My mom’s entire face freezes. “Will, what did I tell you about getting mixed up with them?”

I feel like a small boy again. “To stay away from the witches.”

She slams her drink. “I’ll take care of this.”

“What?” My muscles tense. “No, I don’t need you to clean up my mess.”

“Do they want you dead?” she asks, and there’s a chill to her voice.

I hesitate. “Yes.”

Her mouth curls into an angry smile. “I’ve fucked up everything in my life except for you. And some very powerful people, including that fucking king himself, owe me. I’ll take care of it.”

Hank and James look between her and me, and I can only guess what they’re thinking. James probably doesn’t have a clue, but Hank knows enough of our history to be sure this is a problem. My mom is a tough woman, but she has a tendency to mess up everything she touches, including me, despite what she thinks. And calling in favors from all the powerful men she’s slept with seems like a bad idea.

Having her try to use her connections to stop this might get her hurt. Or worse.

“I don’t want you getting involved,” I say, trying to keep my tone from betraying my worry.

But the look she gives me tells me she’s made up her mind.

“Stay out of it,” I tell her, hoping to see some flicker of recognition that she realizes this is a bad idea. “I pissed off the king. I hurt his men. You’ll get hurt.”

“Okay.” The word is a lie.

“Mom...”

“Will.” Her gaze is sharp as she looks at me. “Take care of the girl.”

I’m about to argue further when I glance outside. A car creeps past the house. The shading on the windows is dark, but there’s nothing otherwise unusual about it. And yet, a chill rolls down my spine as I watch it disappear down the street.

You’re being paranoid , I tell myself, but the feeling lingers.

Standing, I look around. “We need to go now .”

James and Hank exchange a confused glance but stand, too.

Then, my mom pours herself another drink. “And for god’s sake, Hank, go say hi to your parents. They miss you.”

Hank grins. “Yes, Mrs. Steelman.”

She smiles at him. “Call me Lola, please. Always such a good boy.”

As we start to leave, my mom grabs my arm. The others linger by the door.

“Keep your head down until I can take care of this.”

I open my mouth to argue about her getting involved again, but she cuts me off. “And this girl. Are you protecting her because of who she is or because you care for her?”

I look away.

A second later, my mom hugs me. Her words are soft in my ear. “I know you think you’re doomed to be your father, and I know you blame yourself for your idiot ex, but you deserve better, Will. Better than me and better than a future alone.”

When she pulls back, I stare down at the tiny woman. All the near-death experiences, the fire, and Fran crying over her lost love must have rattled me. Because when I look at my mom, for the first time in my life, I just see her for who she is. A broken, lonely woman. A woman with an addiction and an abusive ex.

She wasn’t a good mom. I cried alone. I never went to the doctor when I was sick or had someone to kiss me when I was hurt. There was so much time spent cooking alone, shopping alone, doing homework alone, all with a snoring mom passed out next to me. But, she loved me. In the only way she could.

“Mom.” I love you. “Be careful.”

“You too.” Her smile is full of regrets as her eyes crinkle with the earliest signs of wrinkles. If she hadn’t been sucking down a large bottle every day for fifty years, even those wrinkles wouldn’t be there yet. Not on a mage.

We turn and leave, and I feel odd. Almost like a weight I’ve been carrying for a long time has been lifted. Have I actually forgiven my mom? Maybe.

A squeal of excitement makes all of us jump. Down the street, Hank’s parents are walking their golden lab. We hurry over to them as his mom hugs him, and his dad wraps his arms around both of them.

They chat for a while, laughing and discussing his sisters. One is pregnant, and another is struggling with her first child; a third is wrangling a baseball team worth of kids. His youngest sister is off at college. The second youngest just broke up with her boyfriend and could use a call from her big brother.

Hank grins all through it. The fear that seemed to hang over our group lifts as his parents discuss everyday life things, not King-death-heir things.

His mother, in her white country club outfit, compliments Callie’s hair and promises to take her to get her nails done. And Callie beams at her words.

I stand back from the group, feeling strange yet again. I’ve always envied Hank. Always wanted the life he had. But remembering the fierce look in my mother’s eyes when she said she’d take care of the witches, I realize I wouldn’t trade her for anything.

When Hank’s dad glances at me, he moves away from the others. “How are you doing, son?”

Fuck. Why do my eyes sting when he calls me that?

“I’ve been screwing up a lot lately.” Something about this man makes me honest. I never could hide anything from him.

He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Boy, you have a good heart. A few missteps can be good. They can teach you and help you grow.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say.

He smiles. “I’ve been keeping an eye out on your mom, like you asked.”

It takes me a second to clear my throat. “Thank you, sir,” I repeat.

