Page 16 of The Last Wish (Lost Legacy #1)

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

GIDEON

I feel like we’re at the highest point of a roller coaster, dangling over the edge, waiting to drop into complete chaos. Sheena’s nerves are obvious, and Callum’s tension gets worse with each step we take toward his childhood home.

My parents expect a lot from me, but they also make it clear their priority is my happiness. Instead of support, Cal learned at the most difficult time of his life that his parents’ favor was conditional and out of his control.

We warned Sheena that his parents are assholes, so she’s prepared, but if they make her or Callum uncomfortable, I’m going to lose my shit. Dimitri may be one of the leaders of this enclave, but I’m next in line, and I won’t put up with any disrespect.

Glancing around at the dark living space, I repress a shiver. I hate spending time here. It’s just so godsdamn Halloween. Dark fabrics, dark wallpaper, dark art. Seriously, turn a light on or something. I’m no interior designer, but what does it say about you when your coziest room screams ‘the crushing weight of existential dread?’

“Psst, Sheena,” I whisper as I walk past the familiar stone gargoyle and its large talons. When she looks back at me, I partially shift my hand to add claws and recreate the iconic scene from E.T. Callum rolls his eyes at me, but Sheena’s giggle is exactly what I was looking for. My girl is wound too tight.

“Good evening.”

“ Shitfuck .” I gasp as Mallory materializes out of the shadows like a fucking ghost.

She startles me so badly my claw jerks across the statue causing an ear-piercing scraping sound. We all wince. I mutter an apology, and Sheena’s face turns tomato red from holding in her laugh.

“Is there a problem with the art, Gideon?” Mallory’s tone is dry enough to send the whole state into a drought.

I immediately shake my head. “Oh no, ma’am. This little guy just reminded me of E.T. You know, the alien from that movie? ‘E.T., phone home.’” I mimic the voice pretty fucking well, but Cal’s mom doesn’t even crack a smile.

“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of viewing that film,” she says coolly.

Mallory is wearing all white today, like she’s heading to the dojo or a cult meeting. The look should make her come across as soft and welcoming, but she’s really just giving off icicle vibes. To top it off, her blonde hair is wound into such a tight bun we may all leave here with a headache because of it.

She steeples her fingers together like a praying mantis and has the nerve to stare at me like I’m a bug she wants to squash. “That gargoyle has been passed down through Dimitri’s family for the last seven hundred years. When demons first came to this realm, humans thought they could use stone figurines to ward their homes.”

She smiles, but it’s a creepy expression.

“They believed the gargoyles would come to life in the face of danger and prevent demons from infiltrating their house. They even carved their mouths open to better consume evil spirits.” Mallory points at the creepy thing’s gaping mouth with a crimson-painted nail.

“Superstitious nonsense, of course. The demons got in no matter what.” She turns and aims her smile directly at Sheena. “Hello dear, I’m Mallory.”

Sheena introduces herself quietly, while everyone else ignores the freaky, demonic history lesson.

Mallory doesn’t address Callum or Ciprian at all—as if two members of our group aren’t her actual sons. Instead, she leads us straight to the formal dining room. My mom gives me an exasperated look over my gargoyle stunt before linking her arm with Sheena and catching up to Mallory. They pull my mate away before I can intervene, seating Sheena between them at the round mahogany table.

Somehow I end up stuck between the feuding brothers, who appear to have struck a temporary truce based entirely on booze.

Like he’s trying to stress me out, Ciprian plops down next to his mom and chugs an entire glass of wine before starting on another. Without a word, he reaches across me and passes the bottle to Callum. I give the wine a longing look but choose to drink from my glass of water instead. Someone has to keep tonight on track.

Sheena seems torn between her own discomfort and glancing between the brothers with concern. The chatter is patchy and awkward. I try to break the tension with a joke, but no one laughs. My only saving grace comes from the plate of cheese cubes and salami on the table. I stuff my face to avoid speaking.

“Joshua and Dimitri should join us soon,” mom says as she sets her phone down and picks up a cracker. “Mallory, these appetizers are wonderful. I just love a charcuterie board.”

A little of Mallory’s icy demeanor begins to thaw until she notices the small mountain of crumbs gathering around me. I brush them on the floor as soon as she looks away.

“Thank you, Sarah.” Mallory rotates her desert fork to align with the plate. “I thought, since this was a family dinner of sorts, we could have something casual.”

