12. Chapter 12

Chapter twelve

S torm's overreaction the previous evening had turned out to be the best thing he'd ever done.

As a result, he had his memories back. He and King had confirmed their bond and cemented their relationship. Just as importantly, his mate was coming around to the idea that just because his parents sucked didn't mean his siblings were cut from the same cloth.

It would take time to undo years of miscommunication and let go of old resentments, but Storm had confidence that things would work themselves out in due course. King had been on his phone all morning, going back and forth with his sisters and brother in their group chat.

So far, he seemed receptive, if maybe a little wary.

They had apparently been invited to another family dinner the following weekend. Only this time, it would be hosted at Reina's house, and their parents had been purposely excluded. King had promised to consider the offer, but he hadn't committed, using the excuse of Storm's filming schedule.

Storm had promised to let King repair his relationship with his siblings at his own pace. That didn't mean he couldn't offer a little encouragement, though, and he had seven whole days to convince his mate that the gathering was a good idea.

In the meantime, they had more pressing matters that required their attention. Like discovering who had hexed him. Since Cyrus had also been a victim, he had been particularly motivated to find answers.

For starters, the hellhound had learned that the guy claiming to be Nita's boyfriend had, indeed, been her boyfriend. Storm could only imagine the guy's frustration and confusion when the female had asserted that she didn't know him.

According to Nita's beau, they had been dating for almost a year, but they weren't true, fated mates. This had led King to hypothesize that was why Nita had forgotten her partner, but not her family or friends.

There was some credence to this since the opposite had happened to Cyrus and Storm. They had forgotten everything except their mates. Another difference was that Nita hadn't experienced cognitive issues in recalling the names of everyday objects or performing her duties at the hotel. She also hadn't attacked a television or threatened her mate's mother. So, there was that.

Arguably, of the three of them, she seemed to have been the least affected, while Storm had taken the brunt of the curse. On the other hand, unlike Cyrus, he remembered everything that had happened while he'd been under the influence. Which had led him to wonder if it was even the same curse. It had to be, but nothing about it added up.

Of course, what everyone really wanted to know was who they had to blame for the clusterfuck that had haunted them for the past several days. Thankfully, Cyrus had answers for them.

He'd called them earlier to give them the news, and now they were all gathered around one of the monitors in the security office. It had taken him a few days to review the footage and analyze everyone's movements, but he had three separate clips queued up for them to see.

"So, I found a couple dozen people who interacted with all three of us," the hellhound told them as he settled into the chair in front of the screen. "I was able to narrow it down significantly by the order in which we came into contact with them. Nita first, me—" He glanced up at Storm. "—and you."

Storm nodded that he understood and was following so far.

"Once I reviewed which ones we had physical contact with, that brought the number down to two. So, then I analyzed how much time passed between interactions, since Nita and I started showing symptoms fairly close together."

Storm nodded, impressed. Given several uninterrupted weeks, he might have eventually figured it out, but Cyrus had accomplished it in a matter of days. He also appreciated that the hellhound had taken the time to break down his process in simple terms, especially since he was under no obligation to do so. He could have just pointed out the culprit and left it at that.

"I'm pretty confident this is our guy." He clicked the mouse and began playing a recording of Nita speaking to a young male with horn-rimmed glasses and a vibrant pink mohawk.

"Owen?" Storm couldn't believe it. "You're sure?"

Cyrus arched both eyebrows at him. "You know him?"

He could only nod. Of all the possible suspects, Owen wouldn't have even made his top twenty.

The clip continued to play, showing Nita smiling and laughing before gently patting Owen on the shoulder. Going by the timestamp in the top right corner, this would have been sometime during the transition between the Q&A and the signing.

Then Cyrus switched to a recording of him and Owen in what appeared to be a friendly conversation. There was no audio, so Storm couldn't be sure what they were talking about, but both of them were smiling. At the end of the conversation, they shook hands.

The time stamp showed only fifteen minutes had passed since the first clip.

Finally, the hellhound brought up the footage of Owen making his way onto the stage to shake Storm's hand. That had happened nearly an hour after Owen and Cyrus' interaction.

The evidence was irrefutable, and the timeline made sense, but Storm couldn't wrap his head around it. Why would Owen want to curse him, let alone two strangers, that by all appearances, he had been amiable with during the evening?

"He'll be at the fan meeting tonight," King announced, speaking for the first time since they had entered the room. "I think we should plan to talk to him before the event starts to avoid any disruptions." His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. "Taking him to the side during registration would probably be better than dragging him into the security office. We don't want to scare him."

