Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
He laughed as Ivy House piped up again.
“You think someone without a mean streak can call in a phoenix and a thunderbird? Especially that phoenix and thunderbird? Get your head out of your ass.”
“Ivy House is starting to sound like Niamh,” I murmured.
“Well, we do have the same goal: to get your head out of your ass.”
“I really want to move into your place,” I told Austin, turning and burying my face into his neck. “It’s so serene there. So devoid of a pushy magical house.”
“Pushy? A useless Jane term. You want pushy? Here you go, here’s pushy—”
An electric pulse lit me up from the inside and ballooned out. It wasn’t my magic, though. Not directly, anyway. It was coming from the heart of the house, the magic I had essentially awakened. It happened two more times, each time vibrating through me and seeming to signal outward.
I knew where this was going. I knew what Ivy House was doing.
“Oh, crap,” I gritted out.
“What is it?”
She was issuing a challenge on my behalf. Her target was the enemy mage and anyone directly connected with him. Given that he was a peon, thankfully, we wouldn’t be climbing the ladder too high. They were still mages, though. When—if—the enemy mage checked in with his boss and their crew, the challenge would be solidified. The mages would be unable to resist reacting to it.
I was essentially saying, “Come and get me. I’ll be waiting.”
My chest tightened.
“Where are the others?” I asked with dread. “We have some things to discuss.”
FOURTEEN
A half-hour later, everyone made their way into the largest sitting room in Ivy House, an archaic sort of space at the western-facing rear of the building. The oversized, clunky furniture faced a central point—an empty one—with the seating spread between large, squatting coffee tables or circular end tables. Heavy drapes lined the windows with a horizontally lined pattern in green and rust. Little tassels dangled from the top.
“When are you going to redecorate this place?” Hollace asked as he took a seat at the end of one of the couches facing the empty focal point.
“When I have two moments to rub together,” I responded briskly, worrying a button on my top.
“There is nothing wrong with what is here,” Mr. Tom said, bustling in with a tray of sandwiches. He beelined for Hollace and offered him first pick, probably since he’d been the first to follow directions and make himself comfortable. “The office might need a little work to make sure you are comfortable there, miss. That’ll help you spend more time in it, I’ll wager.” He gave me a pointed look. “But otherwise, it is in tiptop shape.”
“It’s definitely clean.” Hollace took a sandwich and then looked around. “And polished. But…”
“It’s ugly, right?” Cyra took a seat on the other side of the room, facing the empty focal point and Hollace beyond it. “That’s what you were going to say? I think it’s pretty ugly. Was the person who decorated this room color-blind?”
“I’ll take care of that,” Ulric said as he walked into the room, pointing back the way he’d come. “I’m not sure how yet, but I’ll…figure something out. Edgar can help.”
“I would love to help,” Edgar said, walking in behind him. “I have so many ideas how we can incorporate it into the overall aesthetic.”
“You have an aesthetic?” Jasper asked, following them.
“Of course. All good gardens have a plan.”
“I don’t know if we can keep it. That’s a question for my mom.” Ulric sat on the other end of the couch from Hollace. “She really should be here any day. We can—or she and you can—go through all the connection request stuff just as soon as she’s here. Then we can figure out what to do about the thing on the front lawn.”
“The thing on the front lawn? What are you guys talking about?” I asked as Niamh came in carrying a cooler.
“Now that is going too far,” Mr. Tom said, stopping in his distribution of sandwiches to point at the cooler. “We are in a residence. We are not camping or interrogating someone or at some beach somewhere. We have modern appliances to keep things cool.”
“Yes, but we don’t have a spry butler to quickly grab those things.” Niamh sat in the back with her cooler. “This is much faster.”
“It’s even stained!” he admonished her. “It’s an eyesore, if nothing else, and I am plenty fast, thank you very much. I am always at hand before the need, whatever it may be, has even been realized.”
“And now ye don’t have to be.” She pushed up the top slowly, allowing the loud plastic creak to take up several seconds before grabbing out a beer. “Here, Edgar, where is one of yer doilies? I forgot to bring a beer koozie.”
“Oh no! No way.” Mr. Tom pointed at Edgar. “Do not get any of those godforsaken doilies! I’ve had just about enough of those.” He turned back to Niamh. “Old woman, you are trying to rile me up. I will not stand for it!”