I choke down a laugh. Nothing screams casual like cloth napkins, crystal goblets, and staff darting around the room. When Sheena’s water glass refills on its own, she lets out a concerned squawk.

“That’s just the mazzikin, dear.” Mallory’s explanation does nothing for Sheena, who’s now staring around the room with suspicion. “They’re a type of lesser demon. Invisible but incredibly useful for running a household.”

Mallory trills a laugh, like calling all her staff lesser to their invisible faces is not only acceptable, but also funny. Sheena nods politely, but her lips are pressed tightly together.

“How did you all meet?” Mallory asks, addressing Sheena directly.

“It was actually at a bar where I worked.”

Our girl smiles, but I can sense Callum’s mom charging up to deliver some cutting remark. “We met Sheena while working the case in Wyoming,” I say, jumping in. “She was the only thing worth finding in that place.”

“A human bar?” Mallory sounds scandalized.

“Well, yes.” Sheena laughs. “Until recently, I wasn’t aware there were any other kinds of bars.”

We’re saved from hearing Mallory’s take on that by footsteps in the hallway. Seconds later, my father and Dimitri join us, and I’m surprised to see Idris trailing along behind them.

What the fuck?

Callum and I exchange loaded looks, but we say nothing.

“Sorry for the extra mouth to feed, Mal.” My dad’s voice booms across the table as he claps the fae on the back. Callum’s mother grimaces. The only thing she hates more than surprises is that nickname, and it cracks me up every time my dad uses it.

“Idris was hoping to join us for dinner,” Dimitri says.

Mallory gives her husband a cutting look, then motions in the air with her finger for the mazzikin to hurry up. The scrape of a heavy wooden chair punctuates the silence as another place setting appears.

“Of course, Idris. You have a standing invitation. I’m glad you finally used it,” Mallory says.

The fae gives her a charming smile as he takes a seat in between Callum and Dimitri—directly across from Sheena.

“Gideon and Callum, I believe,” Idris murmurs as though he doesn’t know damn well what our names are. “I owe you both an apology for that awkward moment earlier. I must confess, when I woke up this morning, I never expected to encounter a full-blooded djinn. Much less one so beautiful and... undamaged.”

Wait, what? We get about one full second of complete silence, then all hell breaks loose as everyone starts talking at once.

“A djinn, alive? Impossible.”

“You met a djinn serving drinks in some reprehensible pub?”

“Oh, sweetheart. Are you alright?”

“Are you unbound?”

My chest throbs hard, but this panic isn’t mine. Ignoring the parents, I focus on Sheena. Her face has lost all color, and her pupils have shrunk to pinpricks. She looks between all the unfamiliar faces, her head swiveling back and forth like she isn’t sure where to start.

“Timeout,” I say. It’s a reasonable request, made at a reasonable volume, so of course no one listens. My hands clench into fists.

Callum shoots to his feet. “Shut up,” he bellows, drowning out the combined voices with sheer volume alone.

Since I’m usually the one to lose my temper, I’ve rarely heard him raise his voice. I must not be the only one surprised because everyone actually listens for once. We all stare up at Callum. His eyes are black and hard as granite, and in that moment, he looks every bit like a creature from the demon realm.

Ciprian interrupts the stunned silence by popping a cheese cube into his mouth with a pleased hum and casually reaching across the table to clink his empty wine glass against the full one in Sheena’s hand. “Congrats, friend. It seems like you’re going to get some answers.”

He grins drunkenly at her, unfazed by the tension in the room, but Sheena’s grip on her glass is so tight her fingers have gone bone white from the pressure.

I’m kind of surprised the glass hasn’t cracked.

The thought barely has time to bounce around in my head before the stem snaps off and tips over with a thud. Every eye at the table watches as the bowl lurches back and forth clumsily before finally reaching a resting place, tilted against the mahogany. A few drops of merlot trickle over the rim, dripping like blood onto the white tablecloth.

Sheena squares her shoulders and grips the remains of the cup in both hands. She takes a long look at it, then guzzles the contents in one go, setting it down with a thunk.

“What’s a djinn?” She demands, looking around the table and focusing specifically on Idris.

Dimitri scoffs at her. “You mean to act like you don’t know?”

Sheena meets his glare with one of her own, tilting her chin up. “I’m not acting,” she hisses. “Obviously, I know I’m different, but it’s not like I was raised in this world.”

Her green eyes flicker to violet, and from the subtle, collective inhale, I don’t think anyone at the table misses it.

“I discovered I wasn’t just another unwanted kid when masked men broke into my foster home and dragged me out of bed. They used my abilities to make the family forget me.”

