Page 84 of Her Dreadful Will
Failure. Selfish. Wicked.
“Soleil, no.” Achan’s palm pressed her back. “It’s not entirely selfish. Is it a blend of altruism and ambition? Maybe. But that’s what I’ve been trying to show you, to prove to you that nothing is perfectly, purely good or evil. Nothing tainted by humans, anyway. No matter how great your intentions are, a little selfishness is always going to creep in. And that’s okay. Healthy, even. Look at you, love—breaking under the knowledge that you’re not perfect.” He caught her hair, moving it aside and blowing lightly on the back of her sweaty neck. Her skin cooled and tightened under his breath. “It’s okay.”
“I’m no good at this, any of it,” she moaned. “No good as a witch.”
“That’s a straight-up lie.” He caught her shoulders and pulled her upright. “Given your powers, most people would be sitting pretty on millions of stolen dollars right now, surrounded by people they spelled into liking them. And what have you chosen to do with your magic? Kindness, and justice, and beauty. I can’t wait to see what you become, what you will do. You’re going to remake the damn world.”
“Sounds like you plan to stick around me for a while,” she whispered.
“Until you make me leave,” he said quietly.
Heat thickened between them—not the seductive, enticing kind, but actual tropic-level heat that seeped under the forest canopy and sagged, heavy and humid, in the air.
“It’s hot as hell,” Achan said. “You want to go get some ice cream?”
29
“I was wondering... I know you live a couple hours away, but could we get together soon? Coffee? Dinner? Girls’ night? Whatever you want.” Soleil sent the text to Angelou, and then cringed because it sounded too damn needy.
But within minutes Angelou replied, “Hell yes, I’m in for witchy girls’ night!”
“Sweet,” Soleil texted back. “Can we do my place? I have a house guest I need to keep an eye on.”
“Sure. Can I invite Sharee? I can pick her up on the way—she actually lives closer to you than I do.”
“I would love that.”
“Great! Of course if we do that, we should probably invite Delaney, too. She is the other member of the coven who is near-ish to where you live. I can’t promise she’ll come, or that she’ll be nice to you, but you gotta break that ice sometime.”
“She can come,” answered Soleil. “If you’ll do me a favor. I need to ask your opinion about a rare magical artifact.”
Angelou’s response came in a trio of GIFs obviously intended to reflect her extreme delight and interest. On Friday evening, she showed up with a smiling Sharee and a sour-faced Delaney in tow, just as the Chinese food arrived. Dumplings and noodles, spicy chicken and wine smoothed the way for a series of “my first magical encounter” anecdotes. Soleil sat tense and smiling, wondering what she should say when her turn came. She couldn’t tell the true nature of her magic, not yet. Angelou already knew; Florence probably suspected; but Delaney and Sharee—Soleil had no idea how they would react. With fear and revulsion, most likely.
But when it was Soleil’s turn to tell, she had barely opened her lips when Angelou intercepted, slamming a gigantic nail kit onto the coffee table. “All right, girls—we’re doing manicures, witch-style. Choose your sigils. You too, Florence.”
Florence plucked at the collar of her blouse with wrinkled fingers. “Well, I don’t know—”
“You can’t refuse. It’s a time-honored girls’ night cliché. And you’re a cognizant now, so you’re one of us. Plus I’m damn good at painting nails and nobody should say ‘no’ to a free salon-quality manicure. So. That’s decided.”
Soleil cast Angelou a grateful look, and the girl gave her a wink before bending over Sharee’s nails. Soleil started a playlist, then gathered up a few of the leftover food cartons and went to the fridge. When she straightened from setting them inside, Delaney was standing there, holding more leftovers.
“You two think you’re pretty smooth, don’t you?” Her dark purple lips quirked up at one side. “You and Angelou, with your little secrets.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I mean there’s something you won’t tell us. I’ll find out, you know. Achan and Angelou can’t shield you for long.”
Soleil snatched the food containers and stuffed them onto a wire shelf in the fridge. “Why are you so interested, anyway?”
“Because secrets mean threats.” Delaney tapped inky nails against the kitchen island. “You’re a threat to our coven.”
“Unregistered coven,” Soleil muttered.
“So? The Convocation didn’t consider me powerful enough to attend their precious Institute. Why should I be bound to their rules? Why should anyone be forbidden from hanging out with fellow witches and sensitives? It’s idiotic.”
Soleil let the fridge close and sighed. “A couple weeks ago, I wouldn’t have agreed with you. But now—”
“Now that you’re Achan’s shiny new toy.” Delaney’s eyes shot a challenge into Soleil’s.
