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11

JAMES

Each time I come to one of the warding runes around Callie's house, I raise my hands and send my power into it. The magic sings as it joins Will and Hank's in the ward. None of us are great at this kind of magic on our own, but between the three of us, we can create a basic ward. Now we have to hope that Hank's dad will come through and someone with more experience comes to strengthen them for us.

"Ready to go back inside?" Hank comes into view for the first time since I started circling the house.

I nod. "I think this is the best we'll manage for now." My guilt is written on my face.

"We can't be good at all kinds of magic," he points out. "You can't feel too bad about it."

I flash him a wry smile. He's only saying that because he doesn't know the truth. I have much less magical blood than either of my two friends. There are people who would use that information against us all if it came into the open. I've never been too sure what to do about that.

"Where's Will?" I ask, hoping we don't have to dwell on the magic for long.

"Sleeping. I sent him inside when I found him wandering around with a dazed expression on his face." Hank chuckles to himself. "I don't blame him, to be honest. It's been that kind of day for all of us."

"We can't all sleep at once," I point out.

Hank gives me a level stare. "You should, though. You've been awake the longest."

“Hmm." I don't mention that I don't think I'll be able to. If I close my eyes, the nightmares that come after we've fought a fire will set in. I'm normally fairly good at separating off the part of myself that has to deal with life-endangering situations like that, but when the darkness falls, and I'm left on my own, all I dream about are flames and screams.

And this time, they'll belong to Callie's grandmother. I'm not sure if that fact, or that she's the dowager, is worse in this situation. Both have awful consequences that we haven't even begun to properly uncover.

"There you are," Callie says, relaxing visibly at the sight of Hank and me coming through her front door.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, stepping forward as if he wants to rush to comfort her.

I eye my friend. It's been a long time since I've seen him acting this way about a woman. Will, too, for that matter. He hides it well under a womanizing exterior, but we all know that's not the real him. Callie's noticed, too, if earlier is anything to go by.

"It's fine. I just got out of the shower and couldn't find you." Wet hair falls around her face, and she's wrapped herself up in a huge terry robe.

She's adorable. Her vulnerability wraps around her like a shield. I don’t want anything to happen to her.

"Do you want something to drink?" I ask. "I can make you some coffee." I wasn't sure that was the best idea when she hasn't slept yet, but after the day she's had, coffee before bed is the least of her problems.

To my relief, she shakes her head. "I need something a little stronger." She glances at a clock on the wall and grimaces. "I never thought I'd be drinking before eight am," she grumbles.

Hank chuckles. "It's still five o'clock somewhere," he quips.

I shake my head in amusement, a small smile curling up the side of my lips. "Tell me where the glasses are, and I'll go get them for you.”

"It's okay. I'll get them. But you can come with me if you want?" she suggests, a hesitant edge to her voice. "Both of you," she adds when she realizes Hank's just standing there.

"I'd like that," I whisper, longing to put an arm around her and pull her to me.

Hank shoots me a look that can only mean one thing: he knows about my nightmares, and that I could try and escape them with booze. He's wrong about that, but only because I tried boozing to cope with a different trauma when I was younger. I'm well aware that self-medicating doesn't work for me.

"Me too," he says after a moment.

Callie smiles at the two of us, then turns and pads down the hall to a room we haven't been in before.

An empty hearth sits at the far end of the room until Hank spies it and gives a flick of his wrist. Warm, comforting flames lick up the sides. I wish I could have done it myself, but I’m not strong enough to start a fire from thin air. I’d stand a chance if there was kindling in the grate, but this time, there wasn’t. I’m not sure how much Hank and Will have figured out about my weaker powers. They’re smart guys, so they may have realized I’m only half witch instead of just being weaker. But they cover for me anyway, doing things like lighting grates when I can’t. I appreciate it, even if there’s a slight hint of jealousy over not being able to do it myself.

Callie stares at it, the orange glow reflecting in her eyes. "How can something so beautiful be so destructive?" she whispers.

"I always wondered that," I admit. "No matter where I see fire, it always has those two sides."

"It depends on who is controlling it," Hank adds.

"Or if it can be controlled at all." I think of Callie's grandmother. It may have had all the marks of being a magical fire, but that didn't mean that it was controllable. I've seen several fires started by magic turn into something far more deadly as time went by.

She pulls herself away from the flames and moves over to an old wooden cabinet. It looks like something I'd expect in a period drama, and her pulling a bottle of brandy and three glasses from it only adds to the aesthetic. The room puts me in a specific mood like I should pull out a cheroot and wear a smoking jacket. It’s whimsical. I love it.

