Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Good.”
“Lorne,” she began, her voice shaky, “I’m so terribly relieved you’re here in Osprey, taking care of our community.”
“Thank you,” he replied.
She hung up then, and I called Amanda and told her I was headed home and would catch her up on everything the following day.
“Oh no, I’ll be right there, and I’m bringing Declan with me.”
I sighed. “Sounds good.”
The three of us rode the rest of the way home in silence.
Once there, Father Dennis and I had to help Lorne out of the Jeep because he could barely walk on his own. We took him inside, where Lorne and I both greeted the cottage, and Father Dennis, probably thinking it was merely something quirky we did, said hello as well. Once Lorne showed him he could walk again, Father Dennis took a seat on the couch beside Argos.
“Well, hello, who might you be?”
“That’s Argos, Father,” I said, leading Lorne to the bedroom.
“Aren’t you a handsome fellow.”
I could hear the cat purring from across the room.
In the bathroom, after peeling Lorne out of his clothes, I put him under the water and let it run for a bit before I got in with him.
Once Lorne was clean, he didn’t want to get out, instead waiting as I quickly scrubbed myself free of dirt and debris. That done, I kissed him, hugging him tight under the spray.
Afterward, I dried him off, put him in sleep shorts, and he was down for the count the second his head hit the pillow. I wanted to lie down with him, but I knew Amanda and Declan would be arriving shortly, and Father Dennis needed tending to as well. When I walked out into my living room, though, my favorite priest was asleep on my couch next to Argos. They made a really nice picture together.
Declan Grant knew even more about my magic than Amanda did, as he had benefited from it last fall. He knew I was a branded witch, whereas she didn’t know that part. But as he and his wife were now expecting a child, I had not wanted to involve him.
I was sitting at the table, nursing a glass of ice water, when they came in not fifteen minutes later, carrying bags of food from Declan’s bistro.
Slamming the bags down on the kitchen table, he whispered harshly, “How dare you not tell me there was a demon in town and that you were in danger!”
Amanda was staring at him wide-eyed, evidently taken aback by his whispering something that ought to be yelled. I, however, was not nearly as shocked.
He rubbed his throat. “Why can’t I talk properly?” he asked me, still whispering.
I pointed to the bedroom. “The cottage’s favorite person is sleeping. No way it lets you get above this range I’m using right now.”
Declan lifted his head, the way we all did for some reason. The ceiling wasn’t so far away that it was needed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” he said, and the scent of lemon and verbena wafted through the cottage.
“Also, Father Dennis is asleep on the couch.”
Both of them walked over to check on him, Declan returned first.
“Does the good father know all our secrets?” he asked me.
“Most,” I said, and that thought made me smile. “But not all.” My gaze met his. “Like not the kind of witch I am.”
He nodded. “Got it.”
Amanda joined us then. “We brought food so you both can stay home and veg, and I know you’re tired, but Dec and I need to be filled in.”
She had started calling him Dec sometime during the spring, when the three of us had started baking together every other Sunday morning after she came back from church.
“Okay,” I began, “so after we talked, Lorne and I went to see Father Dennis and found Mal there. He—”
“No,” Declan stopped me, and I noticed Amanda nodding in agreement. “You need to give me all the details. I want to hear it like Amanda was telling it, with facial expressions, tone of voice, all your feelings…that’s what I’m after.”
“Me too,” she chimed in.
I had to smile at them. How lucky was I to have two people, in addition to Lorne, and now Father Dennis, who knew I was a witch and were privy to all—or nearly all—my secrets. I was very blessed. As I felt the emotion surge through me, I had to reach out and grab both their hands. They both squeezed back tight.
The unpacking of the events, the way they wanted to hear, took hours. Because of course there were interruptions, food needed to be put out, and then plated so I could nosh a bit while I explained more. Amanda made a pitcher of margaritas—on the rocks since there was no blender in my kitchen, but that worked out better anyway because if we couldn’t raise our voices, then the cottage definitely would not have allowed us to use a blender.