Sheena glances at me then, and I hate that I’m not sitting next to her to support her.

“I escaped, and I’ve been running ever since. The only things I know about your world are the things I’ve learned since meeting Callum and Gideon,” Sheena says, sucking in a breath. “So, unless you want to call me a liar again, I’ll ask one more time: what is a djinn?”

Idris clears his throat.

“Djinn used to be an incredibly influential part of the supernatural community,” he says, before Dimitri can put his foot in his mouth again. “They were always rare, mind you, and until I saw you, I had believed them to be extinct.”

Callum falls back into his seat now that Sheena is finally getting answers. We all listen, horrified and spellbound as Idris explains how Sheena’s kind were hunted ruthlessly for decades. According to the fae, many djinn lives were lost just to keep their power out of the hands of warring factions.

“Much of the generational wealth within the supernatural community is because a djinn made it so.” Idris glances at the expensive furnishings around the room.

Dimitri and Mallory’s interest is immediately piqued, but before I can speak up, Cal beats me to it. “This should go without saying, but I’ll say it anyway.” Callum’s eyes lock onto his parents. “Sheena will not be the enclave’s retirement plan or its piggy bank.”

His words slice through the air like a knife. While Dimitri looks annoyed, Mallory is just appalled her son would bring up something as taboo as money in front of company.

“Of course not, kids,” dad says. “But given what we know of the djinn’s tragic past, I worry about Sheena’s safety.”

I know his concern is genuine at least, and I relax a little in my seat.

“There’s something else,” Sheena whispers, twisting her napkin between her fingers. “After my magic activates, I get sick. It drains me until I feel empty, and the last time it happened, it was worse than usual.”

I watch the fae closely as she speaks, but his emotions pass over his face too quickly for me to identify.

“You have no talisman,” Idris murmurs.

“What does that mean?” Callum demands, his black eyes digging holes in the side of the fae’s face.

“A talisman is similar to a double-edged sword in the sense that it both protects the djinn and puts them at risk.” Idris sips his wine, watching Sheena for her reaction. “It’s a necessary evil.”

“Like a lamp to be rubbed?” Ciprian snorts, but Idris ignores the interruption and continues his explanation.

“A talisman acts as a physical anchor for the djinn’s power. A djinn bound to a talisman can choose which wishes to grant and avoid the intense sickness and draining that comes from granting a wish whilst unbound.”

“What’s the other side of the sword?” Sheena asks, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Clever, little djinn,” Idris says, smiling at her. “If someone else were to gain possession of your talisman, they would control your wishes and your free will right along with it.”

He sounds cool and detached, but I’m not fooled. There’s a gleam in Idris’ eyes like he’s running a bunch of calculations and really liking the results. I don’t trust his intentions.

Sheena considers his words, then puts her napkin down. “What happens if I skip the whole talisman thing all together and never use my magic?”

Knowing this has been her plan all along, I’m not surprised, but Idris is visibly stunned.

“Besides the fact that someone could make an offhand comment in the grocery store and you could out the entire supernatural community?” Dimitri blusters.

“Yes, besides that.” Sheena keeps her focus on the fae.

“You would die,” Idris says simply.

Callum slams his fists down. The violent move jostles the table and forces Ciprian to steady his rocking wine glass.

“Is that a threat?” Callum bites the words out, but Idris only glances at him coldly.

“Hardly. It’s simply the truth: an unbound djinn is living on borrowed time.” He turns his shrewd eyes back on Sheena. “If some hunter or trafficker doesn’t take you out first, you’ll waste away before the year is out.”

The fae’s blue eyes glitter as he stares at my girl, and a growl bubbles up out of my chest. Now is not the time for me to lose control. I drag my twitching hands under the table.

“Face it, little djinn. Without a talisman—whether you use the magic or not—it will eventually consume you from the inside out.”

SHEENA

“How do we get a talisman?” I ask, refusing to be cowed by the fae across from me.

Idris is the kind of beautiful you might find in a museum full of weapons—cold, timeless, and deadly. His cheekbones are sharp enough to cut, his blue eyes are piercing in their intensity, and even his black eyebrows slice across his face, bold and perfectly matched.

Who has matching eyebrows, anyway?

I add it to the growing list of reasons he makes me uneasy.

“That I don’t know,” he admits. “Much like a witch’s grimoire, a talisman is typically a family heirloom. They’re passed down through generations.”