There was no accusation or anger in his voice, though no one would have blamed him if there had been. Instead, he spoke matter-of-factly with clear action steps, the way he might approach a broken pipe in one of the guest rooms.

"I agree," Cyrus said. "We don't want to spook him and risk being hexed again."

"Or piss him off," King countered. "We still need his help with Nita."

As a human, now that they were bonded, it was assumed King would receive what many referred to as a paranormal upgrade. Things like heightened senses, immunity to diseases, and faster healing were some of the first and most common of these enhancements. In King, however, the most notable changes—so far—had been cerebral.

There was a calmness about him now. He seemed clearer minded and less anxious, less indecisive. When choosing what to eat for breakfast, he hadn't spent ten minutes fretting over what he wanted to eat versus what he thought he should eat. Instead, he'd compromised by simply adding Greek yogurt and fresh fruit to his waffle.

When it came to selecting an outfit, he had chosen comfort over style, recognizing it would be a long, exhausting day that required him to be on his feet for hours at a time. Storm still thought he looked stunning in his dark-washed jeans and lavender V-neck, but he acknowledged that it wasn't something Daniella would have approved of.

Given King's previous jealousy and dislike of Owen, he had expected more of an aggressive reaction to learning the male had caused this mess. He'd even anticipated an I-told-you-so. Or two.

Maybe it was his infusion of supernatural blood, or maybe because he simply felt more secure in his and Storm's relationship. Whatever the reason, he now possessed an air of confidence that hadn't been there before.

While Storm would never want to change anything about his mate, he did like this more assured version of him. Not because he thought there had been anything wrong with King before, but because the guy seemed happy. Content and comfortable in his own skin.

"He might already be here," Storm offered, referring to his troublesome fan. "Fifty or so people have been lined up outside since sunrise."

Damien had once told him they did that so they could be the first through the doors to get a front-row seat, but it still sounded extreme and unnecessary to him. After five years of this fame gig, he probably should have been used to it. Yet, he doubted it would ever be normal to him.

Cyrus immediately turned to the collection of monitors on the back wall and began clacking away at the keyboard. Within seconds, the center screen showed an enlarged view of the portico in front of the hotel. Unlike the crowd gathered beyond the police line in the parking lot, the fans waiting to enter sat in a neat row, chattering amongst themselves.

Which made it pretty easy to spot Owen's colorful mohawk in the lineup. Alone, and apparently uninterested in engaging his fellow partygoers, he leaned against one of the stone lions with his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. Wearing a pair of oversized headphones, he had his head tilted back and his eyes closed.

The picture of ease, he didn't look like he had a care in the world. He sure as hell didn't give off the appearance of someone returning to the scene of the crime after cursing three people.

Storm couldn't decide if it was cockiness, indifference, or something else, but the whole vibe felt strange. "Are you sure it's him?"

"I think he's someone worth talking to," Cyrus responded.

When he swirled around in his seat and started to stand, however, King stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

"I think someone else should go get him." He glanced up at Storm with an apologetic smile. "If either of us step outside, it's going to be chaos." Then he returned his attention to the hellhound. "And no offense, but you're kind of scary on your best day."

The guard smiled at this. "Thanks."

Somehow, Storm didn't think his mate had meant it as a compliment. "So, who do we send?"

"Arlo," King answered without hesitation. "He's charming and non-threatening. Plus, he'll love the chance to put on a performance."

Storm admitted to being slightly biased since the guy happened to be his mate's best friend, but Arlo did seem perfect for the task. There wasn't an intimidating bone in his body, and just a few minutes in his presence could brighten anyone's day.

"Alright," Cyrus announced, pushing out of his chair…and actually making it to his feet this time. "Go get him."

"Should we meet at the café?" Storm suggested.

King shook his head. "Too many windows. We don't want to start unnecessary rumors."

Ah, good point. Priya was still seething over the lake incident. Probably best not to test the limits of her patience.

"How about my dressing room?" he offered instead.

Technically, it was one of the Manor's many conference rooms, but for the duration of filming, it had been transformed into his respite while on set. It was private, as well as non-confrontational, and it wouldn't set off any alarm bells when they brought Owen in.

"That could work." King gave him one of those dazzling smiles before turning to Cyrus. "What do you think?"

"I like it. I'll head there with Storm and clear out anyone in the vicinity."

"I'll send Arlo out and wait for him and Owen in the lobby," King added. "We'll meet you guys in a few."

