Reagan’s shining eyes watched me from beside the kitchen entrance and her finger made circles in the air. “I know all about it.”
I wiped my face. “Know all about what?”
“Your trip into the cemetery to spy on a group of witches. The Ladies of the Light, right? They’re harmless. I never chase them out.”
I thought about picking up my coffee cup again, but while I was decidedly less jumpy than when I’d first arrived in New Orleans—even than a couple days ago—I clearly wasn’t ready to drink a hot beverage within the confines of a kitchen with Reagan. I grabbed some water instead.
“That wasn’t a secret,” I said, then stopped myself. “Should that have been a secret?”
Her expression fell and she stopped circling the air with her finger. “You are much too honest, do you know that? No wonder your mother was able to keep you in line.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the archway. “And yes, that should’ve been a secret. Leaving the protection of the ward for a wide-open, dark, deserted cemetery was an incredibly stupid thing to do. It was basically an attacker’s wet dream.”
I eyed the coffee again. Water wasn’t doing the trick. “Smokey said as much, but…” I shrugged. “Their magic called to me.”
“Hey”—she held up her hands—“I live in a glass house. I’m not trying to throw stones. Tonight I’ll be doing something fairly stupid myself. I’m not judging. Did you get your rocks off?”
I sidled over to my cup of coffee and filled it back up. There were some things I just couldn’t do without. And unlike Reagan, whiskey wasn’t one of them.
“You’re right. You and Darius…and Emery. I’ve been trying to acclimate to the mages’ way of doing things,” I said after taking a much-needed sip, “but it’s closed me off. When I came across the witches doing magic, it felt so natural. I remembered how to find balance.”
“Ordinarily, I’d ask you not to tell him because it would inflate his already massive ego, but after the other night, I think we’re good on that score. Hurry up. Let’s get to burning some shit. Maybe your new balance will make you less terrible at it.”
It didn’t. While my reinstated balance made it easier for me to put together spells—including setting fire to my poor, defenseless practice dummy and creating mini explosions—Reagan’s ability to control fire was still beyond me. Probably always would be.
“Are you an elemental?” I asked at one point, panting with my hands braced on my knees. “They can do fire, right? Because the weather one can do weather. I’d imagine there’s a fire one.”
“From what I’ve heard, some of them can do fire. One of them really well, I think. I don’t know any more than that.”
“So you’re not an elemental?”
“No.”
“Would you tell me if you were?”
“Probably not, since I’d probably be a rogue elemental on the run from my family’s crushing pressure to become what they want me to be.”
I blinked and shook my head. “Uh-huh. So what are you?”
“An asshole, remember? Come on, one more spell, and then I got to go.”
An hour later, we were both in the kitchen, me tired but not drained—I thought that was an improvement—and her bright as a spring day.
“What is it you’re doing again?” I asked between gulps of water.
“I’m going to take a contract with the Magical Law Enforcement office.” She bent to wipe off the thighs of her leather pants before twisting so she could see the backs. “These are fine, aren’t they? Not too dirty?”
A few scuffs and a couple smudges of dirt marred the surface. “They’re a little dirty.”
“But, like…too dirty?”
I paused. “I don’t know what your definition of too dirty is.”
“Too dirty to wear in public to a job where I want to show how awesome I am?”
“Oh.” I chewed my lip, wondering how to be tactful. “I mean…” I cocked my head. “They’re a bit dirty.”
“A bit.” She squinted at me. “I hear what you’re saying.” She stalked out of the room, only to return wearing the same dirty leather pants. She clipped her fanny pack onto her hips. “Okay. Ready for action.”
A wave of anxiety washed over me and my body tingled, my temperamental third eye telling me of danger ahead.
“Wait…” I put down my water and stepped forward. The danger didn’t feel like mine. It…strangely felt like hers. “Aren’t you supposed to lie low…or something?”
She waved the thought away. “Not for this. This’ll be fine.”
Butterflies filled my stomach and I stepped forward again, not sure what this feeling was. “Um…”
She cupped her breasts. “I should get a sports bra. I’ll probably need to run.” She left the room again.
Grateful for the break from her keen gaze, I closed my eyes and opened up, letting my intuition feelers guide me. A strong sense that something was coming hit me first, tickling my premonition centers, as vague as ever. I was nothing like my mother when it came to that particular talent. It felt good, whatever it was, like I would enjoy it.
Mail, probably. This was the sort of thing that had always spooked our old mail lady.
That had nothing to do with Reagan leaving, though (I didn’t think), so I tried to home in on this particular situation. Her walking out the door to go into some sort of battle—
The desire to jump at her, wrap my arms around her legs, and stop her accosted me. But why? Was she in danger?
I should call my mother.
“All ri— What are you doing, sleeping standing up?”
I peeled my eyes opened, seeing her standing in the archway with her leather pants and tank top, her fanny pack, and her hair in a ponytail. Her stern face and kickass vibe.
“I want to go with you,” I blurted.
Wariness crossed her features. “I’m going to go into the thick of things. The MLE office hasn’t been able to bring this thing down. It’s a surly one. This is no place for a newbie.”
Pressure made it hard to breathe. “I know. I get that. And I’m a fu—I’m an idiot for trying.”
A grin twisted her lips. “You’re trying to swear your way into my heart, aren’t you.”
I totally was. “But you and Darius and the Bankses brought me into the thing in Seattle for a reason,” I went on, talking quickly now. “You called me to help. And I did. I pulled through. In the Guild compound, I pulled through. I can see my way out of a pinch, I know I can.”
She shifted, her eyes clouding over, and I could tell she wanted to say no.
I rushed on before she could get the words out. “I feel like I’m finally in the right headspace. Now I just need experience. Real experience, not torturing a put-upon rubber dummy in a magically closed-off backyard.”
Her grin was back, but her brows were still pinched tight.
“Look, worst case, I can run,” I said, knowing I needed to go with her. Somehow, it felt like she was in danger. Maybe it was my imagination, but… “I am extremely good at knowing when to run. I’ve been practicing that my whole life. Or I can fight. I’m not great, but I can pack a mean kick.”
“Yes, you can. Your kick is fantastic. I have three intense bruises from it.”
“And I won’t tell Darius…and you won’t tell Callie and Dizzy. We’ll keep each other’s secrets.”
“I love the attempt at blackmail, but it’ll be a hard secret to keep if you die.”
“I won’t die.”
“How do I know?”
“Because…I won’t, that’s how.” Of all the weak arguments…but I doubted she’d believe me if I told her she was the one I was worried about.
“Look.” She spread her hands, and my heart sank. She had a fast car and I had none. If she planned to leave me behind, there was nothing I could do about it. “It’s not my place to tell you how to live.”