Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(17)
Tandi waved off her comment with a low snarl. “It’s a matter of time before the European Pack comes to their senses. They flourished under his rule, and now they’re flailing with that traitorous SIC in the position.”
“Not if he keeps throwing terms like rule around.”
The witch’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, Rosie. You’re sounding a bit jealous … which is exactly what I wanted to avoid by telling you about Val and myself.”
“Jealous I’m no longer tied to a masochistic sociopath?” Rose snorted. “Yeah, call me the green-eyed monster. Good luck with him, Tandi, and I mean that in all sincerity because you’ll need every ounce of luck that comes your way.”
“All this bitterness really isn’t necessary. Not every relationship is meant to work and from what Val has told me, yours and his had issues from the very beginning.”
Rose’s hands tightened on the wheel.
“He made sure not to place blame,” Tandi added insincerely, “but it’s a good thing you’re stepping back from Supernatural society. Now you can take the time to look at yourself in the mirror and self-reflect. It couldn’t hurt at least.”
Her knuckles cracked, turning white.
“If you ask me, it’s something your sister should do, too, before she makes a mockery out of the entire magical community. I mean, Violet as Prima? Witches will be a laughingstock of the Supernatural world with her as our spokesperson.”
Rose snapped, her Magic crackling in the small confines of the car and lifting the hair on her arms.
Make digs at her … fine. Come at one of her sisters and it’s game over, bwitch.
Ignoring both the blaring horns and the three witches in the backseat squealing loud enough to rupture eardrums, Rose swerved through four lanes of traffic and pulled over onto the shoulder of the busy highway.
“Get out.”
“Excuse me?” Brandi squealed, her eyes so wide it was comical.
Rose let her Magic come to the surface, its pink-and-gold sparks hovering over her open palm, and opened the rear door with a quick flick of her hand. “I didn’t whisper. Get out of my car. All of you. Before I Magic your stuck-up asses out. You have until the count of three. One…”
The I-Squad quickly stumbled out of the car, practically climbing over one another.
“Two…”
Tandi scowled, flinging her expensive purse over her shoulder, her phone already clutched in her hand. “I’ll make sure you get fired for this, Maxwell!”
She wiggled her fingers in a mocking goodbye wave. “Wouldn’t be the first time, and what do I care? I’ll just have more time to self-reflect.”
With the bwitches out of her car, Rose pulled back onto the highway, a satisfied grin on her face. Goddess, it felt damn good not to do the proper thing for once. Yeah, it might earn her a Gran-Glower, but it would most definitely earn her a high-five from Violet, and even a sly wink of approval from Olive.
Riding that high, she let the traffic guide her around town. It was pointless to look up another client because she already knew she would be turning in her Ryde sticker today, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
By the time rush hour whisked her to the Lincoln Tunnel, her cell chimed with a text. Rose punched a button, and the automated female voice read it to her:
SOS. Gran’s place. Be ready to kick warlock ass.
—V
“What the hell…” Rose, still in protective mode, stepped on the gas and upon breaching the other end of the tunnel, quickly merged onto the turnpike that would take her toward Athens, New York, the small riverside town her parents and Edie still called home.
She made it to her grandma’s cottage in record time, her signature pink-and-gold Magic pulsing around her hands as she leaped from the car and followed her sisters’ magical signatures to the back of the house where she finally sensed a third—unfamiliar—one.
Not bothering to ring the bell as she prepared to knock heads together, Rose burst through the door. “Whose ass am I kicking?”
A squirrely man squeaked at the abrupt intrusion, and with a quick look at her sparkling hands, visibly paled. “I … I … um…”
“Finally!” Vi stood from the kitchen table, exasperation written all over her face. “Make it stop, Rose. Please. Make. It. Stop.”
Rose slowly digested the scene. No bruises. No obvious confrontation or threat. In one piece, Vi even looked well-put-together, dressed in a pair of tan slacks and a silky dress shirt. For her sister, it was practically a ball gown.
Slowly realizing there was no real emergency, she let her Magic fizzle out.
Olive, sitting on the nearby leather chair, a book opened on her lap, rolled her eyes. “I tried taking her cell phone away, but her headlock game has improved over the last few months. I had to tap out.”
“There’s no SOS.”
If Vi could’ve executed a hex with a single glare, the pale warlock—who looked like a librarian wearing a tweed jacket—would’ve been graced with a pig’s tail. “There totally is … make him disappear. All of him … and his little flash cards, too.”
Mr. Librarian—because Rose still didn’t know who this guy was—heaved out an annoyed sigh. “You’re not even trying, Miss Maxwell. Maybe if you put an ounce of effort into the task at hand, we could finish before moving on to the next step.”