Page 48 of Zomromcom

Getting a handle on Starla’s state of mind proved more difficult, because the telepath had focused her entire attention on Sabrina.

The women were deep in conversation, murmuring to each other while the witch gently rubbed circles on her wife’s back.

Which was, in fact, the exact same thing Max’s hand was currently doing between Edie’s own shoulder blades.

She had to wonder whether either Max or Sabrina had caught the irony yet. Whether they’d recognized how closely they mirrored each other in what they were doing and their reasons for doing it. Probably not.

Starla’s gaze flicked in Edie’s direction. When their eyes met, the telepath tipped her head toward her wife, then toward Max, and winked. Edie bit back an answering grin, whereupon the other woman resumed her conversation with Sabrina.

Before this cluster of unfortunateness ended, Edie intended to get Starla’s number and email address. Clearly, the two of them had a lot to discuss.

Lorraine pounced as soon as the ten minutes were up.

“So, Sabby…” Sitting back in the love seat, the troll swallowed her final bite of fig and chevre pizza. “Before we go into battle with you, what should we know that you haven’t told us?”

After glancing down to where Starla’s hand was squeezing her knee, the witch exhaled slowly. “I’m usually stronger than this, magically speaking, but I’m devoting a good chunk of my energy toward Starla’s health right now.”

“I’m not sure I fully understand how energy expenditure works when it comes to magic.” Gwen’s forehead crinkled. “What exactly do you mean?”

“Minor enchantments, like the one I cast over the cider, only require a bit of memorization and a limited burst of strength. Major spells, though…” Sabrina rolled her neck on her shoulders, stretching out any kinks there.

“They demand a far higher cost. To invoke that much power without draining your own resources, you need vast amounts of inherent talent, a near-eidetic memory, and a background of lengthy, intensive study of the Magical Arts.”

“Okay.” Gwen seemed fascinated. “But what if you don’t have the opportunity for that kind of study or you don’t have quite enough talent?”

“In other words, what if you’re a witch like me?

” Sabrina’s laugh held a bitter, sharp edge.

“If you’re insufficient in any area, those sorts of spells—serious healing spells, for example—can leave you essentially powerless for days or weeks.

And even for the most gifted practitioners imaginable, saving a life that’s already been assigned to the reapers exacts a greater and greater cost over time. ”

The witch didn’t look at her wife. She didn’t have to.

Lorraine’s voice had gentled. “What happens when you can’t pay that cost anymore? When you have nothing left to give?”

“You can give up. Let the reapers take their due. Or if you know the right rituals…” Sabrina shifted uneasily on the mattress. “You can offer another life in exchange.”

If that witch was thinking what Edie thought she was thinking, she could think again.

The witch, that was. Sabrina. Not Edie.

Anyway. Antecedents be damned, if that magical motherfucker tried to sacrifice Max, even for such a heartrending, understandable cause, Edie and her cleaver would intervene. Violently.

Kip inclined his head. “Blood magic.”

“Blood isn’t necessary. Only a human or Supernatural life.” Sabrina smiled wryly at that. “I would gladly relinquish mine, but Starla would never forgive me.”

Her eyes fell on Max. “Once I heard your full name and figured out who you were, I thought about offering your life instead. But as weak as I am right now, I wasn’t sure I could get the drop on you. Also, my stubborn wife vetoed that option.”

“I believe your story,” Starla told Max. “Even though I can’t read your mind at the moment.”

Discreetly, Edie slipped her cleaver back into her cross-body bag.

“My wife is far more trusting than I am. Until I see some definitive evidence, I’m not declaring you innocent of that woman’s murder.

” The suspicion on Sabrina’s face softened into resignation.

“I’ll say this much, though: After talking to Starla, I do trust you at my back in battle tomorrow.

Not because of your inherent goodness or because I know you’re not a conscienceless killer, but because of how you look at Edie. ”

Starla nodded, then murmured her gratitude when Sabrina readjusted the pillows supporting her upper body. “Like you’d tear apart the world with your bare hands if she got so much as a splinter.”

Did he truly look at her like that?

Edie twisted her head to study his expression. Met his fierce blue gaze.

Yeah. Yeah, he kinda did. Wow.

“Saving Edie will be your primary objective tomorrow. Saving yourself will be your secondary goal. The rest of us are tertiary concerns for you at best,” Sabrina told Max, ticking off his priorities on her fingers.

“But to keep Edie happy, you’ll do your best to save us too.

She’d mourn our deaths, and if you blithely let us fall when you could have prevented our grisly demises, she wouldn’t forgive you. ”

Still looking down at Edie, he pursed his lips and shook his head.

“It’s true.” His forefinger skimmed over a particularly ticklish spot near her ribs. “She’s a real pain in the ass. Sadly, however, she’s my pain in the ass.”

She opened her mouth to say something about the endless ass-based pain she’d been experiencing since the day they’d first met. Then she considered the possible anal sex implications, noted their rapt audience of Girl Explorers, and chose a different response.

“How dare you.” Smacking away his hand, she feigned outrage. “I’m a godsdamn delight .”

“It’s true!” Lorraine said. “I can tell already. We’re going to be bro besties!”

Riley frowned at the troll. “Earlier, you said I would be your bestie.”

“Bestie connections know no limits.” Lorraine flicked a wrist. “You can both be my new besties! Gwen too!”

“I’m not certain you entirely understand the word best ,” Riley told her. “Or bro .”

