started to get angry for not having been given the magical training that was his birthright. He knew that his parents loved him, but he was starting to think that they had made a critical error in judgment in raising him in the ways of mortals.
He would be home right at high noon, which was when his mother normally steeped her love potions for maximum potency. His father would be at his computer obsessing over fluctuations in the stock market or looking for ways to magically influence local political races without being noticed. Like all magicals, Zander’s parents’ only job was to stay beyond the suspicion of any nearby mortals and appear as “normal” as possible. Most magical families had secured significant wealth several generations ago through the use of magic and just busied themselves with what most mortals would consider trivial pursuits, socializing and traveling abroad. When Zander’s friends asked what his parents did for a living, he would lie and say that his father was a day trader who worked from home and his mother was an art buyer for wealthy investors.
His phone rang, and he grabbed it from the passenger’s seat immediately. It was Giovanni. Zander was too embarrassed to talk to him. After all of Giovanni’s hospitality, Zander had torn up his guest bedroom, thrown a fit, and stormed out without even saying goodbye.
There was no wonder his cousins treated him the way they did, especially that damn Waverly Knight, his Uncle Siran’s oldest son. Waverly was his older first cousin on his father’s side. Zander had always sought Waverly’s approval -- even imagined that he was the big brother that Zander never had -- but Waverly was typically dismissive and sometimes downright mean. Waverly was everything a warlock was supposed to be -- cool, confident, cultured. It had been Waverly who was given responsibility for introducing Zander to the available young witches at the Litha... and now he could possibly be dead.
His phone rang for the sixth time before he decided to let it simply go to voicemail. What could he say to fix things with Giovanni at this point? Not only had he managed to lose a great guy in Tau, he had also probably alienated the closest thing that he’d ever had to a warlock best friend.
The closer he got to his house, the more nervous he became. He turned onto the highway that led to his house. He had grown accustomed to the quiet solitude that his family’s large, country estate provided. Friends were invited over only during times of low magical significance, which left very little opportunity when you considered the various solstice and equinox periods and all of the necessary wiccan activities that led up to them. His phone rang again. It was Giovanni. He didn’t answer -- he couldn’t.
Chapter 10
“How could he get out without you hearing him?” Tau snarled.
“What are you trying to say?” Giovanni asked, eyebrows raised.
“You knew he was upset. Was it too hard for you to keep an eye on him? Was that just too much responsibility for you?”
“Let’s not forget that you are part of the reason that he got so upset in the first fucking place,” Giovanni spit.
“I knew you were a damn mess when I first met you.” Tau pulled his large hands through his hair, obviously frustrated.
“You’ve already been thrown into one wall by a warlock this morning,” Giovanni reminded him. “Let’s not make it two... or three. If I get started slinging your ass around this room, I just might not stop.”
“I’d choke the shit out of you before you could even get started,” Tau hissed.
“Stop!” Hung yelled. “This arguing isn’t doing any good. You both want the same thing.”
Giovanni and Tau went to their mutual corners, never taking their eyes off of one another.
“You both should go get dressed,” Hung said, palms raised. “I’ll fix you something to eat, and then we can figure out what to do next.”
Giovanni softened. Not only was Hung a