“He drove me home after you ditched me.”
She winced. “I totally did. I’m sorry. I kind of short-circuited. I was so pissed at him.”
“It’s okay. I get it.”
“So he drove you home and set your kitchen on fire. My brother is such a gentleman. You know what I’m going to do? When I get my magic back, that is.”
“I suggest you do nothing.”
“I’m going to give him boils. All over his ass.”
“That might be a bit harsh.”
“Better than that fungus thing he threatened to do to me! Did you see Gunnar’s face afterward?” She shuddered.
“Has Gunnar turned up?”
“Nope. And fungus is nothing compared to what Crowe’s gonna do when he does. At this point I wonder if Gunnar’s just gone into hiding to save that pretty mug of his. Can’t say I blame him.”
We spent the better part of the ride complaining about Crowe and bitching about Katrina and the other girls Crowe had gone out with, and it felt ridiculously good. I liked that Alex was on my side. She wasn’t just mad that he’d made me bind her magic—she was also pissed that he’d forced me to cast in front of everyone. “I mean, I know you can, Jem, but it was such a dick move the way he did it.”
I closed my eyes. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to.”
“But you did,” she murmured. “I can’t feel my magic at all. I’ve got nothing, Jem.”
My eyes popped open and I turned to her. She was frowning as she stared through the windshield. “I’m sure it’ll wear off soon,” I said. The guilt was back. “Do you want me to…?”
I wasn’t sure I could undo the binding I’d placed on her, and dread squirmed in my gut at the thought of trying, but for her, I would.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Maybe tomorrow when the formal stuff begins? Tonight I just want to get drunk and party. Don’t need magic for that!”
I grinned, relief sweet on my tongue. “Sounds like a plan.”
The Kindled Festival was taking place this year on two hundred acres that the Medicis owned. It was the same property that the cottage and the Schoolhouse sat on, but the festival would be set up far enough away from both places that no one would wander to them. The grounds were bound on three sides by thick woods with a single one-lane road running through to the old abandoned logging mill at the edge of the Medici land, on the bank of the Sable.
The property would give everyone the privacy they craved and needed to be using so much magic away from the drecks, especially in a town as small as Hawthorne. Drecks might notice an influx of “tourists”—there would be at least four thousand people attending this year, according to Crowe’s mom—but that was all they would notice. For the most part, the kindled coming into town would be sleeping in tents or campers on the property, and those who didn’t care for camping would stay in hotels outside of town.
Lori had done most of the planning for the festival, which meant she’d coordinated all the logistics, and hired a bunch of stronger people—mostly Devils—to do the hard labor for her. Last-minute preparations were still under way when Alex and I arrived. A huge tent had been erected in what would likely be the center of the gathering. The roof rose to a pointed steeple with a Medici banner flapping from a short flagpole. The flag depicted a crow with its wings spread, clutching a human skull with its talons. A gold dagger pierced the skull through the left eye socket.
The Medicis had never been known for their subtlety.
Smaller tents in shades of gray, red, and white dotted the rest of the field as far as the eye could see. Each had its own banner: Some bore family symbols, and others were club logos. I could see the Deathstalker scorpion flying above a tent at the very end of the path right at the edge of the woods, and wondered if Lori had deliberately put them as far from the Devils as she could.
On the south side of the property, also near the tree line, a large fire pit had been built, with benches and chairs circling it. The chairs were empty, but by tonight, people would be fighting for a place to sit. And in case of rain, I was pretty sure either Lori or her brother Boone were ready to use their terra magic to make sure the grounds weren’t hit by a single stray drop.
Somewhere in the maze of tents, metal rang out against metal, followed by a string of curse words. We tracked the sound to a white tent in the far back corner of the field and ducked inside to find Crowe hammering away at a tent support with a massive sledgehammer.
Lori stood over his shoulder supervising. “You have to hit it harder,” she said.
“Ma.” He straightened and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his T-shirt. “If I drive it in any farther, I’ll fucking bury it.”
“Don’t talk back to me.”
Though Crowe’s eyes were hidden behind a dark pair of vintage sunglasses, I could tell he was glaring at her by the deep V of his brow. “I have people for this,” he said, slightly breathless, his shoulders heaving. “And I have shit to do.”
“I do, too,” Lori countered. “Now get back to work. The tent is sagging in the middle.”
I glanced up. The tent looked fine to me.
“If they aren’t secure, they’ll collapse with a puff of wind,” Lori added.
“Can’t you make sure that doesn’t happen?” asked Alex.
Lori put her hands on her hips. “I can’t be everywhere at once!”
“Lori!” someone shouted outside.
“I gotta go. Don’t cause trouble,” she said, pointing a finger at each of her kids before hurrying off to solve whatever problem had arisen.
“So are you two pests gonna behave tonight?” Crowe said casually, the sledgehammer resting on the ground by his boot. Without missing a beat, Alex said, “Why? You planning to threaten us with fungus again?” She dropped her mouth open and clapped a hand over it. “Oh, wait. Or maybe you’ll go full asshole and threaten to have Jemmie bind my magic?” Her hand fell away, revealing a sneer. “Been there, done that.”
“Careful, little sis.” Now his teeth were gritted. “I’ve had a shitty day and if you add more shit to it—”
“You’ll leave scorch marks all over our houses?” she countered.
Crowe glanced at me, and I was glad he was wearing the sunglasses. I was glad I was wearing sunglasses, so I could pretend I wasn’t looking right at him. Secrets were paramount with Crowe, and apparently this had been one he thought we’d silently agreed to keep. I hadn’t told anyone, but somehow everyone seemed to know. Why? Because the scorch mark was evidence I couldn’t hide. That was Crowe’s fault, not mine.
Still, somehow, in some way, I felt like I’d betrayed him.
“Come on,” I said, and grabbed Alex by the arm, dragging her from the tent and into the daylight.
Crowe followed us out. “You’re pissed,” he said. “I get it. But you have no one to blame but yourself. And pulling something like that on Katrina in the first place? That was just shitty.”
Alex set her hands on her hips. Her dark hair, caught by the wind, whipped around her shoulders. She looked fiery and dangerous. I loved her when she was like this, like a storm cloud threatening to rain hell. And I had no doubt she could pull it off, if raining hell was what she wanted.
“Why do you care so much about Katrina’s feelings?” Alex challenged. “She’s just one of four or five you’re stringing along, am I right?”
Crowe ran his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip, and I took a step back.
Sometimes I wondered if there was more behind Crowe and Alex’s animosity, some other discord between sister and brother that I wasn’t privy to, that Alex stoked by defending me. Crowe seemed to have an ongoing feud with everyone right now. Or at least everyone who wasn’t his subordinate. The Devils’ League members were in his good graces because they took his orders without question. Alex and me, not so much.