The eggs sizzled when he poured them into the hot pan. “Don’t repeat this,” he said, “but I think Killian plans to reach out to Crowe directly during the festival. See if they can’t improve ties between the clubs.”
“He’s got some work to do, then.”
Again, I considered mentioning Jane. The fact that she’d seen bad things in our future likely meant the Devils’ League and the Deathstalkers would not be besties anytime soon. But why? If Killian extended the offer, why would Crowe turn it down?
“And you?” I asked Darek. “What do you think about a truce?”
He diced up the ham and green pepper with quick efficiency, and threw it, along with the cheese, over the bubbling eggs. “You know how I feel. I want fences mended. I want peace. Families have died out before, you know. Magic lines have been crushed out like cigarettes, or have just dwindled to nothing.…” He trailed off. The eggs started to brown.
“Hey. You okay?”
“What? Yeah.” He scraped the eggs, folding them into an omelet. “I was just making the point that we should all get along. The kindled have this amazing heritage, you know? I don’t understand why they can’t work together to preserve it.”
“Darek, it’s our heritage, too.”
He looked over at me and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Good point. But how about this—I also don’t like the fact that I have to hide our relationship just because we’re from two different clubs with a bad history of killing each other.”
I grinned and threw a scrap of diced pepper at him. He heroically caught it in his mouth. “Relationship, huh?” I asked.
He bowed his head, wearing a genuine smile as he chewed. “I guess we haven’t really hashed that out yet. Let’s do it on a full stomach.”
The burner clicked off, and he slid the giant omelet onto a plate. We sat down at the kitchen table with our feast between us, forks in hand. The omelet was delicious. He’d once told me he dreamed of being a chef in New Orleans but had felt the call of the club after the Deathstalkers were nearly wiped out. His father had once been a member but had died a long time ago in an accident. He never talked about his mother, but I’d gathered she’d died, too, long before his father, leaving him an orphan. Unable to stomach the idea of his father’s club dying out, he joined up, and here he was. I smiled across the table at him. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Our eyes caught and held. “I wouldn’t have missed this chance for the world,” he said softly.
I was still caught in his stare when the back door opened and my mom shuffled inside wearing her Denny’s uniform, her thick black hair frizzy and disheveled. She took one look at the mess in the sink and cursed. “So much for my plan to bring about world peace with amazing feijoada. You must be Darek.”
He held out his hand, and she gave it a quick shake. “I guess Jemmie told you about me.”
“Just a few things. You be careful out there in our little town, Mr. Deathstalker Prospect.”
“Will do.” Darek winked at me. “I think Jemmie’s going to take good care of me.”
“Okay, then,” she said, drawing out the words. “Remember to use a condom. I’m going to bed.”
“Mom!”
She snorted. “I’m just kidding.” She walked toward her bedroom and paused in the doorway. “Seriously, though. Condom. Good night.”
She closed the door softly behind her, and I buried my head in my hands. “Ugh.”
“I actually found that delightfully supportive. I’m glad she’s so accepting.”
“More like she’s utterly exhausted after a ten-hour workday and barely even knows what she’s saying.” I took our empty plate to the sink. When I turned around next, Darek was inches away. He cornered me, his hands planted on either side of me, on the counter.
“Are you supportive of our relationship?” he said.
My breath caught in my throat. The scent of him, cigarette smoke smothered with mint, clouded my better judgment. I pressed my nose to his chest and breathed him in as his hands rose to rest on the sides of my neck. That warm sense of relaxation drew a sigh from my mouth. “I don’t know,” I said honestly.
He pulled my hand down and placed it on the hard muscles of his waist. “Happy to let you take a test-drive.”
I looked up to see him wearing a mischievous grin, and I was embarrassed to smell my own frosty, minty magic. Usually I could keep it contained, but I guess he was affecting me more than I was willing to admit. I closed my eyes to avoid the sight of locant sparkling like stars as it floated between us. “Don’t tempt me.”
He licked his lips and leaned in closer. My eyes dropped to his mouth.
Crowe’s stupid face flashed in my mind, and I tore my gaze away, biting my lip.
Darek sighed. “Message received.”
“What?” It came out as a yelp.
“Jemmie, you can’t fool me. I mean, I know we’ve had this long-distance thing going, but I still know you. And I know you haven’t made up your mind. You’re still thinking about Crowe, aren’t you?” Now his handsome face was hard, jaw clenched.
“That’s not fair. I hadn’t talked to him for weeks, and then tonight—”
He put up his hands. “I’m not in the mood for details right now. I heard you guys in here earlier, after all.”
I pressed my fingertips to my temple, where a headache was taking shape once again. “Fine. I’m sorry. Like I said, it’s been a shitty night. Not the best time for me to be making serious decisions about anything.” I turned to walk back to my room, and Darek followed.
“I’m sorry,” he said as I plopped down on my bed. “That wasn’t fair, and the last thing I want to do is pressure you.” He laughed. “Especially because you’re probably the only Devil in Hawthorne who wouldn’t kill me as soon as you looked at me.”
I hung my head. “They’re not that bad. We’ll figure it out.” I yawned. “Tomorrow.” I pulled my phone out and sent a quick text to Alex. I’m sorry about what happened. It should only last a day or two. Please tell me you don’t hate me.
“What did you do?” Darek asked, reading upside down.
Exhausted, I silenced my phone and laid it facedown on the bedside table. “Magic,” I said, stifling another yawn.
“And it worked for you?” he asked. I’d told him all about my avoidance of magic, just not why.
“Believe it or not, it did.” A small smile crept onto my face.
“Jealous,” he said in a singsong voice as he sank onto the bed beside me. As if we’d been doing it for a year, we both lay down, me in his arms. It felt peaceful and safe. The opposite of being around Crowe. That had to mean something, right?
“Will you start practicing now?” he asked. “I think you’re more powerful than you’re willing to admit.”
“You sound like Alex,” I said sleepily.
“Alex is a smart girl,” he replied, stroking my hair. “You going to introduce me?”
“Let’s take it slow, seeing as her brother blew up my mom’s plans for edible world peace or whatever she said.”
Darek snorted. “Fair enough. And Jemmie? Thank you.”
“For what?” I was drifting now, right on the cusp of deep slumber.
He tightened his arm around me, his fingers finding a bare sliver of flesh above my jeans; my stomach thrilled at the touch. If I couldn’t have my best friend right now, at least I could have my second-best friend, who was very hot, and very warm, beside me. “For being who you are.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed a smile into his shoulder. Maybe this could work. Maybe all of it would work. The Devils and the Deathstalkers would shake hands and become allies. I could love Darek. I could practice my magic. Alex and I would smooth things over, and we’d go right back to having fun. The next few days were full of promise and possibility.
Of course, this was how I’d felt last year, just before the festival, when my hope for a relationship with Crowe fell apart—and just before Crowe’s father crashed on that lonely road in rural Louisiana. But in Darek’s arms, sliding into a river of dreams, I couldn’t help but hope that Old Lady Jane’s dire predictions were dead wrong.
FIVE