As they all started to leave, Storm caught his mate by the elbow and spun him around. "Be careful and don't touch him."

With a sweet, indulgent smile, King pushed up on his toes for a quick, chaste kiss. "Don't worry. I've got this." He stole another kiss, then pulled free of Storm's grasp. "See you in a minute."

By the time Storm caught up with Cyrus, the hellhound had already sent any lingering staff on their way with strict instructions not to return until notified. Then they entered the modified conference room and waited.

Storm settled down on the emerald-green loveseat and tried to appear casual. For an actor, it should have been easy, but thinking about King being near Owen without even a sliver of protection made it hard to relax.

His companion, however, didn't even attempt neutrality. He stood just a few feet from the door, arms crossed over his chest, and a perma-scowl etched into the lines of his face.

"Dude, chill. We're supposed to be making him feel comfortable." He waved a hand, indicating the hellhound's tense posture. "You look like you're going to bite his face off as soon as he walks through the door."

Cyrus growled, but he moved over to the table that had been pushed against the wall, dragged out one of the chairs, and flopped down on it. It didn't help. The guy looked no less brutal.

Thankfully, Storm didn't have to worry about it for long. No more than five minutes had passed when there was a soft, perfunctory rap at the door, and King stepped into the room. Owen followed behind him with Arlo bringing up the rear. They all appeared calm, and Owen even wore a slanted smile. He clearly had no idea why he'd been summoned, but he seemed pleased by the invitation.

"Come on in," Arlo said, his tone light and pleasant as he directed Owen to one of the two armchairs. "Have a seat."

While Owen followed the instructions, Arlo sashayed over to Cyrus and hopped up on the table to sit. He leaned back on his palms and swung his feet, looking for all the world like a kid waiting for the bus. King, on the other hand, moved to sit beside Storm on the loveseat with a much more stoic expression.

"How do we start?" Storm asked, using his telepathic link to his mate. "Do we just ask him why he cursed us?"

"I don't really know. I was hoping Cyrus would take it from here."

Storm glanced at the hellhound. "Maybe that's not such a good idea."

Before either of them could decide how to proceed, Arlo took the burden from them.

"So, you're a witch?"

Owen's eyes widen, and the blood drained from his face, leaving him sickly pale. "What did I do?"

Storm didn't know what the hell to think. That certainly hadn't been the reaction he'd expected. "You're not in trouble." Yet. "We just have some questions for you."

"Yeah," Arlo interjected. "Like, why did you hex my friends? Not cool, bro."

"I–I hexed someone?" A mortified groan rolled from Owen's chest, and he dropped his face into his hands briefly before looking up at them again. "Are they okay? Did I hurt someone?"

Okay, this was getting weird. Storm had come into the room expecting to confront an asshole with a chip on his shoulder. The poor kid sure as hell didn't fit that description. In fact, he looked like one wrong word would eviscerate him.

"No, you didn't hurt anyone," King said kindly. Inching to the edge of the cushion, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and linking his fingers together. "Maybe we should back up a little. You are a mage, right?"

Owen nodded. "Yes."

"And you did curse someone at the last event?"

He chewed his bottom lip as tears welled along his red-rimmed lids. "I don't know. If I did, I swear I didn't do it on purpose."

Storm glanced around the room, recognizing the same confusion on the other's faces that he felt. "Were you born a witch?"

While rare, there were other ways to obtain magic. Although, those means were highly frowned upon.

"Yes." Owen bobbed his head again. "Sort of."

Storm frowned. What the fuck did that mean?

"What the fuck does that mean?" Arlo blurted. Leave it to him to say the inside parts out loud.

"I'm an accipere ." At their clueless looks, Owen elaborated. "A syphon. I wasn't born with magic of my own. I can only absorb it from others." He dragged both hands over his face and sighed. "If there's a way to control it, I haven't figured it out yet, and I definitely don't know how to use the magic I take."

Well, fuck him sideways. At no point in their planning had Storm expected to walk away feeling sorry for the kid.

"What did I do?" Owen asked again. "Someone, please tell me."

"You erased Storm's memory," King answered. "As well as Cyrus—" He pointed to the hellhound. "—and a female named Nita."

"Fuck," Owen cursed, but it came out as little more than a breath. "I'm so sorry. I don't even know how I did it."

"We think it was through touch," King explained. "Has something like this happened before?"

The witch nodded sadly and repeated, "I'm so sorry."

Feeling the urge to comfort him, Storm offered a bit of good news. "Cyrus and I are fine now. Our memories have returned."

