Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 171450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 857(@200wpm)___ 686(@250wpm)___ 572(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 857(@200wpm)___ 686(@250wpm)___ 572(@300wpm)
“I have enough magic for a few more portals,” Kierse said.
Walter mumbled something obscene under his breath before coming to the center of the room. His magic sparked in intensity, a golden glow filling the room as the scent of incense and rainstorms wafted from him.
His force field snapped into place around them, a dome that covered their heads, keeping anyone inside from getting out. She touched the dome with her hand, her absorption settling around, and watched it pass right through. Well, almost anyone.
She dropped her absorption and pushed again. This time, the force field held. She shook her hand out with a grunt. She hated that. The feeling of being trapped. A thief’s worst nightmare.
“Do it,” he grunted, clenching his jaw as he held his magic tight for what felt like the five hundredth time that day.
Kierse focused again on her portaling, which was coming easier and easier to her. Walter might not have been getting better at force fields, but Kierse could portal anywhere she’d ever been in Manhattan by now.
She drew the door. Her hand trembled as she reached for it and felt the effort Walter put in to try to keep her out. Her hand went to the handle, and she slipped it open with ease. Her eyes settled on a view of the Highline before she let it dissolve. Walter’s force field crumbled with it.
“We are fucked,” he said, flopping back.
Kierse patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll keep working on it. It’s only been a few days.”
“Halloween is right around the corner,” Walter huffed. “Three weeks is not enough time to learn new magic. I don’t know if I could learn something like this in three years normally! I’m not a master warlock. I’m not a will-o’-the-wisp. I’m not…Graves.”
“Not with that attitude,” she said, offering him her hand.
He put his in hers and accepted the help to stand. “I’m calling it for now. I need a shower before this meeting.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” he said, waving her off.
She watched him go with a sigh, scooping her phone back up and heading downstairs for her own shower. Graves came into the bathroom when she was blow drying her hair.
He landed a kiss on her shoulder as he passed. “How was training?”
Kierse set down the blow dryer. “Same as before. Walter doesn’t believe in himself.”
“Hmm,” he said, turning her into him and giving her a kiss. “He’ll get there.”
“That’s what I told him. He doesn’t think it’s enough time. That he wouldn’t normally learn this in years, let alone weeks.”
“He’s probably right,” Graves mused, “but we had to do it or we’re fucked.”
She nodded. That was much what she and Walter had been going around and around about. “Where were you last night, anyway? I woke up and you were gone.”
“Just took care of some business,” he said, pulling back to meet her gaze.
She arched an eyebrow. “Do you prefer to do your wicked business alone?”
“I’m going down my list from the party. Would you like to come along when I find the next name?”
“Yes.” Her skin tingled. His list. He was killing people who had wronged him. Why did that entice her so? Competence was so sexy.
“Noted.”
Kierse heard voices from the stairs as Graves reached for her, and she expertly dodged his grasp, hurrying out of the bedroom.
“Hey!” Kierse said with a smile as Niamh, Ethan, and Gen came to the second-floor landing. Ethan was carrying a large cardboard box. “Is that what I think it is?”
“I got the printer in Brooklyn to agree to a small batch of merch!” Gen said enthusiastically. “Look, look!”
Gen dove into the box of supplies, looking at it from the side of her vision where it was the best. She pulled out a T-shirt with a picture of Anne Boleyn on the front. The cat lounged backward, her tail swished upward. Somehow, she’d captured her in all of her glory.
“It’s perfect.” Kierse took it from her and pulled the shirt on as she walked toward the library.
“Looks good,” Niamh said.
“I went for Team Holly,” Ethan said, gesturing to his shirt.
“He pitched a fit,” Gen corrected. She pulled out a baseball hat and mug. “For Walter!”
“He’s going to love them.”
“Wait, did you make merch?” Lyra asked, coming up behind them. “Holy fuck, do I actually get an Anne Boleyn shirt?”
“Yes! I got yours cropped. Since you know your style.”
“You’re a goddess.” Lyra tugged her shirt over her head, unabashedly gorgeous just in a black bra, before pulling the cropped cat shirt on. “I’m going to live in this.”
They carried the box into the library, and Walter lit up at the sight of the baseball cap.
“Thank God other people are here,” Walter said, throwing the cap on his head. “Between the endless training and pretending to not hear Graves and Kierse fucking all over the house…”