Page 17 of Unbound

“I don’t even know where to start.” Dennis thinks for a second. “Were they kind to you?”

I don’t know why, but the question catches me off guard. Is everyone here this nice? Does everyone here actually care?

“I mean, in some ways.” I shrug and take a drink. “Most people didn’t know I was a witch. I was—or, well, I guess I am—a really good hunter, so I feel like there was a lot of animosity toward me just because I was better.”

“I can see that.” He nods. “But what about the ones who knew who you really were?”

“Only a few people accepted me and didn’t treat me like a monster or constantly remind me how different I was.” My mind automatically goes to Ryder. There was never a doubt in my mind that he thought any less of me because I was a witch. If anything, I think he was intimidated by the fact that it made me better than him in some ways. Not just a better hunter, but maybe even a better person overall.

He told me before how impressed he was, and that having powers basically made me a superhero, but it never went to my head. I never acted like I was better than anyone. I never used my powers to get my way or manipulate people.

And according to him, that showed how strong my character was. But it didn’t matter in the end, because we all know how it went down. Not just in flames. More like a dumpster fire pushed into an inferno.

“I thought there were times my supposed parents cared about me,” I say, then clap my mouth shut and shake my head. Six months ago, my answer would’ve been vastly different than it is right now. I take another drink. Six months ago, I thought I was some sad, rescued orphan, and Vivian and Marco were doing me a huge favor by raising me as their own. But now I know they basically kept me alive just so they could use me. “I was adopted, I guess you could say, into a pretty large family. My two brothers and younger sister have never looked at me any differently. In fact, two of my brothers are at my house right now, ready to rebel against the Order.”

“Wow.” Dennis’s eyebrows go up. “Maybe I was wrong about Order members. Here I was thinking they were all brainwashed cult members who pull the trigger first and ask questions later.”

“Shoot first, ask questions later,” Marie corrects.

Dennis rolls his eyes. “There’s a reason we never worked out romantically,” he mutters. Then both he and Marie laugh. “So,” he says, changing the subject. “What do you want to know about us?”

“I feel like I can echo what you just said.” I look around again. “I don’t even know where to start.” I take another drink. “I knew I wasn’t the only witch out there, but I had no idea something like this existed. I dreamed of the day I would find more of my kind and maybe even someone from my family.” My chest tightens. “I grew up believing my parents were killed by demons, but that didn’t mean they were the only relatives I had. I always wondered why I wasn’t given to my grandparents or an aunt or uncle or even a distant cousin, you know?”

I take another big drink, wanting to feel the liquid relief from the alcohol. It’s not something I do often. But right now, can you blame me?

“What were you told?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“When I got old enough to start questioning things, they told me it wasn’t safe. They said there was a chance the demon would come back looking for me because it didn’t want to leave anyone alive.” I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “In a way, that made sense. If a demon targets a particular family, sometimes they won’t stop until everyone is dead. I got away, or at least that’s what I was told, and I didn’t question it because I’ve seen that exact situation happen.” I wait a beat before going on. “We’ve helped people who went through exactly what I went through. Or, well, exactly what I thought I went through.”

“You know,” Dennis says with a laugh, slapping his knee, “you’re surprisingly normal.”

I almost choke on my drink laughing. “I think that’s very much up for debate. And depending on who you talk to, they would definitely disagree.”

“Well.” He finishes his drink and sets the empty glass on the wooden countertop. “I hope to see you back. And maybe someday, I hope to see you sitting in the back of my class taking notes.”

“What do you teach?”

“Potions.”

I blink several times, feeling like I’ve been dropped back into a Harry Potter movie yet again.

“Simply put,” he says, apparently noticing the shock on my face. “My family’s history runs deep here in New Orleans. My great-grandmother passed down her knowledge of potions and tinctures to my mother, who passed it down to me. Now I take great pride in continuing to share what our family has learned and known for generations.” He smiles. “I also teach a lot of precautionary magic. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“Yeah…” I say. “I’ve learned that one the hard way a time or two.”

“My summer course is wrapping up in about a month,” he tells me, “but if you ever want to come and sit in, I can pretend you’re my TA. That way my high school students don’t question why you’re there. And also to keep the boys away from you. They’re too young for you, but you’re definitely not too old for them.”

I let out a snort of laughter and raise my glass to take another drink.

“That giant rock on your hand might help,” Marie says, looking at my engagement ring.

Dennis shakes his head. “Teenage boys wouldn’t even notice. They’d just see a pretty girl who could kick their ass ten ways to Friday. They’d be taking bets on who had enough guts to go talk to her.”

“You said you try to avoid Order members,” I say, backtracking a little. “Does that mean everyone in this coven knows about the Order?”

“More or less,” Marie answers. “The Order is very much our boogeyman.” She looks at me. “As I told you, most of us don’t have active powers, which means we don’t have some magical way of defending ourselves at the moment. Plus, even someone with an active power can be shot, poisoned, or stabbed on the street.” Her expression grows serious. “It doesn’t matter how strong your powers are or how grand everything here seems. We’re all vulnerable.”

I take another big drink, forcing down the lump rising in my throat. Because I know exactly what she’s talking about. I know how the Order operates. They’re good at what they do, which is why I’m good at what I do.