“Is he, now? Gods help those baby warlocks he decides to unleash himself upon.” Willem smirks.
“He’s going to teach familiars,” Reggie continues, defending me. Her expression is fierce. “And you need to stop disparaging him in front of me, because I won’t sit here and listen to it. You either talk to him like a respected ally and a friend, or you fucking leave.”
Willem stares at Reggie. I do, too. No one has ever defended me like that. Aunt Dru has always been a big believer in fighting your own battles, but for someone to stand up to Willem because he was making mild comments about me? I’m filled with a rush of awed affection. She’s defending me, and I love her even more for that simple gesture.
“Yes, well, did you want my assistance or not?” Willem gives me a dismissive look. “Because I have other things to do with my time.”
“Apparently not if you’re going out of your way to meet us first thing this morning,” Reggie retorts, practically bristling.
I slide my hand into her lap and take her hand, squeezing it. “It’s all right. We do want his help.” I glance over at Willem, who is flushed almost as red as his hair. Reggie’s sharp, though. Willem is rather eager to help us. “But I suppose that begs the question, what do you want?”
Willem just picks up his coffee and sips it again, as if considering how much information to expose to us. “I know exactly where Abernathy is. You can talk to him tomorrow, if needed. I’ll arrange the meeting. I know you’re in a time crunch. But yes, I suppose I do want something.”
Of course he does. Everyone always wants something. “And?” I prompt.
His gaze falls back to Reggie’s braceleted wrist, the one still on the table. Her other hand is in her lap, tightly clenched in mine. “I need a familiar,” Willem admits. “I still have ten years to go on my ban, and I’m tired of it. I need help finding a familiar that won’t mind working . . . under the table, so to speak. Outside of the Society of Familiars. And since you found your rogue familiar through unconventional means, I thought you could help me find one, as well.”
I stiffen the moment he mentions that he wants a familiar. For a brief, ugly moment, I imagine a third bracelet on Reggie’s slender wrists, and hot jealousy roars through me. It takes a moment for the rest of Willem’s words to sink in—that he wants help finding a familiar of his own, not that he wants Reggie. I breathe after that.
No one gets Reggie but me.
Reggie leans over to me, her expression neutral. She indicates I should lean over, and when I do, she whispers in my ear, her breath ticklish. “I bet Penny would do it.”
“She’s in the society,” I remind her.
She shakes her head. “She’s also been waiting a very long time and is eager to get started. She might be waiting another ten years if she goes by the society’s rules. I’ll talk to her, but I bet she’d do it.”
I remember the excitable, friendly woman at the component shop. Willem would absolutely loathe her. Which means it’s perfect. “Reggie has someone in mind,” I tell Willem. “We’ll speak with her once Aunt Dru is recovered.”
Willem’s face reveals a hint of surprise, quickly masked. “Is that so? Fascinating.” He pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket. “There’s a party at this house tomorrow night. A celebration of scholars, if you will. Abernathy is going to be there.”
Reggie snatches the piece of paper and then hands it to me. I don’t recognize the address, but I can guess what a “celebration of scholars” entails. Group casting. Everyone brings their familiar, and together they cast a powerful spell of some kind. It’s both dinner party and business, all in one, and I should be surprised that the reclusive Abernathy is going to take part in it . . . but Abernathy does love to learn new spells.
If we’re going, we’re going to have to dress the part. I resist the urge to groan in frustration, because this is helpful—it’s just not exactly what I wanted.
“Are you going to this party?” Reggie asks, glancing at me before looking back at Willem.
His smile is tight and slightly unpleasant. “No familiar, so I’m not invited.”
“Oh.” Reggie looks over at me, and I can practically read her thoughts. “Then we—”
“We’re going,” I say firmly. They’ll judge my relationship with her, but I don’t care. They’ll think I’m making designs on stealing my aunt’s familiar, but if it means saving my aunt’s life, I’ll take another hit to my already tattered reputation. It doesn’t matter. Aunt Dru would do the same for me, so I’ll do it for her, no question. “It’ll be fine.”
“Perfect,” Willem says. “I look forward to hearing from you two about the status of my future familiar.” And he takes another elegant sip of his coffee, the arrogant prick. “Do tell my old master I said hello.”
REGGIE
I’m a little worried about all of this. We know where to find this Abernathy guy, but it’s not his particular contact information, just the address of a party he’ll be at. It means Ben and I have to go to that party. It means everyone’s going to see that I’m wearing his bracelet, just like Willem did, and they’re all going to think bad things about Ben. That he’s stealing me. That he’s responsible for his aunt’s curse.
I don’t like it, but what other choice do we have?
I stew on this even as we take the long drive back to Aunt Dru’s house. Lisa’s been there at Dru’s side ever since we left, and even though we’ve been checking in with her via texts and phone calls, it’ll still be good for us to go to the house and see if we can help out in any way. Ben’s going to try casting a few more spells to see if he can determine anything. And I’m going to find a dress for the party. Somehow. “I’m not sure if I have anything appropriate,” I tell Ben for probably the third time today. “I’m not a very dressy girl.”
“Don’t you have a black dress?” He shrugs. “It’s fine. You’ll look beautiful in anything.”
I guess it doesn’t matter, but I also don’t want to be an embarrassment for him. “Maybe I can run to the store,” I say as we pull toward Aunt Dru’s house. “See if I can find something appropriate for . . .” I trail off as a familiar Volkswagen van comes into sight. It’s parked on the curb in front of Dru’s house, and my heart starts to pound at the sight of it.
“For?” Ben prompts.
I’m not listening. I’m staring in horror at the beat-up old van. I recognize the foil over the back window, the faded pink dye job, the junk shoved into the back since it serves as a mobile home as well as a van. Oh god. Oh god.
Ben parks in the driveway, and the moment the car stops, I launch myself out of it, racing toward the van—and my parents. It doesn’t matter that I’m wearing damp, slightly muddy clothing from yesterday’s well incident. It doesn’t matter that I have half a dozen hickeys on my neck and that they’re sure to comment on it.
I have to stop them. I have to get rid of them. Now.
As I fly toward their van, my parents emerge from inside. Mom slinks out of the passenger side, and Dad steps out from behind the wheel. They look the same as they ever did. Mom’s got her long hair pulled back into loose blond dreads held back by a scarf, and Dad’s salt-and-pepper beard is long and bushy. They both wear flowing clothing, and the stink of patchouli and incense wafts toward me. “What are you doing here?”
“Regina,” my mother cries, extending her arms out. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you!”
I come to an abrupt halt a few feet away from them, because I’m torn between wanting to shove my mother right back into that van and falling into her arms, like the lonely child I was. “How did you find out where I am?”
“Your boyfriend, Nick, gave us your new address. Said you were living here?” My father’s voice is jovial. “Looks like you’re doing quite well for yourself, Little Button. Good to see. Good to see.”