"Oh, thank the goddess."

"Nita is okay, too, but the spell affected her differently. She can remember everything about her life except her boyfriend."

"Do you know why that might be?" King asked. "You said you don't know how to use the magic you absorb, so I'm thinking it probably manifests from your emotions."

Owen's cheeks pinkened, and his gaze flickered to Storm before lowering again. "I was jealous," he admitted. "After I found out you two were mated, I kept thinking I just wished he would forget you." He rounded his shoulders and lifted his head to look at King. "Sorry."

But King just chuckled. "Don't worry. I get it. I'd probably feel the same way in your shoes."

"Really?" Storm sent to his mate.

"No, but just look at him. There's no reason to make him feel worse."

"So, you wouldn't be jealous if I was mated to someone else?" he teased.

"Keep talking, and you'll be sleeping alone tonight."

Storm barked out a sharp laugh, not even caring when everyone in the room turned to look at him like he'd lost his mind. He was blessed to have remembered the time he and King had spent together while he was hexed. He could even recall how obsessed he'd been with his mate during that time.

Honestly, that part hadn't changed, and he still thought the guy was too fucking adorable for his own good. Even when he was mad. Especially when he was mad.

"So," Arlo said, dragging the word out. "You wanted Storm to forget King, but wires got crossed, and instead, he ended up forgetting everything else. And Cyrus and Nita were just…accidents?"

"That sounds about right. Like I said, I have no idea how it works. I really am sorry." Then, after a long tense silence, Owen asked, "How much trouble am I in?"

They all looked to Cyrus. As head of security, it was technically his call, but Storm couldn't even guess what the charges would be, let alone the punishment. It had been a tough week, but there hadn't been any permanent damage.

Well, apart from Cyrus' television.

Oh, and the irreparable chasm Storm had created between himself and King's mother. Although, to be fair, he would have likely done that all on his own, curse or not.

That just left Nita. Yes, the female would probably be happy to remember her partner, but no other part of her life had changed. While a shitty thing to do, being a homewrecker wasn't exactly a capital offense.

"Will you fix Nita?" Cyrus asked, echoing his thoughts.

"If I can, but I'm telling you, I honestly don't know how." Owen tensed, his eyes widened, and he looked on the verge of panic. "I don't even know how I cursed any of you in the first place."

"Well, let's think about this logically," King said, the voice of reason. "Cyrus said there were quite a few magic users at the last event." He looked to the hellhound for confirmation and smiled when Cyrus nodded. "I think it's safe to say that you absorbed magic from them without meaning to."

"Do you have to touch them to do that?" Arlo asked from his perch.

"Yes, but it doesn't always happen."

"I'd guess the more powerful the Otherling, the more practiced they'd be at blocking you," King offered.

Everyone nodded thoughtfully, agreeing that it made perfect sense.

"Oh, I get it!" Arlo shouted as he practically flung himself off the table. "You're an ass-pear."

" Accipere," Owen corrected, but he looked to be having a hard time not laughing about the mispronunciation.

"Right, whatever. Spells are magic." When no one seemed to be following his train of thought, he threw his hands in the air and huffed. "Take back the hex! Just absorb it. That could work, right?"

Owen thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "Theoretically?" His tone didn't hold a lot of confidence. "Yeah, I could try. I can't promise it'll work, though."

"What do you think, darlin'?"

King leaned to the side to rest against his shoulder. "I think it's worth a shot."

"Agreed." Now that they had that out of the way, he had another piece of news he'd been keeping close to the vest all day. "We're going to have a few extra guests at the fan meet tonight."

"Oh?" King sounded more distracted than curious. "Who?"

"My family."

It took a couple of seconds for the information to penetrate, but when it did, King bolted upright, his eyes as big around as dinner plates. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"What?" Arlo demanded. "What did I miss? This telepath stuff sucks balls."

"Calm down, darlin'. It's just my parents and my sisters. I promise they're not that scary."

"How long have you known?"

"I called them first thing this morning."

"This morning!" King screeched. "And you're just now telling me? What the hell, Storm?"

"Tell me," Arlo whined. "I want to know!"

"Oh, my god, I hate you." With that, King launched himself off the loveseat and marched out of the room without so much as a see-you-later.

"I love you, too!" Storm called after him.

Clearly, no one knew how to respond to the outburst, and the resulting tension in the room turned thick and cloying. Until Owen finally broke the uneasy silence.

"Uh, so can I go now?"