Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I shrugged, but I had never been very good at being macho.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I could.”
The three of them gathered around me and I felt the power flowing between us as their arms enfolded me. The power of friendship—the power of love. That power is more magical than any spell you could cast or any enchantment you could conjure and it made me feel better, as it always did.
“Thanks, girls,” I said at last, sitting back and sniffing, while I blotted at my eyes with the sleeve of my robe. “It’s good to know you’ve all got my back.”
“Always,” Megan swore loyally.
“We’ll be right behind you.” Kaitlyn’s eyes flashed. “And your dad had better behave himself!”
“Tell him you’ve got a Fairy Princess who commands the warriors of both Fae realms, a huge, scary Drake, and the Witch Queen at your back,” Emma advised, smiling a little. “Maybe that will make him behave a little better.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to threaten him—it would be nice if he’d just help me on his own,” I said. Actually, I would be happy if my dad was just civil instead of being so cold and distant, which was his usual MO, but I didn’t tell them that.
“So when are we going to talk to him?” Megan asked.
“I’ll ask my mom to make us all lunch on Saturday,” I said. “I’m going to have to bring Saint too, so my dad can feel his curse—that is, if he’ll agree to help me.”
Emma shivered.
“You don’t need any extra magical perception to feel that. Just being near him when his Drake is anywhere near the surface is like standing at the gates of Hell.” She shot me a glance. “Sorry, Avery, but it’s true.”
“I know. I know it better than anybody—I’m the one who has to keep talking him down, remember?” I said. “But think of poor Saint—he tells me it’s like having a crazy person inside him, screaming at him all the time.” I shook my head. “I don’t know how he lives with it without going insane.”
“Poor guy,” Megan said sympathetically. “And it isn’t even his fault he was cursed, is it?”
I shook my head.
“He was cursed for something his father did,” I told them, and saw Kaitlyn nodding. She’d had the whole story from Saint before I had, back when she had visited the Sky Lands with Ari.
“Well, hopefully your father will be willing to help you out,” Megan said briskly. “And if he won’t, we’ll figure something out.”
I knew she was thinking of using her Blood Magic again, but to be honest, I wasn’t sure even that would work—(if she’d been allowed to use it, which she most certainly wasn’t.) But my father had some experience with curse-breaking. He had worked in that field before going into Climate Change, so it should be right up his alley.
I just hoped he’d consent to listen to me—hoped he could see past his hatred of what I was long enough to help Saint.
28
AVERY
“This is delicious chicken salad, Mrs. Connor,” Megan said, smiling at my mom.
“Yes—I’ve never had chicken salad with grapes and pecans in it before,” Kaitlyn added. “I love it!”
“Me too.” Emma smiled as she took another bite of the chicken salad on a croissant that my mom had made from scratch. She’d made everything from scratch—as I said, she was an excellent cook.
Saint simply sat quietly and ate, but he nodded and smiled agreement, which was fine—I’d told my mom that my boyfriend was a “little shy.”
“I’m so glad you like everything!” My mom was shorter than all my Coven mates but she was dressed to impress in her nicest blue floral print dress and a pair of heels that almost made up the height difference. She was also wearing my grandmother’s strand of antique pearls that were spelled with a good luck charm—they glowed with creamy light against her skin. I thought it was likely we’d need every bit of luck the pearls could give us.
She’d been so excited over meeting my Coven mates and my boyfriend.
“You never bring friends home!” she’d exclaimed, when I explained the situation and asked if we could come for lunch, to hopefully ambush my dad into helping with Saint’s curse. “I’m so happy you want to for once!”
Of course, she and I both knew why I didn’t bring people home—it was because my dad liked the house quiet and didn’t encourage visitors. Also, the tension between the two of us was always extremely high—like Thanksgiving dinner right after the election when your family is split down the middle between conservatives and liberals high. But I was hoping my mom’s excellent chicken salad with lemon squares for dessert would loosen him up some—it was his favorite lunch, after all.
There was a choice of hand-squeezed lemonade and home brewed sweet tea to drink and my mom had brought out the best linen tablecloth and china. She didn’t get to entertain much, due to my dad’s taciturn ways, but she loved to put on a show when she got the chance.