Two, Three, Four…Hundreds

TWO, THREE, FOUR…HUNDREDS

Z ane hugs Esme tighter. “Do you want me to tell them?”

“No.” She takes a shaky breath. “I appreciate that you gave us time to recover before asking, but I knew this was coming.”

“Okay.” He kisses her temple. “Remember, I’m right here with you.”

Her hands tremble as she pushes up her sleeve, revealing the familiar black squiggle on her arm — the sign of a witch who’s killed with magic, and the reason they’re on the run.

I have a similar mark, and it itches beneath the forearm sheath that holds my wand. I earned mine while defending myself against a monster who stalked and tortured me, which is how I know the black squiggle doesn’t mean Esme is evil.

Over the last week, she’s revealed only timid kindness, confirming my decision to take them in.

Unshed tears glisten in her lashes. “I… didn’t want to k-kill Calix, but I had no choice.”

Touching people who aren’t my mates has always made me uncomfortable. If I told Dr. Lopez, she would attribute that to a lack of socialization while growing up, which is why I keep it to myself. But Esme looks broken, like the mark on her arm somehow makes her dirty.

I reach across Tris to grasp her hand. “No one here is judging your actions. When forced into a corner, there’s no shame in using whatever weapon is at hand to survive.”

Esme’s startled eyes meet mine, and she nods, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

As I sit back, Tris squeezes my thigh out of view of the others.

“It all started with my abusive relationship. This was before I met Zane,” she rushes to add. “Zane has never hurt me.”

I give her a reassuring smile. “We know Zane is good people.”

He dips his head toward me in thanks .

“I had been with Calix since I first discovered I was a witch. My parents were regular humans. They adopted me, which I didn’t know until my powers developed.” She picks up her napkin to tear at it. “He was older than me, a mentor who I trusted. Once I turned eighteen, though, our relationship changed.”

I bristle with anger. “He groomed you.”

“I…” She blinks as if she had never considered this before. “Yes, I suppose he did, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought I was in love.”

Zane’s lips peel back to expose his fangs, but he remains silent.

“Calix wasn’t abusive at first. It was something that evolved.” She rips the napkin into pieces, focusing on it instead of the story she tells. “By the time I realized what was happening, I was already in the hospital for the dozenth time. A nurse there tried to help me. It was the first of several attempts to leave.”

“You were brave,” Owen murmurs.

“I tried to be. No matter how many times I ran away, he always found me. And each time, it led to more pain.” She shudders at the memory, and tears slip down her cheeks. “After a while, I gave up and resigned myself to a life of abuse. I even began to think I deserved it.”

I stuff my hands under the table to hide my clenched fists. “Nobody deserves to go through that.”

“Thank you.” She offers me a watery smile. “I just… I need you to know the truth. Our presence here puts your family in danger, after all.”

“We can take care of ourselves,” Ros assures her.

Esme nods, the tears falling faster, and Zane envelops her slender frame in his strong arms. Even if I couldn’t see the pale-green sparks rising from where their skin touches, I’d know by the tender way he holds her that they belong together.

Esme accepts the napkin Haut offers and dabs her cheeks. “I worked nights at a blood donation center as a cleaner. That’s where I met Zane.”

She turns to him, love softening her features. “The minute I saw him trying to break into the vault, I knew what he was.”

Tris frowns in confusion. “You mean a vampire?”

“Well, that, too.” She giggles into her hand to muffle the sound. “But I also recognized my eternal spark.”

Zane kisses her with a tenderness I never thought him capable of. “And I recognized my mate.”

She blushes and clears her throat. “Anyway, Zane helped me escape from Calix.”

Ambros’s attention snaps to Zane. “You didn’t kill this Calix when you left?”

Zane shrugs, his arm still wrapped around Esme. “I would have, but Esme begged me not to. She believed there was a way out that didn’t require taking a life.”

“I thought things would be different this time. Zane had skills at hiding that I never did. But Calix still found us.” Esme’s head drops. “He waited until Zane was out of the house before he broke in and tried to kidnap me. I used magic to defend myself.”

My fingernails dig into my palms. “Good for you.”

Owen’s hand covers my fist. “No one should ever be put into the position of making such a choice, but saving yourself was the right move, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I wish everyone saw it that way.”

“If they haven’t gone through what you did, they have no place in judging your actions,” Haut growls.

“I agree.” Zane’s arm tightens around Esme. “I felt Esme’s panic and fear, but by the time I arrived, she had already dealt with Calix. The neighbors heard the fight, though, and the police were on the way. I staged the scene to make it appear like he hit his head during the struggle.”

Haut grunts in approval.

“We were both questioned. Witnesses confirmed I didn’t arrive until later, and after they reviewed Esme’s medical records, they discovered a history of broken bones and bruises.” Zane’s expression hardens. “They didn’t investigate further and determined the death was an accident.”

“After that, we thought we were in the clear,” Esme says, picking up the story. “But Calix’s mother figured out where we were staying and cornered me in the driveway, demanding answers. When I tried to go into the house, she grabbed my arm, and that’s when she saw the mark.”

She gestures to the black squiggle. “She said she would see me pay for killing her son.”

“We packed up and left the same night. We dodged the council for a few weeks, but one of their dogs tracked us down. I fought it off, but not before one bit me.” Zane rises and lifts his shirt to display an ugly, red bite on his side. “It won’t heal the way other wounds do, so we came here to recover. ”

I remember their bloody arrival, and my brows shoot up. “Wait, literal dog? Like, woof-woof?”

“They’re magical constructs, similar to familiars.” Esme cuddles closer to Zane. “It was a massive, vicious beast, more monster than actual dog. The council uses them to hunt down criminals. They never sleep and can smell magic.”