She pours the alcohol and hands us each one of the glasses before taking the final one and curling up in a huge armchair. In that moment, she reminds me so much of the cat she sometimes becomes. Which reminds me, there's something I've been meaning to ask.

"How did you stop yourself from shifting into the cat earlier?" I ask, taking a seat on one of the other chairs.

Hank follows suit but doesn't say anything, no doubt more interested in Callie's answer than in asking his questions.

"I'm not sure I did," she admits. Her eyes blink rapidly as she considers what happened.

"You must have," Hank responds. "Back at the beach, you said you held it off."

"Huh. I suppose I did." Her eyebrows knit together. "But that doesn't make any sense."

"Why not? You're from a powerful line of witches," I point out.

"But I can't do magic." Her wide-eyed stare lances through my heart. I want to make things easier for her, but I know there's only so much we can do to help. Becoming connected with her magic is something only she can do.

"I'm not so sure that's true," Hank says after a moment. "You said you held off the cat taking over, and you managed to call Will's mom too."

"I... I just read from the grimoire." She glances down at the floor. There's something timid about the way she's saying things, but I can tell she hasn't lost any of her inner fire. It's just been made into an ember, dampened by the events of the day but ready to turn into a blaze under the right circumstances.

Now, all we have to do is work out the best way to light it.

"It wouldn't have worked if you didn't have magic," Hank assures her.

Callie sighs loudly. "Can we talk about something else? I understand that I have magic, but without access to it, that's kind of useless. Once we've worked out how to unlock it, then we can talk about the best way to use it."

Ah, there's the Callie I know.

"Of course," I say softly. "What do you want to talk about instead?" I take a sip of my brandy, enjoying the rich flavor. This is some good stuff. I’m honored she got it out for us.

"Theresa's mates," she whispers, almost low enough that I'm not sure we're meant to hear.

I exchange a glance with Hank, but he's no help. The expression on his face is similar to how I'm feeling. A dash of confusion and a whole lot of hope. I fight a snort and manage to squash it down.

"What about them?" he asks slowly.

I cross my fingers, unsure of exactly what I want her to say, but sure that we're going to have this conversation whether we want to or not.

"How has she got three?" Her eyes gleam as she looks at us.

"She chose to," Hank says. "She fell in love with three men, and they felt the same about her. Enough that all of them want to live together and become a unit."

"Is it...is it common? In this society?" She glances between us, and I can't help but notice the look in her eyes.

She wants us to say yes, I'm sure of it.

"It isn't common, but it also isn't uncommon," I say. "I've met a lot of witches in my time, and some of them have been in relationships with more than one other. The mating, it's like our version of marriage but so much stronger. It's not impossible to break a mating bond once it's been formed, but I've never heard of anyone doing it."

"It's not like in books?" she asks, unfurling a little bit and leaning back in her chair. "Where it's one mate, and it's a fate thing?"

Hank shakes his head. "Fate's just a myth as far as love is concerned. Now prophecies, on the other hand?—"

I shoot him a look, and he stops talking, seeming to realize what he's done. She's already freaked out about all of this. We don't want to add prophecies into the mix just yet.

"Hypothetically, I could choose to have three mates, just like Theresa?" she asks.

My chuckle escapes before I even know it's coming. "You know, it's not very subtle to be asking us this."

"I'm not trying to be subtle." She downs her brandy and pours herself another glass. "I'm trying to make sense of what I'm feeling."

"About us?" Hank's voice is a lot calmer than mine would be in his place. I'm not sure how he does it. Perhaps a childhood full of love is all that's needed to make someone level-headed even when they're faced with questions like this. I just want to rip her clothes off.

A blush rises to Callie's cheeks, but she chases it away again with her brandy.

We should make sure she doesn't get drunk, but it means taking the bottle away from her before she's ready. She's basically learned that she's a witch princess today; it's a pretty major burden to bear. She’s entitled to a few drinks.

"How do you know if you're supposed to have three mates?" she asks, sitting up straighter now. She's growing bold thanks to the brandy, but I suppose it doesn't matter so long as we answer her questions and don't take advantage of her.

"I don't know," I admit. "It's not something I've ever given much thought to." I long ago resigned myself to never finding anyone. That only changed when this fireball walked into our lives and turned them upside down.

"Hank?" she prods, her words starting to slur a little.

"I haven’t thought about it either." He shares a look with me, nodding almost imperceptibly at her. Yes, I’ve noticed she’s getting drunk.

