Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
“And now you’re afraid of literally everything,” Jess said, glancing back with a teasing smile. “All the things.”
“I think it’s just that I’m meeting the most extreme examples of all these new species. Well, basajaunak are always scary, but I’m far from the only one who thinks so. You even think so. Niamh does! But as far as shifters, even that enemy mage was terrified of all of you, and he probably went through sensitivity training.”
“Sensitivity training?” she asked, her confusion evident. “I think that must mean something different in the magical world than it does in the corporate world.”
“It means they hardened him up. They reduced his sensitivity to violent acts. I bet they gave him some sort of mental spell, too, to help him combat pain. I didn’t check for it. I should have. If he had a spell like that, though, it was designed against magical attacks. Did you notice that he didn’t react to your battering quite like he did to being held in the air by Austin? Alpha, I mean. Austin Alpha. Steele! Sorry, I’m getting frazzled.”
“Okay, Edgar,” she teased.
“Not funny. You’re as bad as Nessa,” he grumbled.
“We need to give you sensitivity training for dealing with shifters,” Austin said, teasing the weird mage for laughs.
“Oh, you are, don’t worry,” Sebastian answered solemnly. “Every day. Pretty soon, I doubt very much that lesser shifters will affect me. Not that I’ve met any shifters outside of this territory, or that I want to put the theory to the test, but still.”
“Maybe just rile up the basajaunak,” Jess said. “If you survive, you won’t fear hardly anything.”
“No, thank you,” he murmured.
Brochan left the camp with Niamh, Mr. Tom, and Edgar. It was his turn to face the soft challenges from the basajaunak.
It was also, apparently, his turn to be the butt of a joke. He couldn’t imagine any other reason why he’d be forced to go with the three original—and consequently oddest—members of the Ivy House crew. Especially since one of them, the very grumpy Irishwoman, could push his buttons like no one else in the world.
If he could’ve at least brought Nessa… She seemed to have no difficulty handling Niamh or even Edgar. She just let everything roll off her back. Her smile never seemed to dim. She could be in the middle of attempting to torture someone, and she would still be light and jubilant. The pressure or the trials of life never eroded her cheery disposition.
He wished he could be like that, could feel like that again. He wished he could bottle her up and put her in his pocket to use whenever the clouds in his mind grew too dark.
The other mage—Sebastian—had scars that were etched deep. Looking at him was like looking in a mirror. But Nessa was the light in Sebastian’s life, his buoy in troubled waters. His tether when things got too turbulent.
Brochan wanted that for himself.
Then again, he wasn’t so sure he deserved a buoy or a little bottle of sunshine to keep with him when the memories crowded in.
“Oh, look.” Edgar stopped beside the path and looked over the rustic wooden railing. “This patch of clover is all shriveled up. Their leaves are droopy, see?”
Niamh and Mr. Tom kept walking, ignoring him. Brochan hesitated, then drifted toward the vampire, not wanting to leave him for the basajaunak to find. When had he become a shepherd of odd magical creatures?
“We’d best keep going,” he said. He glanced down the path, seeing that Niamh and Mr. Tom had slowed, then peered over the railing. “We’re supposed to stick together.”
“Yes, I know. Yes. I can always come back and scour this patch when Miss Jessie inevitably wins over the basajaunak.”
As the vampire straightened up, Brochan felt a thrill. “There’s one.” He pointed downward. “A four-leaf clover.”
“What?” Edgar looked between Brochan’s finger and the ground multiple times before leaning so far over the guardrail that Brochan worried he’d tumble headfirst into the patch of clovers. “So it is.” Edgar straightened and beamed at him. “How marvelous. You have a very good eye. I haven’t found any yet. What should we do, pick it and ruin the fun for everyone else just so you might have a little good luck, or let it continue living its natural life?”
Brochan suppressed the urge to laugh uncontrollably. Something about this vampire pulled you into his mindset until you didn’t feel completely rational.
“I think,” he said slowly, pretending to mull it over, “that maybe we should let it live.”
“Yes.” Edgar nodded. “Yes, I was thinking that myself. Okay, on to the next patch. Unless you want to look a little more here? There might be another. With your eagle eye—actually, gorilla eye, right?” He leaned in a little closer while smiling. His teeth were ghastly. “Maybe we can find another.”