“Well, I’m sans family, so that’s a problem.” I grit the words out. His blasé attitude puts me on edge. “How do you even know all this stuff? Is it common knowledge?” I glance at the others, hoping anyone has a differing opinion to offer.

“Sweetie.” Sarah jumps in. “I’ve never met a djinn myself. They were incredibly rare, even in my childhood.”

“There was a djinn in my parents’ community. The way I understood it, a rival clan killed him to remove his powers from the equation,” Joshua says softly. He is gentle on my behalf, I realize, as he talks about the death of my kind.

“I knew a djinn.” Mallory surprises us all as she speaks up, a brittle quality to her voice that wasn’t there earlier. “Edith was powerful. You could feel it even when she was just a girl. Her family sent her to stay with us for protection. In exchange for keeping her safe, she agreed to join our community and help it thrive...”

Mallory’s eyes lose focus as she stares down at her clasped hands. An uncomfortable silence falls over the table as we wait for her to continue.

“What happened to her, mother?” Callum prods. She clenches her hands so tightly it looks painful.

“She snuck out to meet with a boy in the village. I knew the risk, of course, but I covered for her.” Mallory’s eyes dip closed, then flicker back open. “Edith didn’t make it home by dark, and I got scared. I went looking for her by myself because I didn’t want to get in trouble. When I found her... It was already too late. I could smell the blood from a mile away.” She fights back tears, choking up at the memory. “Someone had cut her throat and tossed her in a ditch outside town.”

I stare at her in shock and horror. A quick glance around the table shows I’m not the only one. Mallory brushes her face off and excuses herself to see about the main course. A suffocating heaviness settles over the table, but I honestly prefer the dark energy. At least it’s more authentic than the Casanells’ earlier condescension.

“I’ve heard similar stories,” Idris says. “The fear, greed, and violence of others forced the djinn into hiding decades ago. It was thought they were eventually hunted to extinction.” He gives me a pointed look. “Although, clearly that was incorrect.”

“We won’t let anything happen to you,” Gideon says, a serious look on his face.

I force a smile, my mind racing in a dozen different directions. I wanted answers, but I never expected anything like this.

The information we’ve learned tonight has sobered everyone but Ciprian, who is now well on his way to being sloppy drunk.

“It’s fine for you to play guard dog or cat or whatever the animal of the week is,” he quips, ignoring the dark looks thrown his way. “But if we can’t find this mystical, not-a-lamp talisman thing, it sounds like Sheena is a goner.”

Damn. That was blunt.

“Your bedside manner needs work, Ciprian.” I respond before either Gideon or Callum can lash out at him.

“Oh, babe, you know nothing about my bedside manner.” He winks at me as he reaches for the wine bottle again. Gideon tugs on the tablecloth, pulling it out of his reach. It’s a practiced move that makes Joshua hide a smile, but it’s Dimitri’s expression that makes me want to laugh out loud. He’s staring at his youngest son like he was just forced to swallow something rancid.

“Ciprian,” Dimitri barks. “That’s hardly appropriate conversation for mixed company at the dinner table.”

“Oh loosen up, dad.” Ciprian laughs. “Mom just talked about following a blood trail to her friend’s body after helping her sneak out to get some. I think a little double entendre lightens the mood. After all, we’re not at Sheena’s funeral.” He waggles his eyebrows at me. “Yet.”

I let out an unladylike snort. “I’m going to make sure you’re nowhere near my eulogy,” I tease. “God knows what you would say.”

“First, you won’t get a say because you’ll be dead. Second, the gods may not know what I would say, but I’m sure you’ve got an idea.” Ciprian smirks.

Joshua and Dimitri exchange concerned looks.

“Relax,” Ciprian says, rolling his eyes. “I already told Sarah—I’m not after the genie. She’s the meat in Cal and Gideon’s fuck sandwich. I have no interest in being the lettuce everyone picks off.”

Dimitri chokes on his drink, although I don’t know why he’s shocked. Has he met his son? When Joshua pounds on his friend’s back, an amused twinkle in his eye, Sarah and I have to stifle our laughter.

I want to see how the fae is reacting to this nonsense, but I don’t want him to catch me looking at him. I can still feel his gaze drilling into my skull.

When Mallory comes back, her... staff are with her. Now that I know they exist, I watch for the subtle flickering of the air as the not-so-subtle platters of steaming dishes float in behind her. My broken goblet disappears, only to be replaced with a sturdy, crystal glass typically used for sipping whiskey. It appears I’m no longer trusted with long stem glasses. Probably the right call if I’m being honest.