I glance at the others and lower my voice. “Trouble is brewing with the witches.”

His kind smile widens. “We’re simple witches, Will. All the politics doesn’t matter much to a teacher and an accountant. And I don’t think we matter much to them.”

“Just be careful,” I say. “We’ve gotten mixed up in some stuff. We’re on the right side, but that could bring the king’s wrath down on us.”

His eyes widen. “You’re doing the right thing?” He laughs and shakes his head. “Hell, I don’t need to ask; you’d never drag Hank into trouble. Okay, I’ll bring in some friends to strengthen the wards around our house and our girls’ houses. We’ll watch ourselves.”

“Thank you,” I say.

The others end their conversations. There are a few more hugs, including the big hug from Hank’s mom to me, and then they disappear into their house.

“What now?” Callie asks.

We look at each other. I think of the strange car. One thing is for sure: we shouldn’t hang out here much longer.

“Let’s check out the book,” James suggests. “See if it can help us find anything else out.”

We argue for a few minutes about where to hide out and read the book. Hank’s mom comes back with sandwiches and sodas for all of us. Taking our snacks and trying not to feel like little kids when she pats our backs, we go to the beach near the back of their house and set up a little picnic by the sand.

At last, Callie pulls the book out of the bag she’d hidden it in and opens it with a slight green glow. For a while, we eat and stare at the pages that show their family line, including the one with Callie as a baby, although it doesn’t say her name.

The grimoire is long. A history of how their different family members ruled. Their success and failures.

At last, we come to pages that look freshly written.

“What Callie needs to know,” Callie reads from the top, then takes a deep breath.

Unable to help myself, I sweep her hair back from her face.

Those big blue eyes of hers lock onto mine.

“It’s going to be okay.” I say, feeling awkward reassuring another person.

“How do you know?” she asks.

The words come before I can stop them. “I just know,” then lean forward and capture her lips in a kiss before I can think about how cheesy I sound.

It starts out gentle, then deepens. Within seconds, I’m hard and aching to touch her. To take her in the sand.

“Get a room.” Hank sounds jealous as hell.

I’m disappointed when Callie breaks our kiss, her cheeks pink as she pulls back from me.

“What exactly happened between you two when you were gone?” Hank asks, still sounding like a jerk. Not that I blame him. “Because I thought you saw Will as an asshole.”

“And then she saw my big dick and changed her mind,” I say.

“Will!” Callie exclaims, her cheeks reddening further.

“You guys had sex?” James asks, looking shocked.

I grin. “Well--”

“No!” Callie says.

“But I did get a taste.” I can’t help myself.

“Will!” She slaps me in the chest. “Maybe I’m the one who ‘got a taste,’ you macho jackass.” Then, one hand goes over her mouth like she can’t believe what she just said.

I’m torn between immediate regret and amusement, because I did sound like an ass, but she just admitted she tasted me. “Sorry,” I mumble.

“That’s hardly fair.” Hank pouts a little. “Just because he’s constantly walking around with a hard-on doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t want to take things to the next level.”

“Just stop!” Callie is so flustered, it’s fucking cute. “It wasn’t like that!”

“She makes the best sounds,” I say, then have to bite down on a laugh as she smacks my chest again.

Her eyes suddenly narrow. “You want to rethink this whole conversation?”

Studying her, my nerves scream to life. Is she actually mad? Fuck, I think she is.

I instantly want to take back this entire conversation. “Yeah, sorry, I was just teasing.” I took it too far. Damn it.

Hank gets a sparkle of triumph in his eyes. “That was you teasing ? No wonder you suck at relationships!” He wasn’t wrong, but I couldn’t let him know that.

“Not all of us can be suave like you ,” I say, feeling mildly offended.

“Hank, suave, sure,” James mutters with laughter in his voice.

I’m about to actually try a better apology for bringing any of this up in front of Hank and James when a movement catches my eye.

“Guys,” I say. The seriousness of my voice instantly changes our moods.

They look up and spot the witches coming down the beach toward us.

“What do we do?” Callie asks, panic in her voice.

“Hide the book,” I say. “And all of you get out of here. Right now, they’re after me, not you.”

“Like hell!” Callie says.

“We can’t risk you getting hurt,” I say, and hope like hell they can see I’m right.

Standing, I don’t look back to make sure they listen. Instead, I start walking toward the witches. If they think that I’m going to die with my tail between my legs, they’re wrong.

If I’m already on their shit list, I might as well take out a bunch of motherfuckers in one fiery rage. At least it’ll get rid of a few of the people who might hurt Callie in the future. At the worst, I’ll die right along with them.

Either way, I’m not ready to go down without a fight.