Page 20 of Our Covenant

“Do you know her?” Maddox asks Thorne, and we all watch him for the answer.

“It’s Elsbeth.” His face reddens. “My Elsbeth.”

“The chick who ghosted you?” Fox chimes in, snatching the phone to get a better look.

“She didn’t ghost me,” Thorne rebuffs. “It just didn’t work out.”

As if he could lie to us.

“What’s that?” Fox turns the screen toward me and points at the small bit of paper peeking out from the hairclip tucked in her auburn waves.

“What does it look like to you?” Maddox is shaking again, his face pale and green all at once.

It’s clearly a charm. The intentional color of the thread wrapped around the small piece of paper and flower petal is easy to spot for any of us, but normal people would likely never notice it. She looks like she enjoys movies like Dead Poets Society and reads Jane Eyre every year for fun. Artsy. Studious. Beautiful. Her smile reminds me of sunshine breaking over a foggy fall morning. Her eyes are evergreen, like the older pines in ancient forests, deep hues mixed with wisdom from so many years of seasonal changes.

Shit. Apparently, I’ve been staring too long and I’ve earned suspicious glares from Maddox and Thorne.

Fox drops his helmet on the couch next to Thorne and takes another solitary moment with the image before giving Maddox his phone back. “It’s nothing. She probably didn’t even expect the love spell to work. You know how normal women are. They want their perfect love story and are willing to try whatever shit they see on Pinterest to get it.”

“Then she has untapped magic like we’ve never seen before because I can still feel her influence in the pit of my stomach.” Mads looks like he could wretch again.

“I’ve never felt any trace of magic on her.” Thorne’s jaw tightens, and I’m sure he’s fighting back the feeling of betrayal.

“What happened that has you so panicked? Did she threaten you?” I’m already tired of the guessing games. Whatever Maddox wants us to do about this situation won’t make sense to anyone outside the coven—or outside of this room.

“It wasn’t something she said or did . . . but my whole being was calling out to her. Everything about her made me want to permanently fuse my skin to hers. Before I even introduced myself, she took over my every thought.” He rakes his hands through his hair, the ashy blond waves falling back into place stubbornly when his fingers relax to clasp the back of his neck.

“Sounds like your dick had more to do with that than she did.” Fox rolls his eyes. “Just don’t go out with her. Sounds like she’s looking for a husband before she graduates and already decided Thorne wasn’t the one if she’s resorting to The Craft type shit.”

“It was real. I felt it,” Maddox insists, the aggression in his tone prickling in the air.

“Let’s say it is.” Fox holds up his hands in mock surrender. “If we agree with you, what do you want us to do about it? Hunt her down and threaten to do unspeakable things to her if she keeps using magic she likely has no idea how to wield? Little Miss Wednesday Addams would have us locked up for sure.”

“I don’t think the Addams Family were magical,” Thorne pipes up from the corner of the desk.

“Sorry, my bad. Maybe she’s more of a Willow Rosenberg style witch. All groovy and loving.”

“Until she gets pissed and goes dark on our asses.” I finish the thought for Fox, whether it’s needed or not.

For me, Dark Willow and Vampire Willow sit at the top of the hottest Buffy character list, next to Faith and Spike. From the quick glimpse of Elsbeth, she’d look hot with those vengeful, soulless eyes, but saying that part out loud won’t deescalate the panic for Maddox.

“This whole harvest has been off. First, Thorne says their name during his trance, and now this chick is out here being a Venus flytrap,” Maddox spouts off, pacing again.

“Or you’re particularly raw and susceptible to beginner charms right now with all the extra magic flowing through you,” Thorne counters. “We need to divide what we’ve reaped amongst the families. We’ll all be calmer when we can actually rest.”

That action entails the leaders of each family to gather in a circle of protection and in turn take from our metaphorical overflowing cups. It should have happened the day after our ritual, but with the threat of less and less magic being transmitted from our ancestors and the old gods, we’ve been reluctant the last few rituals to transfer so quickly. Mostly due to the weakening effect it has on the four of us. Not that I want to share my concerns right now, but Alric’s dimwitted threats this week have all the red flags flying.

“What about the Spelmen-Hawthorne line?” Fox asks what I’m thinking.

Thorne answers after a long pause. “He’s a dickhead, but Alric is still an important part of the coven and he needs magic for his own protection.”

“Remind me why he’s important?” I challenge. We all feel this way and have our whole lives. But recently, lineage loyalty has gotten to Thorne when it comes to Alric’s irritating presence.

Thorne’s head falls back, his exhaustion from defending his distant uncle clearly hitting a brick wall. He doesn’t deserve to take the brunt of our hatred for that man, but he’s also the only one stopping us from helping Alric on his abandoned pursuit of the grim reaper. I miss the days when Alric spent his time devising plans to end his exceptionally long life. There’s a rumor that it was high-voltage electrocution that changed his mind. That he might have actually stopped his own heart for several minutes and whatever was waiting for him on the other side had scared him enough to make his new mission in life to rule over the East Coast coven.

Personally, I think he got bored. Alric’s a drama queen who needs an opposer, and when death was no longer a thrilling chase, he turned to the current line of legacies.

“We can’t give up an ounce of it until we know why Elsbeth’s Pinterest magic was so powerful,” Maddox stresses again.