Her laughter comes out as a bark. I huff in amusement at my own description. That's almost as cute as the dog blouse she wore earlier.

"Are you trying to tell me that neither of you has thought about having three beautiful women in your bed?" She waves her arm, and the expensive brandy almost sloshes out of the glass.

"Who says that hasn't happened before?" I quip.

Hank throws me a quizzical expression.

I puff out my chest. "What? Don't think I'm the type?"

"Definitely not," he agrees. "I think you barely know what to do with one woman; three would give you a headache and make you run right back to England."

"Trust me, no amount of girl trouble will get me back there," I mutter darkly. Being in England would be counterproductive to my plan of outrunning my past.

"Oi! You two. We were talking about me," Callie insists.

"We weren't, actually." Hank sets his still full brandy glass down on the coffee table. Callie eyes it but says nothing. "You asked us if we'd thought about it, and we were answering you."

She narrows her eyes and points her finger at the two of us. "It was a thinly veiled ruse to get you to tell me if you'd consider being one of the three guys in a relationship like that," she says, swaying slightly from side to side.

Uh-oh. I think she's had enough to drink.

"That depends on the woman," Hank says firmly.

"That's not a fun answer!" she protests. "Would you cross swords with one of the other men, I wonder?" She eyes him up and down.

I stifle a laugh. A part of me wonders if I should have more brandy in order to deal with this, but it's not a good idea. I wish I hadn't drunk any of it at all, but it's too late for that.

"You would, wouldn't you?" she asks me.

I shrug. "Been there, tried that. It's not my thing," I admit.

Her mouth falls open.

"If Will was awake, he'd tell you to close your mouth, or he'd fill it," I quip.

She snaps her mouth closed but continues to stare at me. "When did you try it?" she asks.

"Boarding school, the same as most of the guys there. It wasn't a big deal."

"And you didn't like it?" She leans forward, eager to hear what I have to say. Is this how girls feel when they get asked about their girl on girl experiences at sleepovers.

"There's nothing wrong with it; it's just not my thing."

"You went to boarding school?" Hank asks.

Oops. I don't think I've ever mentioned that before.

"Yes. It's fairly common for people with parents like mine." I need to stop talking, or I'm going to reveal things I don't want him to know.

"You're full of surprises." I can tell he wants to push for more information, but he'll respect my boundaries.

The time is coming when I'm going to have to come clean about my past and my former association with people who would consider us their enemies. But it isn't now. It can wait until Will's here, too, and Callie has had less to drink.

“I want to..." Her words fall away, pulling both of our attention back to her.

I rise to my feet. "I think it's time to get you to bed," I say.

"I can stay up."

"No, Callie, you can't," Hank says. "You've been awake too long. But you don't have to worry. The house is warded, and we'll be awake guarding the place."

"Okay." She sways again.

A sappy smile spreads across my face. This woman is getting to me unlike anyone ever has.

“Come on, let's get you upstairs." I try to put my shoulder under her arms, but she's either more exhausted or drunker than I thought, as it doesn't work.

Resorting to a tactic I know won't fail, I scoop Callie up into my arms and carry her from the room. I don't say anything to Hank, though I'm sure he'll have questions for me once I get back. That hardly matters. He'll respect my wishes when I tell him I want to wait until everyone is around.

I climb the stairs, being careful not to bang Callie's head against the walls as I go.

Her bedroom is sparser than I expect it to be, with nothing more than a few scattered personal items and the furniture. I guess it's because she moved around a lot before coming to Blackwater. Maybe that'll change now she has some roots here. So long as we don't get ourselves killed before she can.

"Do you want me to get you anything?" I ask.

"Water?" she suggests sleepily.

I chuckle. It must be bad if she's asking for it even before sleep.

"I'll get some in a moment." I lay her down in the bed and pull the covers up to her chin.

There's a glass on her nightstand and a water bottle next to it.

Perfect, I don't have to go searching around her house for one. The water sloshes into the glass, rousing her from her sleep for a moment.

"It's okay, we've got you. Sleep now." On impulse, I lean over and kiss her forehead.

"You'd be one of them, right James?" she murmurs.

I guess she's talking about one of three mates, but I'm not sure. It doesn't matter though. I’ll tell her the truth. This woman has a hold on me that I can't explain.

"For you, I'll be anything," I promise, though I don't think she hears me as she snores seconds later.

I shake my head in bemusement and stare down at her captivating face.

She's changed everything. And not just for the witches. Things will never be the same for me ever again.