Page 61 of With This Witch
Petra slinks to the floor. Curling her knees to her chest, she wraps her arms around them and rests her forehead on top.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
Lachlan
Lachlan sits along the bench in the council chambers, his mind repeatedly wandering to Petra, wondering what she’s doing. Grog has been rambling on about one thing or another, taking periodic jabs at him for most of this weekly meeting. He’s done his best to ignore it and not give him more ammo.
The meeting finally wraps, and Lachlan silently thanks the Goddess, unsure how much longer he could be in the room with Grog today. Grog is busy talking to Councilor Amare as Lachlan leaves the room. He makes it partway down the marble-lined hallway before feeling his pockets and realizing he left his phone on the desk. He turns, groaning internally, and ventures back, but as he gets closer to the open doors, he hears Grog’s raised voice. Lachlan stops short before entering the room, tucking himself against the wall as he listens and calls on his shadows. Swirls of darkness surround him obscuring him from view.
“We cannot have a new Rose as the Premier Witch. She will continue to destroy everything we have worked for. Everything thatIhave been working for,” Grog yells.
“Maybe it is time we support Gladys’s efforts. It’s time we recognize we cannot win. It has been nearly fifty years, Hegnir,” Amare responds.
“You want to give up? You want to let a witch win?”
“I’m just tired. I’m tired of fighting. And my people want what Gladys has been supporting. It’s time I listen to them.” She sighs.
“If you abandon my efforts, you will regret it,” he snarls.
Lachlan hears the shuffling of feet followed by a single set of footsteps approaching.
Did Grog just threaten Amare? Is he dumb enough to threaten a vampire queen?
“Then so be it,” she says, stopping inside the door. “I look forward to destroying you.”
“You’ll sing a different tune when I have all the power. You’ll be begging me for mercy,” he growls at her.
Amare doesn’t respond. Instead, she leaves the room, her shoulders heavy as she passes by Lachlan, either not noticing him or ignoring that he is there. Vampires have keen senses, so it seems unlikely that she isn’t aware of him. He prefers not being noticed, though, as he’s unsure how Amare would react to him eavesdropping.
He waits until he hears Grog port from the room before reentering and retrieving his phone.
Grog wants power.
Grog isn’t afraid to threaten other council members to get it.
What else isn’t he afraid to do?
* * *
It’s been a week since that night at the council. The winds are cold, matching how he’s felt since that night without Petra. After they were launched back home that night, Lachlan could feel the rage rolling through his body, his muscles taut to the point of snapping, his mind a non-stop whirl as he tried to sort through how that all went wrong. How could Grog think what he was doing was acceptable, and why did the other council members agree? Most of all, why was he being frozen out of these proceedings?
With his thoughts clouding his judgment and his shadows frightening Petra, he felt it best to leave until he was in a better frame of mind. That is how he found himself standing outside his mother’s house in Stanmore, staring at the darkened windows, wondering if he deserved to be here or if hell was where he belonged.
He hasn’t heard from Petra all week, and he’s been too ashamed to reach out. He knows he reacted poorly, but he needed to get out of there and clear his mind. Now, he stays because he’s worried she will think less of him. She may not know it, but she has his heart in his hands and the power to crush it should she wish. How can he go back to her and risk her doing exactly that?
Sitting on the front porch, Lachlan nods along as his mother speaks. Telling tales of the old days in the underworld. How she met his father. Of him as a young demon-boy, playing pranks on other children in the neighborhood. She hasn’t pushed him for information yet, giving him time to sort through his issues. She’s merely happy to have him visiting.
As the daylight wanes, they venture back inside. He stands beside her and leans down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, drawing a deep breath.Home.Memories from his childhood come rushing back. He pictures holding her hand as a young boy as they walked through parks, going for ice cream on hot summer days, and standing by the infernos as his dad told them stories about demons who went bad—which is an interesting thought now that he thinks about it because demons are inherently troubled so what does it take for a demon to be considered bad?
He releases her after a prolonged moment, and his mother places her hand on the middle of his back, rubbing small circles before leading him inside. He watches as she walks ahead, taking them to the kitchen and starting the kettle for some tea. She must sense he has something to say, so she’s setting the stage with routine and comfort. Tea with Mom was how he and Declan worked through challenging moments when they were young.
The last few months have been beyond strange for Lachlan. Before meeting Petra, he would not have considered rushing into a marriage to help a friend. As he sits at the table trying to think about what and how he is going to share everything that has been going on with his mother, he realizes that while the suggestion to marry him was initially to help Petra earn her title, the demon in him did it to trap her and claim her. He was tired of her not seeing him, so he forced her hand.
His mother hands him a cup, steam billowing out, and sits opposite him. His hands wrap around the warm mug, and the heat flows through his fingertips and down to his toes. He sniffs deep at the familiar scent of lemon and lavender that sends him back to his childhood and unwinds the knot of tension he’s been carrying around. He feels his shoulders drop away from his ears, his back relaxes, and his leg stops bouncing. He kicks off his shoes under the table and spreads his socked feet on the floor beneath him, feeling more grounded than he has in a long time.
There’s just something about this home that connects with him. Perhaps it’s nostalgia or maybe the company, but whatever it is, he’s grateful for it.
Finally making eye contact with his mom, he slowly breathes out, preparing for what’s to come.
