Chapter 40

Forty

ANSEL

A combination of fear and panic seizes the air in my lungs.

Unregistered warlock?

What is he talking about?

I know I have these…powers, but I’ve never been given a name for what I am. Even my mother has been evasive when I asked about it.

Is he saying…?

I think I’m going to be sick.

I wait for Izzy to tell him he’s insane, to laugh in his face, but she goes very still. Slowly, she swivels her head to stare at me.

“What is he talking about, Ansel?” Her voice is low.

A tinny, mechanical voice in the back of my head warns me to proceed with caution.

“I…I don’t know,” I stutter out.

“That’s probably the truth.” The asshole—Dyson—chuckles, though his eyes hold no amusement. “I imagine he’s just as confused as the rest of us.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and takes a single step forward. “Tell me… I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten your name.”

None of us respond to him. Emery and Ethan are coiled tight with tension, and Izzy just appears pissed. And me? I’m trying to get my racing heart under control. It tripled in speed the second he used the word “warlock” in casual conversation.

“You look like a Bart to me. Can I call you Bart?” He cants his head to the side, and his pitch-black hair reflects in the moonlight.

Again, none of us respond.

“Tell me, Bart, are you able to do things that no one else can? Things that seem impossible?” His gaze flicks to Izzy for a fraction of a second before refocusing on me. “Say…healing people?”

I stop breathing.

Stop thinking.

Fear holds me immobile.

“I fucking knew it,” Emery murmurs.

Ethan shushes him.

“This happens from time to time.” Dyson releases a heavy sigh. “Children will get lost in the system or raised by relatives who don’t know about magic. Then, when they develop their gifts, they’re confused and frightened. Is that what happened to you, Bart?”

“Stop calling him Bart,” Izzy interjects, her voice tight with anger. “His name is Ansel.”

Dyson grins like the cat that got the cream. I don’t like the smile he offers Izzy. Not one bit.

“Ansel.” He tilts his head to the side, reluctantly pulling his gaze off of Izzy to study me. “I think Bart suits you better.”

“Illy.” I keep my voice low so only she and the twins can hear. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you should leave.”

“And let you face these fuckers alone?” Unlike me, Izzy doesn’t bother to lower her voice. “Fuck that.”

“Why don’t you run off with your little pet doggies?” the dark-haired woman says, sneering.

I think they said her name was Michelle.

Izzy’s smile is all teeth. “Why don’t I punch you in the face and give you a matching black eye?”

Michelle gasps and spins towards Dyson. “Did you hear her? That fucking bitch?—”

“Enough, sister.” Dyson lifts a hand in the air, stopping her mid-rant. He returns his gaze to Izzy, his eyes sparking with curiosity and something…more. Something I really, really don’t like. “We’re having a civilized conversation here.”

“But—”

“And if you can’t be civilized, then you can go wait in the car,” he continues.

“Or you can take a running leap off a cliff,” Izzy mutters. “Either works.”

Michelle throws Izzy a glare so full of loathing and hatred that I feel my own stomach curdle in fear.

“Ansel.” Dyson extends a hand towards me. “You need to come with us. The Trinity will?—”

Izzy stealthily moves to stand in front of me, the twins still on either side of her.

“Not going to happen,” she says fiercely.

Dyson’s grin ratchets up a dozen notches. “Is that so?”

Terror knots my heart, but the last thing I want is for Izzy to get herself hurt trying to protect me.

“Illy, it’s fine,” I whisper.

She doesn’t spare me a glance. “No, it’s not.” Then, louder, she adds, “We’re going home now, okay? And you’re not stopping us.”

Dyson gestures us forward with more contempt than courtesy. “By all means, go on right ahead.”

“Dyson!” Michelle stomps her foot, but Dyson ignores his sister, keeping his gaze trained on us.

“We’re not the bad guys here,” he continues, his lips curling. “If Ansel doesn’t want to meet with the Trinity, then that’s his choice.”

The Trinity?

My mind instantly conjures up images of a derelict church. A shiver of unease ripples down my spine.

Izzy grabs my wrists and begins to drag me towards the car, her eyes never leaving the six men and women surrounding us.

Dyson’s smile grows as if he finds her trepidation and suspicion cute.

Emery and Ethan wait until both Izzy and I are in the car before moving as well. Scowls mar their identical faces. Normally, they’re so easy to tell apart, but just now, in the darkness of the cab, I can’t identify who’s Ethan and who’s Emery.

“I’ll be seeing you guys soon. Real soon.” Dyson lifts his hand in a wave.

And he continues to wave until the darkness swallows him whole.