Page 28 of The Rut in the Road

“Do you remember about a year-and-a-half ago, maybe a little more, when those riots happened downtown?”

“The ones at the Magic-Free Movement protests?” I asked.

“Yeah. When Hart damn near got himself both stabbed and trampled to death,” Ward muttered.

“Hart almost got stabbed to death in the riots?” I asked, surprised. I didn’t remember that.

Ward nodded. “It was ugly. Taavi was staying with us because Hart got called out, and he was a mess when he came over to pick him up.” He sighed. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to say.” He shifted a little. “There are protests planned for two weekends from now,” he said. “Starting the second Saturday in October.”

“More than one protest?” I asked. He’d made the word plural.

“At least three,” he clarified. “At several places throughout the city—downtown, by VCU, at one of the malls in Short Pump, a few other places, too, I think.”

“Why?” I asked. I knew why people from the Magic-Free Movement protested in general—although I really didn’t agree with their perspectives—but I didn’t know why, specifically, they were protesting now, especially in so many places.

Ward sighed again, his brow furrowing deeper. “Because they’d rather we didn’t exist,” he said, his voice flat and angry.

I’d known that part. I’d been asking why they were protesting now. “But why now?” I asked, since he hadn’t understood the last time.

“Probably because Senator Adams is trying to push through Arcanid rights legislation, plus the fact that stores are putting out all their Halloween shit.”

“They’ve been doing that since August,” I pointed out.

Ward shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s officially ‘spooky season’ now, which always gets the MFM assholes up in arms because witches areeeevil.” He exaggerated the last word, wiggling his fingers for emphasis.

“Are we?” came Mason’s amused rumble from outside the door.

Ward rolled his eyes, but I knew he wasn’t really mad. “According to the MFM assholes,” he replied darkly, “yes.”

“Ah,” Mason said, and now he sounded much less amused. He leaned in the doorway, crossing both muscular arms over his chest, his sleeves rolled up because it was still warm, exposing green forearms. “I take it we’re discussing the protests?”

I nodded.

“The real issue,” Mason informed me, “is that we’ve already got gigs both this weekend and next, and the ones next weekend include one in Short Pump and one at a nightclub downtown, which puts us in close proximity to two of them.”

I nodded again, understanding the implications—that if there were séances being held somewhere that the MFM protestors heard about, there was likely to be trouble. Protests against the séances, possibly. Or worse. “What should we do?” I asked, looking back and forth between both Mason and Ward.

“We’ll have to make sure neither Ward nor Beck goes alone to a séance,” Mason said firmly, and I wondered if Ward had argued with him about this. “If I can’t go with Ward, you will—and Violette will go with Beck.”

I thought about this. I couldn’t very well argue that he shouldn’t go with his own husband, but?—

“What are you thinking, Rayn?” Ward was the one who asked the question.

I glanced over at him. “Just that… You’re a stronger practitioner and better able to defend yourself than Beck is, comparatively,” I said, since Beck was quite capable of taking care of herself in most circumstances. “Vi and I can look out for you, but Mason will have the ability to protect Beck, where Vi and I might not.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Rayn,” Mason told me. “You’re as powerful as I am.”

I frowned, since that seemed wrong to me. “Even if I am,” I said, very much doubting it, “I’m a lot less practiced.” I grimaced. “Everyone is safer with either Ward or you than with me.”

Mason seemed to consider this.

But it was Ward who spoke. “You know he’s right, Mace.”

Mason frowned. “I don’t like it,” he rumbled.

“None of uslikeit,” Ward retorted, but his voice was soft rather than judgmental. “And, yes, Mace, I’d always rather have you with me, but Rayn’s right. Not—” He glanced at me. “Not that he isn’t capable, but that you and I have a lot more experience with defensive magic.”

Mason sighed. “I suppose so,” he replied. His eyes focused on Ward’s face, and I could see a muscle ticking in his jaw.