“Did anyone ask you to do this?”
Reggie’s expression turns utterly crestfallen. “No.” When the silence stretches between us, she bites her lip. “Do you think Aunt Dru is going to be mad? I was . . . I was just trying to help.” She wrings her hands, all anxiety. “When I get upset, I organize. And today . . .” She trails off. “Never mind about today.”
She doesn’t need to tell me about today. I know everything that happened already, thanks to Willem. I glance around the destroyed library. “I suppose it’s dusty.”
“Very,” Reggie admits in a small voice. “And Aunt Dru is elderly, and I wasn’t sure if all this dust was healthy for her.”
I’m pretty sure it would take more than a cloud of dust to take down my aunt, but I say nothing. For some reason, it bothers me that Reggie’s now looking so uncertain, as if she has screwed up. I’d intended on coming in here to pick at her about the cleaning, expecting a fight. I much prefer a fighting Reggie to a worried one.
A worried one makes me feel like an utter ass.
I remain where I am, trying to think of something to say. My gaze falls to the stacks of books again. “Is this everything?”
“No.” Reggie’s tone is more miserable. “I put a lot of the contents temporarily into the music room, since it’s almost as dirty as this one.”
I grunt. “Aunt Dru’s not into music, no.”
She takes a shuddering breath and says in a quiet voice, “I really need this job.”
And she feels I might snatch it away from her? I’m offended . . . but then, isn’t that how I’ve been acting? Determined to get rid of her? Telling her she’s all wrong at every turn? And . . . she is. But I feel like an ass for being the one to make her so miserable. My aunt likes her. She’s loyal and hardworking and didn’t run her mouth about this afternoon, which shows she can be discreet. I suppose everything else can be learned.
I try to think of something to make that crushed expression leave her face. I clear my throat. “I have a list of components I need rounded up and a few books I’d like retrieved. When I stayed with my aunt before, Lisa would get them for me . . .”
Reggie nods. “Give me the list. I’ll have it to you by the morning, if that’s all right.” She gestures at the library. “It might take me a while to find something in all this.”
“I . . . Thank you.” I pull the list out of my pocket, handing it over to her. She still looks miserable, and for some reason, I can’t find it in me to leave just yet. “You seem like you’re having a bad day.”
She manages a forced smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Just envisioning what a day in jail would be like.”
“Jail? What happened?”
Reggie bites her lip again. “I shouldn’t discuss it.”
“Your loyalty is commendable, but I’ve already heard plenty through the grapevine.”
“Your aunt threw a sandwich at another woman’s mole,” she blurts out. “In public. I thought we were going to get arrested.”
“Ah.”
“That’s all you have to say?” Reggie seems surprised. She folds the list I handed her and remains standing close to me, her face tilted up to mine. “Just ‘ah’?”
I shrug. “Aunt Dru is . . . volatile at the best of times.”
The familiar is much taller than Aunt Dru, who has shrunk with age, but I don’t think Reggie has ever stood this close to me before. I can’t help but notice that her height makes her perfect to nestle in my arms . . . and now I’m disgusted with myself. First the obsession with her freckles, and now her height. I swallow hard, aware of her nearness. How she’s slightly sweaty, with tendrils of hair sticking to her forehead, her lips parted as she gazes up at me.
Desire stirs inside me, unwanted and surprising. This is worse than the freckles infatuation. When she looks at my mouth, her gaze pausing there, I feel . . . hungry.
And that’s wrong, because she’s my aunt’s new familiar. It’s hard enough to get one familiar, and my aunt just lost Lisa. I can’t take another familiar out of play. She’s forbidden.
She drags her gaze away from my mouth and looks up at me. “I’m going to clean the guest bedrooms next, by the way. There’s something in there that smells sour, and you’ll probably hear me knocking around if you’re staying for a few more days. Or should I wait until you leave?”
“You’re not a housekeeper,” I say softly, because she’s still standing close to me and my hand is twitching with the need to touch her.
Her gaze darts to the mess of the library as she considers my words. “It helps me focus. Makes me feel a little more in control of my situation. I don’t . . . I don’t like feeling out of control.”
I understand that all too well. I nod once, then turn to leave.
“Ben,” she calls softly, and it’s like electricity racing through my veins. Not Caliban. Not Magnus. Ben.
Even though I know it’s a mistake, I turn to look at her. Turn to see her soft expression as she gazes up at me. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. About hating you. You’re just being protective of your aunt, and I can’t dislike you for that.”
Her words are gentle, filled with apology. There’s a hint of a smile on her face that’s utterly lovely, her eyes shining as she looks at me. She’s beautiful. And she’s forbidden.
So I ruin it, like I ruin all nice things. “Are you saying this because you’re afraid I’ll cost you your job?” I make my tone deliberately cold, harsh. “Because the timing is awfully suspect.”
Reggie’s expression shutters, grows cold. She flinches and then forces a smile to her face to hide her feelings. “I was trying to be polite. You should give it a whirl.”
I can’t, because being polite to her leads me into dangerous territory. Far better off to remain as enemies. I just grunt. “See that you have that list done by the morning.”
And I turn around and leave, because if I stay, I’m going to lose my mind. Instead, I head out, down the hall, looking for my aunt. Her house is much larger than my brownstone back in Boston, and she’s got several secret rooms squirreled here and there. Dru might play at the feeble old woman, but she’s sharp as a tack and as sly as they come, and I wouldn’t be surprised if every room in her house had secret walls or hidden passages. I decide to check the basement first, since that’s where her working laboratory is. Apparently the one upstairs is “just for show.” The door leading to the basement is in the hall outside the kitchen, and I set my palm over the wards painted on the wood, letting the spell know that it’s me. There’s a pause, and then the door opens.
I head down the stairs. “Aunt Dru?”
“In here, darling.”
I find her in the laboratory, not at her potions table, but reading a magazine in a chair by the fireplace. I study the surroundings, because her laboratory hasn’t changed in the five hundred years since I’ve known her, despite the fact that she’s had many different houses and lived in multiple countries since then. There are always dusty shelves full of components, a few animal skulls (for “color,” my aunt says when asked about them), a few amulets hanging from the walls, a marble bust of her first husband leering down from one of the top shelves, and a big, heavy stone fireplace so she can employ a cauldron, if needed. A large wooden table covered in old potion stains dominates the room, and clusters of dried herbs hang from the ceiling. It’s a chaotic place, but familiar to me. I eye the magazine she’s reading—Better Homes and Gardens. It’s probably the neighbor’s. “Are you hiding down here?”
“Me? I would never.” She licks a finger and flicks a page.
“You’re hiding,” I decide.
Dru shakes her head. “The girl really does love to clean, doesn’t she? What a strange little creature.”