Page 95 of Spirit Storm

Which is incredible in its own right, and I tell him so.

"Yeah, I was astonished I got us back home, but I guess that whole 'mother lifts a car' adrenaline rush also works on portaling your possessed bestie across continents while she's having a magical power overload."

Wylder arches a dark brow. "It could also be the fact that all Order head offices have standing stones to allow ease of portaling between headquarters."

Asher waves that explanation away. "It could, but we didn't know that at the time."

Wylder nods. "True. We didn't. And in no way am I downplaying what you did. I'm grateful you were there, and I'm even more grateful that Poppy has you in her corner, always looking out for her."

Asher flashes him a sly smile. "Are you coming on to me, Howe?"

I bust up laughing and gesture to the standing stones around us. "All right, Ash. Show me what you've got."

The evening air hits warm and salt-thick the moment we materialize in the ring of standing stones on the property behind the Bahamian Order of the Arcane standing stones.

The sun is sinking low, and the tangerine orange spreading over the surface of the turquoise water looks like some heavenly artist has painted the whole place in copper.

It would be heart-stoppingly beautiful if my heart wasn't already racing with anxiety about returning to the scene of a crime I committed.

"You good?" Wylder asks from beside me.

"Ask me again in ten minutes."

We find our way inside and retrace the path Khylie took us when we first arrived.

Khylie is waiting at the cave mouth, and when she sees me, I brace for it, some version of the look I've been giving myself in every reflective surface since the Bahamas went sideways.

Disappointment. Anger. The particular expression of someone who trusted you and got burned for it.

What I get instead is Khylie crossing the distance between us and putting both hands on my shoulders. "Oh, you look so much better. Are you all right?"

"I'm devastated about what happened. I can't tell you how sorry I am. I'm just sick that you trusted me to come here and see everything your family has preserved all these centuries and I betrayed that trust."

"You did no such thing. Are you saying you invited Tharuzel here? Or that you willingly gave yourself over to him so that he could take down our lockstone?"

"Oh, no. Of course not. I would never. But still⁠—"

"But nothing. You survived a major demon taking hold of you, and you're still standing. Don't apologize to me."

I open my mouth to argue, but she shakes her head. "Seriously, Poppy, you don't have to say anything more. I cannot imagine fighting something like that off from inside. Xavier and I grew up knowing an attack on the lockstone was always a possibility. We know it's a target."

"Yeah, and I led him straight to it."

"You didn't lead him anywhere. He used you. There's a difference." She drops her hands and tilts her head toward the cave. "And it's not as bad as you're probably imagining. Come and see what Xavier's done."

The sea chamber looks different at low tide. The water has pulled back from the rocky floor, and the bioluminescence at the bottom of the tide pool lights the lower walls in faint blue-green.

The air smells less like salt and more like warm stone, and I'm not sure if that's because of the absence of the sea or the signature of the stone witch repairing the runes.

Xavier is crouched at the base of the ritual circle, a wide, flat-backed man with Khylie's same deep brown complexion and close-cropped hair that’s darker at the temples and forehead where it's damp with sweat.

His hands move with the precise focus of an artist who has been transported into their creation and has blocked out the world around them. Lily often looks like this when she is lost in one of her sketch books.

Xavier exists within stone and intention, his glowing fingers tracing the carved lines of the runes with a purpose that makes my spirit magic hum in recognition.

The Mother Goddess' gifts called to purpose.

The circle is almost whole again. The fractures Tharuzel tore through it are sealed, the carved runes sharp and clean again, each symbol sitting flush in the wall as though it had never crumbled to the sand floor in ruin.