“Who’s with Drusilla right now?” Penny asks.
“Lisa is. She’s there with her husband, since she can’t open any doors for herself and she’s a million years pregnant. They’re moving into the house temporarily to help out until we get things figured out.” I’ve given them my room and relegated myself to the sofa. “It’ll give me and Ben time to look for a solution, but for starters, we need these spell components to cast some obfuscation spells so no one curses me while we’re working on saving Dru.” I hold the list out to her. It’s one that Ben hastily dictated to me this morning before we rushed over here, full of all kinds of bizarre things in large quantities. “Can you help us?”
Penny’s eyes light up with pure joy. “It would be my pleasure!” She practically snatches the list from me. “If you guys need a familiar for Caliban, maybe I could fill in . . . ? It would be good practice for me. I know he’s evil, but they’re the best spellcasters. Think of how good that’d look on my résumé. And when a position from the society comes open—”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “I’m helping him since Dru doesn’t need me right now.”
Penny beams. “Of course. That makes sense. I’ll be right back!” She races off with the list, thrilled to be of assistance. I feel oddly guilty. Penny has been such a good friend and is always willing to help, but the moment she mentioned being Ben’s familiar, even temporarily, some ugly part of me reared up.
I didn’t like it. One bit.
I’m not jealous. I’m not. Ben’s a murderer and a warlock and a bad guy, and I shouldn’t give a crap—but I do. For some reason, I don’t like the thought of someone else spending those intimate moments with Ben. Maybe it’s because my brain is still messed up over him and considers him mine even though it shouldn’t.
My phone pings with an incoming text, and I bite back a groan. It could be Lisa or Nick or any number of terrible things. I’m starting to dread when my phone goes off, because it never brings good news. Instead of checking it, I look over at Ben. He’s staring at some of the CBD posters on the walls, his brows knit together as if he’s trying to grasp why someone would drink a CBD-infused sports drink. As I look over, a stream of blood drips down one of his fingers and onto the floor.
Something in my heart clenches. I move to his side. “Ben, you’re bleeding.”
He lifts his hand, adjusts the loose, soaked bandage there, and shrugs. “It’ll heal.”
I don’t like how blasé he is about the wound. He’s been quiet all morning, and I know he has to be worried about Dru. I remind myself that no matter how much affection I feel for her, she’s ten times more important to Ben. She’s his blood aunt, his sole living relative, and they’ve known each other for centuries. He has to be torn up inside. Aching for him, I reach out and touch his shoulder. “Come sit down in Penny’s break room and let me look after you.”
Ben turns and gives me a wary look, like a wounded animal. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. Let me take care of you.”
“Why?”
Because I want to. “Because you’re making a mess.”
He glances down at the floor, where he’s leaving a tiny puddle of red. “I see.”
I tug on his sleeve and he lets me pull him along. “We’re going to the break room, Penny,” I call out. “I’ll watch the front for you.”
“Sounds good,” Penny chirps back, her voice muffled. “I’m just going to pull some full-moon-gathered sphagnum moss from deep storage! Be back in a jiffy!”
I steer Ben toward the only seat in the tiny break room. There’s a small fridge next to the sink, a wall is covered with Occupational Safety and Health Administration posters hastily tacked up, and the shelves are absolutely laden with boxes of CBD supplements and samples of all kinds in no particular order, shoved together and overflowing. It’s a cluttery mess that makes my teeth ache at the sight of it, but I don’t have time to get Penny all straightened out right now. I fix a stern glare on Ben. “Don’t move from this spot.”
After I clean up the blood spilled in the store with a few wads of Kleenex and paper towels, I grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and head into the bathroom of the small store, opening cabinets and looking for a first aid kit. Oh god, the small bathroom is worse than the break room, but I clench my jaw, determined to ignore it, even though my skin practically crawls with how disorganized this all is. I fetch the first aid kit quickly. When I step back into the break room, Ben gives me an odd look.
“What?” I ask.
“This girl.” He nods at Penny. “How is she your friend with this disaster on her hands?” He gestures with his good hand at the clutter of boxes, and I can’t help but notice there are several boxes in the corner stacked atop one another—crushing one another—with no labels on them. The sight makes my hands itch. “How do you let this go on under your nose without trying to go Marie Kondo on her?”
Is he teasing me? I give him my very best scowl, fighting back the urge to laugh. “I don’t organize everyone, thank you.”
He snorts. “Yes, you do.”
I glare at him. “I should ask how a five-hundred-year-old warlock knows about Marie Kondo.” I don’t point out that Tidying Up with Marie Kondo is my favorite show or that the reveals always bring me to tears. Confessing that might be a little too on-brand, even for me.
“I’m not a mummy, Reggie. I’m just long-lived.”
My lips twitch. “I actually haven’t had a chance to help Penny straighten up in here. It’s on my list of things to do after I finish the library.” I take his hand in mine and gently pull the soaked bandages free. They’re sticking to his wound in one spot and completely loose in another. “And I do like a tidy workspace.”
“You’d like her show.” When I give him a look, he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “You know I don’t have a lot of friends. I spend most nights either reading or watching TV.”
Oddly enough, I know how that is. Other than Nick and now Penny, I tend to rub people the wrong way. Most don’t get my obsessive need to control the space around me, my hunger for tidiness and organization. Most friendly working relationships sour quickly once people find me in their closets, sorting their shirts by color. It does make me sad for Ben, though. Five hundred years is an awful long time to be lonely. It’s his own fault, though, but I don’t point that out. Instead, I say, “You didn’t bind your hand very well.”
“We were in a hurry. It’s fine.”
It’s not, but I suspect Ben has never had anyone beyond Aunt Dru to fuss over him, and it makes me sad all over again. Not just for Dru, but for him. “Do you think we’ll be able to help Dru, Ben?”
“I do,” he says firmly. “Simply because I won’t allow myself to think of the alternative.”
I nod. I know that feeling. I open a packet of antiseptic gel and dab it on his cut. “Did you have to slash your entire hand open? I get that it’s dramatic, but now you’ve got this massive gash in the center of your palm. It seems more than a little ridiculous.”
“The gods like a good show” is all he says.
I purse my lips, but I guess he knows more about that sort of thing than I do. He didn’t think twice when it came to Dru, either. Just boom, hack the hand open to try to help her. I could say a lot of things about Ben, but he’s definitely devoted. I dab the gel into the wound, wincing in sympathy when he tenses. Touching him like this, with my fingers on his, and me seated so close to him, reminds me of last night, when I was practically sprawled in his lap while we kissed. I’m just as much to blame for what happened between us as he is. I was the one that pushed into his space, and when it became obvious that he wasn’t thinking about the card anymore, I encouraged more between us.