Twenty-Seven
Tatyana
There wasn’t much for us to be happy about after the grim discoveries we’d made throughout the day. But when the infirmary called to tell us that Dylan was awake, smiles bloomed on all our faces.
Santana, Raffe, Astrid, and I went to check on him in the evening after the nurses and Krieger cleared him for visits. He was pale and sluggish, but he was recovering nicely from the beastly curse. The moment he saw me come in, however, Dylan’s brows drew into a dark frown and he looked away.
“You shouldn’t be near me,” he mumbled.
“Oh, don’t give me that crap!” I said, smiling. I was determined not to let him be consumed by guilt. “You’re functional again. That’s what matters.”
“I almost killed you!” Dylan insisted, shifting his gaze back to me.
A brief yet awkward silence followed as Raffe, Astrid, and Santana exchanged glances.
“Dude, it happens to the best of us,” Astrid said. “You were just the one to take the hit this time around. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry,” Dylan murmured, his eyes fixed on me.
I gave him a soft smile, my heart tingling with relief. Dylan was going to be okay. He was strong and resilient, and the coven wouldn’t have been the same without him.
We’d both come to San Diego around the same time. Though, we were both so different. I came with hefty magical baggage, while Dylan had been plucked out of the human world, after having slipped through the cracks of the foster system. I was a relatively seasoned witch, while Dylan was still coming into his own as a warlock. I was frosty and kept most people at arm’s length. Dylan, despite his shyness, was warm and kind and open with everyone who crossed his path. He was like daylight, and I was the darkness of the night. Still, it was this exact contrast that made us work.
We got along better than most. And we never really had to say much for one to understand how the other felt.
Which was why, despite his frowny face and pouted lips, I knew that, deep down, Dylan was just happy to see me. I moved closer to his side, while the others settled at the foot of his bed. There were dark rings under his eyes. IV tubes went into his arms—next to us, bags of fluids and vitamins quietly dripped into his veins, building him back up, one milliliter at a time.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Dylan,” I whispered. “There was nothing you could’ve done to beat that curse. You were incredibly strong, enough to hear me, just before I gave you the cure. I know you did your best.”
“I could’ve killed you,” he replied. He sounded like he was in a lot of emotional pain—perhaps more than the physical exertion provoked by the curse itself, and it hurt me inside, too. “I was out of control.”
“That was the purpose of the curse, Dylan. To make you lose control,” I said. “Enough with the self-flagellation, already!”
He chuckled, then grimaced from the physical discomfort.
“How are you feeling?” Raffe asked, keeping his arms crossed.
Dylan grinned. “I think I’m doing better than you!”
Indeed, Raffe wasn’t looking his best, but he was extremely good at keeping his darker nature hidden. He had his own demons to deal with, and, sometimes, it spilled out into the physical plane. Raffe’s eyes were almost black, sheltered beneath black brows. The difference between a “Good Day Raffe” and a “Bad Day Raffe” wasn’t easily noticeable, though. Those of us who spent more time with him were able to tell.
“Do you need us to help you with anything?” Raffe replied, brushing Dylan’s observation away. “Anything at all?”
“I’m good, thanks,” Dylan muttered. “Just sore and embarrassed, really.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” I reiterated. “That was heavy-duty dark magic that Kenneth Willow used on you.”
He sighed. “Any news on the jerk? Have you tracked him down yet?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. He’s in the wind.”
“I’ve got his photo and physical description in the system, statewide,” Astrid replied. “We’ll know if he pops up anywhere on the grid. Until then, we just keep our eyes open. There isn’t much else we can do.”
“Man, I can’t believe I got my ass kicked like that by a seventeen-year-old,” Dylan grumbled, rubbing his face with his palms.
“You’re nineteen yourself. It’s not like the age gap really makes a difference,” Astrid said, slightly amused.
“Normally, I’d agree with you, but I’m a Herculean. We’re supposed to be more agile. You know, fast enough to not give anyone the opportunity to take us down with a curse. Especially not a kid,” Dylan said, pursing his lips.
I covered his hand with mine, squeezing gently. He looked up at me, his gaze softening on my face. “Kenneth had a morbid ace up his sleeve. Dark curses don’t care how strong or fast you are, Dylan.”
He nodded, and my pulse quickened. Then, out of nowhere and in no way commanded by my brain, my hand pulled back. My stomach hurt with frustration, and a familiar, yet uncomfortable weight settled on my shoulders. Every muscle in my body hurt, my joints bucking under the pressure.