Sabrina ignored the side chatter and continued addressing Max. “You’ll help us tomorrow. I believe that, and I’m genuinely grateful for it.” Her chest rose and dropped on a deep, deep sigh. “My wife and I don’t have much power left. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

In her overstuffed armchair, Gwen was looking a little greenish again.

Not that the Fates had ever interceded on Edie’s behalf before, but she sent them a mental entreaty anyway. Please let us kill all the creatures before we have to actually battle them face-to-face. Otherwise, our merry band of zombie fighters is fucking toast .

No answer. Stupid unresponsive Fates.

“I’ve now told you all my relevant secrets.” Without rising from the mattress, the witch extended a hand toward Max. “Truce?”

When Edie kicked him in the leg, he grunted.

“Truce.” He shook Sabrina’s hand. “I’ll do my best to keep you and everyone else alive, witch.”

“For Edie’s sake.” Starla’s lips twitched. “No other reason.”

Yeah. The telepath was definitely onto his bullshit too. She and Edie really did need to talk at some point in the near future.

“Correct,” he said.

Thank goodness they’d only be battling zombies tomorrow instead of the zombies and one another. Knowing that everyone involved could be trusted was really—

Edie’s brows snapped together. “Wait a minute.”

“Oh gods.” Sabrina groaned. “What now?”

Starla didn’t seem surprised when Edie looked to her. “Question, Star. Are witches affected by their own spells?”

Because if not, if Sabrina’s enchantments didn’t influence her, she could have lied to Max and Edie and everyone else about everything she’d just told them. And they’d have no way to verify the truth before tomorrow.

Much like Max’s story.

The two of them had probably been twins in a past life. Annoying-as-fuck drama-queen twins who’d tried to eat each other in the womb.

Pressing her forefinger and thumb together, Starla mimed zipping her curved lips.

“Dammit, woman,” Max—who’d apparently worked out the implications too—complained, and Starla giggled.

“So sorry, vampire.” The witch’s voice was saccharine-sweet. “I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

He harrumph ed at the echo of his own words but didn’t bother arguing. At least, not after Edie pressed her breast against his side in a particularly persuasive way.

Gwen levered herself up from her chair and trudged toward the kitchen. As she passed by them, Edie smiled up at her. “Thank you again for your warning about my blackberry-sage oil.”

The oracle stopped, and her loose red braid swished along her back as she shook her head. “I appreciate your kindness, but we both know my prophesies were next to useless. They always are.”

“I’m not just being nice.” She truly wasn’t. “You saved me a bunch of time and money and hassle, and I’m genuinely grateful.”

Max shifted beside her. “As am I. Once spilled, glitter is a relentless adversary.”

“Then why use it?” Edie asked him, befuddled. “No one’s forcing you to.”

“Because my sculpted features deserve to be highlighted in every way possible.” His elegant nostrils flared as he sniffed. “Obviously.”

Of course. She should have known.

Gwen’s amused snort sounded a little damp.

“If I helped you, I’m glad. But I still owe everyone in this house an apology.

Our lives are at stake tomorrow. I can’t fight worth a damn.

And even though I’m a freaking oracle, my most helpful prophetic guidance tonight involved wayward craft supplies.

For all our sakes, I wish to goodness I were much more Enhanced than I am. ”

Edie’s heart ached for her. Before she could find the right words to comfort Gwen, though, Max spoke quietly.

“You made my life easier, little oracle.” There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm or glib charm in his words. Only truth and compassion. “In my centuries upon this Earth, very few others have done the same. That’s not such a small thing.”

“Thank you.” Gwen inclined her head in acknowledgment, green eyes shining a little too brightly, then offered them both a small but genuine-looking smile before beelining toward the snacks.

“Hey. Vamp bro.” Kip shuffled over to their couch on his knees. “You must have been worried about Sabby tampering with our food too, right? Did you squirrel away anything else? Because I’d gladly take leftovers off your…”

His face scrunched up, and he halted abruptly. Stretching an absurdly long leg out before him, he considered the wet spot on the knee of his jeans.

“Good news!” he called out, twisting around to address everyone in the room. “I solved the mystery of the missing cider! And Sabby, your new carpet is super great at hiding stains, as I now realize! Good call on the color!”

“It was Starla’s choice.” Sabrina’s head tilted. “And…congratulations?”

The troll beamed. “Thanks, bro!”

“No leftovers,” Max told him, then added a patently insincere “Apologies.”

“That’s disappointing. However…” Kip eyed the compact love seat where he and his cousin had been sitting, then the more expansive dimensions of the sofa directly in front of him. “Maxime. My good buddy.”

Max raised an eyebrow.

“Someone’s gonna have to sleep on the floor.” The troll’s sweeping gesture indicated the patch of sodden carpet. “And he who makes the wet spot takes the wet spot, so…”

Max’s tone conveyed polite confusion. “Is that your ill-chosen way of asking us to move off the couch? So you can sleep here tonight?”

Kip’s shoulders slumped. “It’s not happening, is it?”

“Nope.” Max leaned forward and gave him a hearty thump on the back, much like the one the troll had given him upon their introduction. So hearty, in fact, that Kip was basically flung face-first into the sofa. “Nice try, though.”

“I suppose I deserved that,” Kip wheezed when he got back to his knees. “But you’re still an enormous dick, bro. And I don’t mean the size of your penis, so please don’t start talking about that again, Edie-my-love. Please .”

“Thank you,” Max said placidly, tugging her closer to his side. Together, they watched Kip crawl off in search of more food. “I try.”