Page 9 of Mage Massacres

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“I didn’t even think of the connection,” Vaughn muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been working with him for years.”

I searched my memories of the factory floor that Vaughn had been in charge of. “The older guy that was working beside you?”

“Yeah. He’s been at CBP for nearly forty years.” Vaughn told me. “He was offered the supervisor role but denied it, saying he didn’t want the added stress.”

“Godsdamnit,” I grumbled, heading into the pantry to grab some chocolate to sweeten my mood. “These motherfuckers are everywhere and nowhere at the same fucking time.”

“I feel the same way,” Franklin acknowledged. “If you need anything, I’ll be around Belfast for a few days to meet with an old associate.”

I dipped my head. “Thank you, Franklin.”

“Are ya bringin’ the hounds and Pete?” Palmer asked, watching as the ancient vampire strode toward the garage once more.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?” I returned, filling my empty mug once more.

“I was hoping ye were. I’d like to see what Pete thinks of the Causeway,” Palmer explained, losing me in that last word.

“The what?”

“The Giant’s Causeway. There’s a ton of folklore surrounding it, and I’ve been curious after reading those books you brought home from Hell.”

I padded to the back door, my hands snuggly gripping my coffee mug as I soaked in the warmth. A single whistle left my lips, and mere seconds passed before my hellhounds bayed in the distance. I watched through Helios’s eyes as Cronus gave up his chase, sparing a tiny, gray rabbit for another day.

As the boys approached the patio, I turned them into the butterflies I'd become so fond of. I loved the dainty look of them before they turned into raging beasts. Red, blue, black, and finally yellow filled my vision as they each settled in my hair.

I shut the door, flipping the lock as I faced my guys. “I’m ready when you are. We don’t need to take anything with us. We shouldn’t have a problem spelling the doorways at Amelia’s house like we did in the cabin.”

Palmer stared at me for a solid thirty seconds. “Is that what yer wearing?”

I looked down at my shorts, wondering if my mage had lost his fucking mind while he was dead. “I’m sorry. What would you prefer me to wear?”

He used the heel of his right palm to rub at his cheek. “That didn’t come out right.”

“Oh, I know.”

“How was it supposed to sound, Mage? Enlighten us,” Stone teased.

“It’s just... Ya know what? Wear the shorts. Ye’ll see when we get there.”

I didn’t reply, opting for a silent retreat. My mood was unstable, and the last thing I wanted was to start an argument for no reason.

The frigid winds inside the Void washed over my exposed skin, grounding me for a few precious moments. This was all the time I’d get before I opened the old wounds from my missing mother.

Today required way more emotions than I was prepared to handle.

I briefly wished the metaphorical gut punches would stop. Maybe the universe could just stab me and get the torture over with quicker.

I stepped out of the Void, popping into a vaguely familiar foyer. My mother had a beautiful home with an old-world vibe to it. The air smelled of dried herbs and ancient books, and it crackled against my skin as if it were electrified.

I took a moment to breathe in my surroundings, feeling a slight pang in my chest for the things that could have been. I wondered which of the rooms in this house would have been mine, or if Amelia would have chased me down the halls as a toddler.

My body shivered, suddenly hyper-aware of the chill around me. By the massive wooden door, it was so cold that I thought I could see my breath fog in front of my face. The electricity that danced over my exposed arms and legs turned into tingles from the draft.

All of my winter clothing was packed up and half a world away, which was irksome. I wouldn’t even know where it was without pulling entire boxes of shit to me so that I could search through it. Instead of all that work, I pushed a sliver of hellfire to the surface of my skin, hoping to warm myself until I could find a fireplace and suitable attire.

I’d missed the memo about shorts being a bad idea.