That was Oberon’s doing. For some reason, he didn’t like me touching Dylan, and it irritated me to the point where I mentally pummeled him, throwing a flurry of Russian curse words at him. His chuckle echoed in my ears, while Dylan stared at me, frowning.
Sorry, Taty… I forgot you were behind the wheel, Oberon said.
Well, that wasn’t something the likes of Oberon could easily forget, and it was extremely annoying to experience—since the deal had been for me to always be in control. I had to keep my guard up, it seemed. At the first sign of relaxation or weakness, a spirit could slip into the front seat and bump me to the back. I couldn’t let that happen.
“Are you okay?” Dylan asked me, his voice low.
“Yes. All good. Don’t worry about me. Focus on yourself,” I replied, feeling the fake smile stretching my lips.
“Yeah, we need you back, buddy,” Astrid interjected. She gave me a warning look, then groaned and moved her focus back to Dylan. “We’ve got Garrett until you get better.”
“Ugh! No! Why?” Dylan whined.
“Well, he’s very good at what he does,” I replied. “And he’s familiar with our cases. I’ll take Garrett over Poe or Mont-Noir any time!”
“Wouldn’t you rather have me back, instead?” Dylan quipped.
“Absolutely!” I laughed. “Which is why you need to eat your veggies, listen to Krieger, and get yourself back in shape as soon as possible. Garrett may be good, but he’s still quite insufferable.”
Santana scoffed, crossing her arms. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Hey, you don’t have to work with him. Consider yourself lucky,” Astrid replied, grinning.
“Fair enough. I only dated him for a few weeks. Ew…” Santana grumbled.
Astrid’s phone beeped. “Oh, got a little bit of research work from Harley,” she said. Her eyes nearly popped out of their orbits as she read through the rest of the message. “Holy crap, she had a run-in with the Ryder twins!”
Shivers ran down my spine, and dread gripped me as flashbacks of the Devereaux crime scene came back to haunt me. The Ryders were absolutely horrible magicals—the kind that even the worst of my ancient Vasilis family looked down on. My great-great-grandparents were historically recognized villains in their own right, responsible for the deaths of many, and even they would’ve disapproved of the Ryders’ dirty methods.
“And she lived to tell the tale,” Raffe breathed. “I think our little Merlin is not done surprising us.”
“Wait till they get that Dempsey Suppressor off her!” Santana said.
“Alton is sending an updated report shortly,” Astrid went on. “I’ve put the spell Harley sent me through the system, but it’ll take a while before I get some results back. In the meantime, we should all get some rest.”
We all nodded in agreement. I gave Dylan a weak smile. I wanted to tell him, Raffe, Santana, and the rest of our team about Oberon’s presence, but I knew they would overreact. On one hand, I appreciated their concern, since they only wanted what was best for me. However, as a Kolduny, I had to improve my ability to hold a spirit inside me and keep it under control. That only came with practice, and Oberon was the perfect exercise. Plus, he’d promised to help me. He knew I’d kick him to the curb if he didn’t come through.
I had Slavic blood running through my veins. I didn’t respond well to waffling. My skin tingled—a silent nod from Oberon, telling me he’d gotten my message.
No waffling. I promise, he whispered in the back of my head.
Then deliver. You promised you’d put me in touch with spirits who know more about the Ryders, I replied in my mind.
I’m having a little trouble finding them, but I will. I swear, he said.
I instinctively rolled my eyes in response, prompting Dylan to narrow his eyes at me.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
I shook my head. “All good. In fact, everything is much better now that you’re awake,” I said, smiling.
I would tell him after my work with Oberon was done. Until then, however, I had to juggle the outside world and the balance I was trying to maintain on the inside. Carrying a spirit within me did take its toll on my energy.
Twenty-Eight
Tatyana
We left Dylan to rest and went our separate ways for the rest of the night.
The next couple of days passed in bone-crushing tension. We kept an eye on the other magical families we’d discovered in San Diego. There were charms in place and security magicals tailing each kid, twenty-four hours a day.
There was no sign of the Ryder twins, though. After their attack on Harley, they seemed to have simply vanished. We knew, however, that it was only a matter of time before they’d pop up again. Their job wasn’t done. There were still innocent magical kids out there, and, if Harley was right, they were all a part of Katherine Shipton’s plan.