“But the barrier around Hartford Cove will keep us hidden.” Zane kisses the top of her head. “We’re safe here.”

As safe as they can be with two witches who have connections to the council under the same dome. Should I send Aspen and Mel away? I don’t know what explanation I could give that they would believe. Especially not after giving Mel a store on Front Street.

Esme touches the wound. “No matter what I do, it won’t heal. I just… I can’t lose him.”

“You won’t.” Zane drops his shirt to hide the ugly bite once more.

Esme shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks like a waterfall. “Don’t you see? This is all my fault! We wouldn’t be in this position if I had listened to you and let you kill Calix. But since I killed him, the council is after us. They won’t stop until they punish me for what I did. ”

“You’re not a killer,” he protests. “You were trying to solve things without death. It’s Calix’s fault for not letting you go.”

“You were doing your best with the information you had,” Owen adds. “We can’t change the past, but we can do something about the present.”

When she still seems unconvinced, I rise to grip her shoulder, noticing how her hair smells like fresh lavender. “Esme, listen to me.”

I wait for her to lift her head, and I don’t try to soften my words. “You killed that bastard because he was going to kill you. How do you think Zane would have felt if he came home to find you dead? Being bitten is nothing compared to losing his mate.”

“But I’ve put you and your mates in danger, too.” Esme scrubs at the tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t know if I can live with myself if I’m the reason you all get hurt… or worse.”

“Did Zane ever tell you how he saved my life?” The memory of Bryant’s attack, the burning pain as the blood pumped from my body floods to the forefront of my mind.

I would have died that night if Zane hadn’t interceded.

Esme sniffles and nods .

“Zane saved my life, despite the risk to himself, so saving yours now is a debt owed.” I squeeze her shoulder. “We’ll fix this mess and give you freedom again.”

I turn to Zane. “In the meantime, your wound is nasty, so I’m going to call my cousin and see if she has a magical solution before it gets infected or something. Don’t argue.”

“I’m not.” He prods his side and grimaces. “The sooner this is healed, the better.”

“How about some dessert and coffee?” Owen rises and starts gathering plates. “We should still have a pumpkin pie leftover from yesterday.”

“On it!” I race to the fridge and open it, spotting the pie pan in the crisper drawer where someone tried to hide it.

As I pull it out and split it into seven equal pieces, Owen brews a pot of coffee. Soon, the rich scent of roasted beans fills the air.

I pass out the plates and fresh forks. When I head for my seat, Tris catches me and pulls me onto his lap, snuggling his head into the crook of my shoulder. His hair tickles my cheek, and I giggle despite the gravity of our situation.

“Okay, let’s talk about this black mark business.” I cut off the tip of Tris’s pie slice and feed it to him before switching to my plate. “What do we know so far, besides that it appears when magic is used to take life?”

I don’t say kill, because Tris’s ex had stolen his magic for years and was covered in squiggles. He hadn’t been her only victim, and when her power was bound, she disintegrated. Some of her ashes may still be in our vacuum.

“My stepmother once told me the black mark is a magical curse placed on someone who has violated certain sacred laws.” Ambros’s brow furrows. “Delilah might know more about the myth.”

“Wonderful,” I mutter. “More curses.”

“Better a curse than sentient magic passing judgment, though, don’t you think?” Tris points out.

“Actually, yes.” I pause with the fork halfway to his lips. “We have an excellent track record with fixing curses.”

“Two.” Haut holds up his middle and pointer finger. “You’ve fixed two curses.”

“Three, if you count both of Tris’s curses,” Owen corrects.

“Four if you count taming your curse,” Ambros adds.

“Hundreds, if you count individual werewolves.” Tris bounces his chin on my shoulder for attention. “Feed me, sparky.”

I shove the fork into his mouth. “See? Excellent track record.”

Ros rubs his palms together. “We just need to research.”

I groan. “No. We hates research.”

“I can help,” Esme volunteers, hopeful for the first time since her arrival. “I love research.”

“The more witches, the merrier.” I force enthusiasm while wishing we could bring in the rest of the coven.

But I won’t put the others at risk. It’s better for them if they can honestly claim that they didn’t know anything if the council catches up to Zane and Esme.

It would help if we had more grimoires to reference. If only the Grim Project was already launched. Maybe my cousin can sneak pictures of the hoard of spell books from her coven.

I add the request to my phone call to Aris.

“We’ll figure it out,” I say, more to myself than to Esme.

“Thanks, Rowe.” Her voice cracks. “I don’t know what I’d do without all of you.”

I’m glad she has confidence in us, because someone needs to. I may be way out of my depth here, but then again, that’s nothing new.

Haut and Owen’s heads turn toward the shuttered bay window at the same time, and Haut announces, “Company’s coming up the driveway.”

“Witch class,” Tris and I chorus with matching tones of resignation.

“That’s our cue to return to the basement.” Zane rises and helps Esme up. “Good night, everyone. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Owen takes their plates and moves them to the dishwasher so no one questions the extra place settings.

Right in time, too, as Mel and Aspen breeze through the front door like they live here.

“Rowe, we came early to continue our discussion,” Aspen says as they join us in the kitchen. “No running away this time.”

I glare at Haut, reminded of the traitor. “We are so at a Monday level of love.”

His lips curl around the fork in his mouth before he drags it out. “Maybe you are, but I’m at a rosy Sunday.”

I’ve never wanted to be a utensil until this second. “We’ll be discussing this later in private. ”

He smiles wolfishly. “I look forward to it, bad puppy.”

Damn the man. I look forward to it, too, and he knows it.

But first, we have to get through negotiations and magic class.