Page 101 of Discovered Magic
“How did you regenerate your powers, Thorne? I can’t say I’ve ever seen anything like it.”
“I don’t know.” He wasn’t being coy. One minute, he was at the table; the next, he was bolting for a secluded area, suddenly sure he could teleport. “I think our friendly neighborhood Aether infused me prior to my arrival.” He frowned as he recalled the shooting and the infusion he’d felt on the boardwalk. “Maybe not him alone.”
“So someone’s been amping you up all along,” Castor concluded with a nod. “I’m assuming you teleported us here from the Hastings’ land?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened to the other two losers?”
“Wendall and Frank? Don’t know.” Wilder shook his head, bemused.
Draven pulled the brim of his hat low over his eyes. “They are probably still in the woods, digging Jennings’s grave, oui?”
“Or died of a heart attack when they saw tornadoes bearing down on us. Hopefully, they’ll believe that’s what wiped out the cabin and the others.” Wilder conjured a bottle of booze and took a long pull before handing it to Draven. “I don’t think I’ve thanked you properly for all you’ve done for Abbie. You have my heartfelt gratitude, and I owe you.”
Which was why he didn’t rub salt into the guy’s wound for not accepting what the Fates were pushing.
“She is an easy woman to care about.” Draven contemplated the amber liquid a moment before taking a swig. “I shall miss her.”
“I have a feeling you’ll see her again,” Castor said, snatching the bottle from him. “But I’m going to instruct her to punch you in the nuts.”
“You are a vicious bastard, mon ami.”
Wilder tuned them out as they traded barbs. His mind was too quiet. No buzz of her thoughts, no tether. His panic fought for a foothold. Where the hell was she? Would Zeus help her or leave her to flounder? The questions were a constant barrage, and the urge to scream was strong. Had they truly been in Perdition less than a week? It seemed like a century or more. And they’d had little sleep, existing on cat naps as they were slammed by one drama after another. He could barely recall the day they’d left to come here.
As Castor handed him the bottle, he froze.
“Didn’t we say we would put a C on the rock face if we needed help getting home?”
With his dark-blond brows almost to his hairline, the Traveler gaped at him. “We did! Jaysus! Quentin would be checking back daily to see if we need him.”
“How the hell did we forget that little factoid?” Wilder shook his head, disgusted with himself. What might they have prevented if they’d done that first?
Damian’s voice rang in his head, “Nothing. The Fates were involved, Thorne.”
He sat straighter, glancing around.
Jonas and the Aether appeared before them. The sheriff wore a rueful smile.
“It seems you fellas find trouble at every turn,” Jonas said. He held his hand out for the whiskey, then returned it after the Aether rejected the proffered bottle. “Is this a meeting of the Woe is Us club?”
“Fuck off,” Castor muttered. Gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder, he asked, “Which of you is willing to blast a giant C into the rock?”
“I’ll do it,” Draven offered. Standing, he dusted his backside and faced the portal. “Anything else with it? Perhaps Fuck the Fates?”
Wilder barked a laugh and lifted the bottle in salute.
Damian’s tone was highly amused, but his words held a warning. “Ever heard of ‘don’t tempt fate,’ Masters? They aren’t the most forgiving lot.”
“Speaking of the Fates…” Wilder grimaced. “I’ve got a story to tell you, Draven.”
PRESENT DAY
Royal was allowed a few extra minutes to say goodbye to his brother and sister-in-law before they left for the Otherworld.
Abbie’s chest ached for him. For her entire life, her only family had been Beth, and if death ever came for her mother, she’d be devastated.
The job to restore Royal to his body was helped along by Isis. Between the Goddess, the Death Dealer, and the Aether, they reassembled him in true Frankenstein fashion, with electricity sparking through Trevor’s body as he pushed healing magic into Royal.