Joshua clears his throat pointedly.

“Let’s table this conversation until after dinner.” He glances around at the floating food, and we all get the message. No talking about my super secret origins while someone could overhear.

The problem now is no one knows what else to talk about.

“Idris, how are you adjusting to life at the enclave?” Joshua tosses the ball back into the fae’s court.

“I’m settling in nicely,” Idris says, picking up the conversation gracefully. “Both Sarah and Mallory have been kind enough to ensure a seamless transition.”

He nods to the older women with a glittering smile. Both of them seem flustered by his attention, and I’m relieved I’m not the only one who finds him unnerving. Every time he looks at me, I want to run away.

I need to get Callum or Gideon alone so I can ask them about fae powers. They haven’t mentioned mind reading, but I get the feeling this Idris guy sees way too much. There’s a quiet stillness to the way he watches. It’s like he’s peeling back everyone’s layers and expecting to find a rotten core.

“Has the scum we caught in the barn said anything useful?” Callum asks, shifting the conversation away from the fae. Idris actually seems relieved by the change of subject.

“Unfortunately, no.” Joshua wipes his mouth with a fancy napkin. “He was a grunt like you suspected. He provided some locations, but there’s been no movement at any of them so far.”

“How do you know? You didn’t call us,” Gideon grumbles.

“Simmer down, son. We put some cameras up. It wasn’t worth sending you two without confirmed sightings.”

“I’m sure they’re simply lying low after finding the barn burned down with their captives gone and henchmen dead,” Dimitri says. He levels a stern look at Callum like it’s somehow his fault. “They’ll have to surface at some point. When they do, we’ll be ready for them.”

“Idris, have there been any rumors in the fae community about abductions or unexplained disappearances?” Callum’s tone is almost neutral as he addresses the fae. But I can tell from the small twitch of Idris’ lips, he’s picking up on the frustration bleeding through.

“The short answer is no. The long answer is more complicated,” he admits.

“It always is,” Gideon mutters under his breath.

Idris pretends not to hear him.

“Unfortunately, fae are born and raised to be suspicious. After centuries of war and bloodshed, the folk are hesitant to trust any but those in their inner circle.” Idris nods toward Callum and Gideon’s parents. “I joined this enclave to prove there is strength when we stand together. I want my people to find a better way of life, but they can’t do that unless I lead by example.”

Callum gives him a look of begrudging respect, and I find myself pleasantly surprised as well. Maybe there’s more to this guy than half-truths and calculated looks. Either that or we’re gobbling up a load of bullshit.

Conversation trails off as we eat, and I tuck into the meal despite my churning stomach. The rhythmic clinking of forks and knives against the dishes relaxes me. The food is so delicious I don’t even have to pretend. After I polish off a slab of strawberry cheesecake, Mallory calls for coffee. Once it’s delivered, the parents wait a few minutes before reaching some unspoken agreement that it’s safe to talk again.

“Given the information that’s come to light, it would be safer for all three of you to move back home.” Joshua’s voice is firm. He crosses his arms over his chest, braced for pushback.

“Dad, we’re grown,” Gideon argues, furrowing his brow.

“A grown man doesn’t let pride stop him from keeping someone they care about safe, son,” Sarah counters. Her tone is softer than her husband’s, but her words hit a lot harder for both men. Neither Callum nor Gideon will meet her eyes now.

“Thank you for offering me your hospitality,” I say, genuinely touched that their offer includes me. I don’t want to be pushed to make a decision right away, though. “We’ll give you an answer after we’ve had time to discuss it.”

Joshua and Sarah nod reluctantly.

“Mallory, did your friend have a talisman?” Dimitri reintroduces the topic gingerly, looking at his wife with a tenderness that surprises me. Perhaps he’s a better partner than father. Despite his care, Callum’s mother is clearly startled by the question.

“If she did, we never discussed it,” Mallory says, eyes darting up to meet her husband’s. “Given the importance, I suspect she kept it a secret. Even from me.”

“If all the djinn are dead or in hiding, how are we going to get one of these things for Sheena?” Gideon snaps. He shifts around in his chair restlessly, the wood groaning under his weight.

“Can’t we just pick something and make it her talisman?” Callum asks. He unclips and tosses his watch on the table. It lands with a muted thunk. “These things have to have an origin. You can’t tell me they just popped into existence one day.”

