What Devilry is This?: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Mature Magic Book 1) by Sam Cheever

Author:Sam Cheever [Cheever, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Electric Prose Publications
Published: 2021-05-25T07:00:00+00:00

14

Shall know her bounty from above…

Five minutes later, facilities visited, face splashed, and hair returned to some semblance of control, I walked into the living room. My bare feet made no sound against the smooth coolness of the wood floor. Despite the silence of my approach, everyone in the room looked up when I entered, all eyes watching me as if I held the secret to world peace.

The sensation of being watched was definitely disconcerting. That was probably the leading factor in why I promptly stubbed my toe on the leg of the coffee table as I headed for the empty chair they’d left me.

I gritted my teeth against the sudden, bright pain and barely resisted hopping around, holding my foot like an idiot. Though, I did surreptitiously rub the damaged digit on my other foot as I glanced over the assembled group.

Mavis, Bev, and Niele sat on the couch. The Rev was looking over my bookshelves, examining the selection of hard and softcover books. My face heated as I thought of the sexy romance novels on the center shelf, hoping he wouldn’t notice. No such luck. I watched him pluck one from the end…the really hot ones…and felt as if my face might catch on fire.

Gren and the newcomer stood behind the couch, arms crossed over their chests and identical glowers riding their handsome faces.

They looked like entry guards at the Queen of Hearts’ palace.

Off with their important bits!

I fought a grin at the thought, clearing my throat.

Monty was over by the alcove, chasing a big moth that was fluttering against the glass. The bat wasn’t there. It was apparently still in my room.

Unable to resist, I said, “You’re probably all wondering why I called you here.”

Bev snorted out a laugh.

Mavis grinned.

Gren’s glower slipped a tiny bit.

Ferral’s glare deepened.

No sense of humor. Got it. The guy was going to be a laugh a minute.

“We need to plan, Madam Lares,” Mr. Unhappy growled. “It is nearly Midnight.”

I nodded. As much as I hated being reminded of my “thirteens” problem, I knew he was right. And part of me was glad I wouldn’t have to face the next nightmarish situation alone. “We need a plan, yes. But first, I need some information.”

“What kind of information?” Mr. Unhappy asked. He narrowed his gaze on me as if he suspected my request was some kind of trick.

“These nightly crises…do we know ahead of time what they’re going to be? Is there some way to plan for them?”

Ferral seemed confused by my question.

“I mean, is there some kind of pattern to them? Are they predictable?”

“That’s an excellent question, Madam Lares,” Niele gushed.

“No,” Ferral said, ignoring the naked gnome as he ruthlessly dashed my hopes. “Each seating is unique. In your case, you were brought to your legacy in response to events that were already set into motion. In most cases, a new Lares has time to acclimate and prepare for the thirteenth series. But, your reluctance to embrace your legacy has put everyone in a bind.

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