Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
IZZY
“ Y ou cheated!” Ethan says for the one millionth time, pouting.
I give a little celebratory dance as I step out of the arcade.
Night has fallen, and the sky is peppered with stars and a full moon. We must’ve been at the arcade for hours. I’m happy I texted Hale beforehand—he would’ve been worried sick.
I texted Grayson as well but, of course, received no response.
I try not to let that bother me, try not to let the pain of his rejection sink into me like barbs.
“Don’t hate the player,” I tease, walking backwards to keep my gaze on the three big losers. “Hate the game.”
“I am never arcading again,” Emery mutters.
Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose. “For the last time, it’s not ‘arcading.’”
“I think this is the first time in my life that I’m okay with being defeated,” Ansel muses, canting his head to the side.
His light-brown hair flops over one eye.
“I’m not. Especially since she cheated.” Ethan throws me a pointed look.
I throw my hands up in the air. “How did I cheat?”
“You know how…” His cheeks turn red, and he immediately ducks his head, muttering something too low for me to hear.
I have to bite my lip to keep from chuckling.
Because oh yeah. I totally cheated. It’s amazing what being a woman can do for you around horny dogs—pun totally intended.
Take Skee-Ball, for example. The second Ethan would toss his arm back to throw the ball, I would purposely bend, showing just a tiny bit of cleavage. Once, the ball ended up on the opposite track.
Or when we were playing air hockey, I allowed my sleeve to slip down just enough to reveal a hint of my bra strap.
Or when we were playing a basketball game, I happened to drop a coin and had to bend down…
I chuckle to myself, and Ethan’s eyes narrow.
“You’re evil.”
“Nah. I just think I’m better than you in every way.” I shrug a single shoulder casually.
“She has us there.” Emery throws his arms around Ansel and Ethan’s shoulders and smiles at me. The moonlight catches on his piercing, causing it to glisten. “I’m more than willing to bow down to you.”
“Good boy,” I praise.
He bites his lip so hard, I swear I see blood.
“I still don’t think it’s fair,” Ethan protests. “You ch?—”
He freezes abruptly, his muscles locking together and his nostrils flaring. Tension lines the rigid planes of his shoulders and the granite set of his jaw.
Emery stops walking as well and whips his head to the side.
“What’s going on?” Ansel asks, ducking under Ethan’s arm to go and stand beside me.
A frown tugs at his perfect lips.
Ethan and Emery exchange a look and then immediately begin to herd us towards the car.
“We need to go,” Ethan says briskly.
“Now,” Emery agrees.
But we don’t make it more than a few steps.
Out of the darkness, six people step forward, moving with a sort of elegance I could only attempt to emulate one day.
I recognize the girl closest to me immediately.
Michelle.
She smirks victoriously when our eyes connect and brushes a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Five other people flank her—one other girl and four guys.
The man in the middle steps away from the group with an easygoing grin on his face.
“Boys. Long time no see.” His smile doesn’t fade, even as his eyes darken, turning flinty, two chips of obsidian refracting the moonlight.
On closer inspection, I see that he isn’t a man after all. Or at least, he’s not significantly older than us. He looks as if he’s Christian’s age, maybe a little older. His dark hair is buzzed close to his scalp on the sides but is longer on the top, sweeping forward in a stylish way. He has light-brown skin and darker eyes—so dark that they seem to swallow the moonlight.
He must be Michelle’s brother. The similarities between the two of them are unmistakable.
And if Michelle is a witch, then that means he’s a…
Cold fear tiptoes up my neck.
Ethan and Emery move to stand in front of me, shoulder to shoulder, blocking me from view.
Ansel may not know what they are, but he can obviously sense the threat permeating the air. He, too, shifts slightly, inching closer until only a wisp of air separates our bodies.
“Dyson,” Emery greets coldly.
I can’t see his expression, but I can see how tightly he’s holding himself, like a loaded coil waiting to spring.
“How have you two been?” the man—Dyson—asks, cocking his head to the side. “It’s been a while.”
“Not long enough,” Ethan murmurs, too low for them to overhear.
“I think you know why we’re here,” Dyson continues.
Michelle flashes me an evil grin and then turns to her brother, her lower lip wobbling and tears erupting in her eyes.
She sniffles exaggeratedly. “That’s the girl! That’s the one who punched me!”
“You punched her?” Emery’s voice bleeds incredulity.
“Not hard enough, apparently.” I scowl.
“I think I love you,” Emery says.
I roll my eyes and then shoulder my way through the two bodies blocking me. Both immediately try to pull me back, but I refuse to cower behind them.
“I wouldn’t have punched you if you weren’t being such a raging bitch,” I snap, putting my hands on my hips.
Witch or not, I’m not scared of her.
Okay, that’s a lie.
I’m a little scared.
Michelle’s eyes narrow, the tears drying up as if they never existed to begin with. “You’re going to regret what you did.”
“You going to have your big brother beat me up?” I taunt, unable to keep my mouth shut.
“Izzy!” Ethan hisses, his voice rife with horror.
Emery simply chokes on his own spit in surprise.
Dyson stares at me curiously, his gaze assessing, his eyes devouring me from head to toe. Interest sparks in his gaze. “This is the girl who got the best of you, Michelle?”
“She took me by surprise!” Michelle snaps, apparently giving up on her “weepy, sad” act.
Dyson continues to gaze at me intently, his expression unreadable, his jaw clenched. “What’s your name?”
“What’s your name?” I counter, even though I already know it.
I just feel like being a bitch.
He chuckles and takes a step forward, his hand extended. “Dyson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I eye his palm like it’s disease ridden and very purposely look away without taking it.
I arch an eyebrow. “Izzy.”
He keeps his hand in the air, his expression amused, before lowering it back to his side.
“Izzy.” He says my name like he wants to savor it, like it’s something decadent for him to taste.
He goes so far as to lick his lips.
Emery growls low in his throat.
“I was curious to see the woman my sister hates so much. But I have to be honest… You’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” I cock my hip to the side.
“For one, you’re not as ugly as my sister described.”
“Geez. Thanks.” I roll my eyes.
“For two, you’re not as…human as she described either.” His eyes gleam like onyx stones as he ventures a step forward. Curiosity blankets his face. “What are you?”
Unease slithers in my stomach like a serpent. “I’m human.”
“Yes, you are,” he agrees easily. “But you’re something else too. Something…other.”
“And she’s hanging around one of ours,” a boy I don’t recognize interjects. He jerks his chin in Ansel’s direction. “I can sense the magic in him.”
All six of them turn to stare at Ansel, and my friend takes a step back automatically, his face leaching of color.
Dyson cocks his head to the side. His eyes glaze over, shining like someone lit a candle beneath the surface, and he gives Ansel a cold once-over. It’s not lecherous like the one he granted me.
“Interesting,” he murmurs as the glow recedes from his eyes. “Very, very interesting.” He turns towards the twins, his smile more of a baring of teeth than anything genuine. “Would you like to explain to us why you have an unregistered warlock hanging around you? Because I’m positive the Trinity would love to hear about this.”