“You’re probably right, but locating someone who knows more and is willing to share that knowledge with you is its own challenge,” Idris says. His face twists slightly. “You could always ask the witches.”

Apparently, he just stepped on a landmine because everyone freaks out and starts talking over each other.

It’s so chaotic I’m tempted to cover my ears. I’m actually relieved when Idris holds his hands up in the universal supplicatory gesture people use when they’ve just offended almost everyone in their immediate vicinity.

“We can’t trust witches,” Joshua says. “They’re more likely to drain Sheena’s life force than help her.”

“I didn’t say it was a good idea,” Idris admits.

“I’m scared to even ask this, but what’s the deal with the witches?” I address Sarah, hoping she’ll be the voice of reason. The last thing I want to do is stir them all up again, but this is my life and death we’re talking about.

“Well dear, every supernatural can forge their own path,” Sarah begins. “I mean that to say no species is inherently good or bad?—”

Ciprian interrupts by spewing some sort of drunken chortle-huff noise. It’s guttural and gross, and it makes me regret not cutting him off sooner.

“What Sarah is so delicately trying to avoid saying is witches are the fucking worst, but it’s because they want to be.” Ciprian finishes that eloquent statement with a hiccup that makes his mother’s eye twitch.

“It’s more complex than that,” Idris says. He picks up the pitcher of creamer in one hand and the canister of sugar in the other and holds both containers at equal heights. “Evolution and altruism walk hand in hand in most modern cultures. The need for personal survival balances with the need to cherish, protect, and sacrifice for those you love.”

I nod, following along with his explanation while avoiding eye contact.

“As Sarah and... Ciprian were saying... witches don’t pursue that balance. They never have. Many covens are notorious for their capricious motives, pursuing chaos to the exclusion of almost everything else, including their own safety.”

Idris drops both the sugar and creamer without warning, letting the crystallized cubes scatter across the tabletop. I brace myself for the liquid to splatter too, but an icy blue light catches the pitcher just before it makes contact, suspending it in the air. I watch it sway gently back and forth. One lone drop of cream drips down the side, its movement jerky and unpredictable, until it falls, sinking into the fabric of the tablecloth.

I stare at the magic, mesmerized, as Idris lowers the container to the table without touching it. He takes a casual sip of his coffee, and I blink, feeling heat rush to my cheeks.

“If they’re just running around worshipping chaos all the time, wouldn’t there be more witch mayhem on the evening news?” I ask, pointing to the scattered sugar cubes.

“Most people just assume they’re eccentric or rationalize away anything overly weird,” Callum says, shrugging.

“And the only rule their coven leaders force them to follow is the secrecy covenant,” Dimitri adds. His dark eyes are tracking the way his oldest son looks at me, and I don’t like the attention.

“Are there any trusted elders we could reach out to overseas?” Sarah diverts my attention from Dimitri’s plotting with her question. “I doubt we want to involve any of the other North American enclaves. The temptation would be too close.” She gives me an apologetic look, and I force a smile.

“That’s not a bad idea.” Joshua rubs his chin. “I’ll think about it. Perhaps Magnus in Scotland.”

“What about the academy?” Gideon asks, pressing his hand over his heart as he looks at me. The motion makes me realize I’m feeling the distance between us too.

“I don’t trust any of the professors,” Callum mutters.

“We wouldn’t have to tell them what’s going on, though.” Gideon scrunches up his nose as he thinks about his alma mater. “Just come up with some excuse to case the library.”

“That might actually work,” Idris says. He seems impressed by Gideon’s suggestion, but in a way that’s almost completely patronizing. “It is the most comprehensive supernatural archive on this continent.”

“I can’t help with that. You know I’m banned from the campus for life,” Ciprian says, grinning at me as if he’s daring me to ask him why. I don’t give him the satisfaction.

“Callum and I will go,” Gideon says decisively. He stands then, his chair scraping against the floor with the sudden movement. “Now, we’re going to bed. I can’t listen to another word from any of you. You’re all giving me a headache.”

Gideon circles the table, clapping his father on the back and kissing his mother on the cheek.

“Mallory, the food was great.” Gideon nods at our host, ignoring Ciprian, Dimitri, and Idris completely.

He slips his hand in mine and pulls me up from my seat. I barely have two seconds to thank the Casanells for the dinner, before my massive shifter half carries, half drags me from the room, Callum trailing after us.

The fae watches us leave with obvious interest. “Good night, little djinn.” He purrs the nickname for the third time.

Gideon squeezes my hand a little tighter in response.