“Once or twice,” Ryder said. He swallowed hard and fiddled with his keys. His magic jumped under his skin, clawing its way through ligaments and joints to get to the surface. “It’s not like an owl’s any less cliché.”
As if on cue, Opal landed on the railing of the outdoor staircase. She chirped at them pleasantly, ruffling her cream feathers to shake off the rain.
“He didn’t mean that,” Liam said to Opal. He lifted Percy into his arms and stood, gaze lingering on Ryder for long enough to make his heart beat a little bit faster. “You gonna stand there or can we go inside?”
Ryder offered his arm to Opal. She hopped onto his forearm, then his shoulder. “Do you want tea?”
Liam didn’t answer. He followed Ryder into his dark apartment. The smell of sage and wax filled the space, left over from their reading that morning. Opal flew off Ryder’s shoulder and landed on the bookshelf next to a thriving green fern. Percy’s paws hit the wood floor. Ryder turned the lock on the door and hesitated, staring down at the doorknob while he tried to gather his thoughts.
There was breath on the back of his neck. Liam’s energy squirmed around them, frantic and busy. Heat bloomed in Ryder’s stomach, but he could barely control it.
When he finally mustered enough courage to turn around, Liam’s wide hand hit his chest and shoved him against the door. Ryder reached for his magic and stitched it into a glamour, covering the pink scars that curved from his sternum over his ribcage on either side. A coat and shirt covered them, but his glamour was an old, comfortable habit.
Everything narrowed down to the sweep of Liam’s dark eyelashes and his mouth tightening into a thin line.
“We tethered?” Liam snapped. A card was pinched between his thumb and index finger. He flashed it in front of Ryder. The Lovers. “I’ve pulled this fucking card three times today.”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Ryder said softly. He tried to look elsewhere, but Liam wouldn’t permit it. Every time Ryder turned away, Liam leaned into his line of sight.
“Our reading isn’t a joke. We’re going to do something terrible together. Don’t you get that?”
“How do you know it’ll be terrible? What makes something terrible?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” A breath left Liam, winded and small. He pressed harder on Ryder’s chest.
“You have eyes, don’t you? C’mon, I wasn’t that subtle.” Ryder’s blush betrayed his attempt at confidence.
“No, you weren’t,” Liam agreed. One brow quirked and he licked his bottom lip. Ryder pretended not to notice. “A fatal union, Ry. A shift in your magic, a partnership that will result in chaos or…”
“Or,” Ryder purred and tried to smile.
Liam snarled. “This isn’t as simple as that. We’re going to… This is dark, Ryder.”
“You scared?”
“Maybe.”
“Of which part, me or the magic?”
Liam’s lips pressed down and his brow furrowed. “Do you understand what this could mean? What you could be? What we’re going to—”
Anger flared in Ryder. His magic burst from him, crackling in the air, turning the static energy upside down.
“What I could be?” Ryder hissed. A thousand cries and screams erupted beneath his voice. They slithered from him, haunting and horrible. The voice of a necromancer. He felt the moment his pupils bled over the rest of his eyes, showing the truth of him, the dangerous, wicked, unnatural part of him. Steam built in his mouth and drifted over his lips. “We’re going to what, Liam?”
Liam’s eyes widened. His magic surged like a crashing wave. It was cold and ancient, pure and protective. Ryder wanted to tear it apart. He wanted to hide, to push Liam out the door and lock himself in his room. Everything inside him twisted and roared, looking for a way out. He’d never wanted Liam to see this; he’d never wanted anyone to see it.
“You’re…” Liam stepped back. His throat bobbed when he swallowed.
Ryder’s chest was cold where Liam’s hand had been. “Yeah,” he spat. He shouldered past Liam and unbuttoned his coat with trembling fingers. The heat on his skin made his head spin. “Yeah, I am.”
“But you’re a Lewellyn,” Liam whispered.
“My mom had an affair with Gerard Wolfe.”
“Jordan’s dad? So, Jordan’s your…”
“Yeah.” Ryder snapped his teeth down. He didn’t bother turning the lights on, and draped his coat over the back of the couch once it was off. He walked past the kitchen, down the hall, and into his bedroom. Percy watched from the ottoman. Opal cooed curiously and flapped her wings.
Liam didn’t immediately follow.
Ryder’s lungs ached. His mouth quivered as he paced back and forth in front of his disheveled bed. Clothes were piled in the corner. A few plants sat in baskets next to the window. His altar was on the other end of his room, a repurposed vanity crowded with half-burnt incense, different colored candles, sage leaves, and open spell books. He snapped his fingers and the candles lit.
His skin still burned. “Fuck,” Ryder panted. His magic raged in the room and inside him. He ripped off his shirt and tossed it away before snapping his fingers again. The tip of two incense sticks smoldered.
“Ryder.” Liam’s voice sounded from the doorway.
Ryder dipped into the attached bathroom and flicked on the light. The brightness stung. He winced at his reflection in the mirror, black-eyed, with steam rising from his skin. His palms hit the countertop and he exhaled a deep, hot breath.
Liam’s reflection appeared behind him. His expression hardened and he tilted his head, eyes darting across Ryder in the mirror.
“Just go,” Ryder said, whimpered and tender.
“Your magic is at odds with itself. The fire in you is fighting with the…”
“You can say it.”
“Necromancy in you.” Liam said necromancy carefully, sounding out all four syllables with the utmost respect. The carefulness was expected, the respect was a surprise. “Have you… Did you…?”
“No,” Ryder whispered. “Do you see any sigils?” He gestured over his bare torso. “Jordan said if I don’t start bloodletting, this will get worse.” He blinked at himself and flexed his jaw.
Liam’s water magic was fluid and coaxing. It drifted around them, rippling the energy. The familiarity made Ryder’s shoulders droop. His body unwound and he decompressed, trying to even out his breathing as the darkness inside him continued to make itself known.
“Just go,” Ryder repeated, exasperated.
The exposed bulbs above the mirror flickered. Liam’s fingertips touched the base of Ryder’s spine.
Everything was brilliant and blinding.
“When I pulled The Devil, I didn’t think it’d be you,” Liam said. His tongue ring clicked against his teeth.
Ryder’s eyes cinched shut. His voice grew into a symphony of voices. “Fuck you.”
Liam’s hand crept along Ryder’s vertebrae. “But then I pulled The Lovers.”
His hands shook on the countertop, knuckles white where he gripped the edge. Ryder chewed on his lip and resisted leaning back when Liam’s hand climbed up his spine.
“What do we have to do for the bloodletting?”
Ryder’s eyes snapped open. “We don’t have to do anything.”