Chapter 133

Grace

Eason blinked once and then again. The glow of his eyes wavered and flickered, but the hue they had been before didn't return. The grey started to turn colder, clearer like starlight. His brow furrowed as his eyes shifted around the room. They settled on Ethan for a moment before drifting to me.

"Not dead, I guess," Eason rasped.

I dove for the paging button even as the words escaped me. Ethan let out a shuddering sound.

"No, you're not dead, you absolute idiot!" I hissed. "That's not something to joke about!"

Eason's brow furrowed. He grunted. "You're yelling at me... definitely not dead. If I was, you'd be nicer... or not there. I really hope my afterlife is filled with hot men, not whiny sisters."

Ethan let out a watery chuckle. "She is a bit whiny. How are you feeling?"

He grunted again. "Not dead... Tingly, I guess. My face hurts... Your dad's an asshole."

I hissed at Eason. "Don't be so flippant!"

"I almost died. I think I'm allowed to be flippant if I want," he said. "Back me up, Ethan."

"Whatever you want."

I scoffed. "His opinion doesn't count. The next time you want to be a hero and push me out of a car, not even knowing where you'd be taken or what they would do to you, don't!"

Eason's lips parted, but I wasn't finished.

"And another thing! Your taste in men is terrible! You're banned from dating for at least another decade. Hopefully, by then, all the terrorists will have found new people to manipulate and creep on."

Eason chuckled, his voice raspy. Ethan turned to get him a glass and gestured over it so it filled with water. He helped Eason take a sip before Eason managed to sit up completely.

"Grace, you're being an asshole."

"Me?" I shrieked. "You're the one--"

"It's not Ethan's fault his dad's a psycho," Eason said. "And if anyone has a terrible taste in men, it's you."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "One of us was kidnapped and nearly sacrificed in some crazy ritual because of an ex boyfriend, and the other just got divorced because she married a cheater. I think I'm winning on that front."

Eason's lips curved into a small, cocky smile as he spoke. "Remember Clive?"

I winced. "That's a low blow."

"He's still rotting in jail, isn't he? Never got parole?"

"I have no idea."

"My ex was under years of compulsion, still is. Without it, he'd have me bent over something and seeing the Pearly Gates." My face heated as he smirked. Ethan's eyes widened. His jaw dropped. "Eason: 9000, Grace: 0." I huffed as Charles and George returned to the room just then, and Eason turned his attention to Charles with a sly grin. Charles and George went still, staring at Eason.

"You don't count, Charles. Grace has always had a thing for a little danger mixed with her handsome, but you're definitely the best pick she's ever had. I must be finally rubbing off on her."

Charles chuckled. "It was the dress."

"I like to be paid in really good food and hard-to-get fabrics if good sex is off the table... Also, your girlfriend is the reason one of my favorite suits is ruined."

"I'll reimburse you out of her future allowance." He smirked. "Or George can."

"Deal," Eason said and looked at me. "Have you been pissing off anyone else while I've been out?"

I sniffled, grateful that Eason was still... Eason. I reached over to wrap my arms around him, and he hissed, shifting a little in my arms.

"Careful with the merchandise," Eason said, even as he wrapped his uncasted arm around me. "You big baby."

"I'm sorry," I sniffled into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Eason. I don't even... I don't think I can ever--"

"Later," Eason said and stroked my back. "Everyone okay?"

"You're... probably the worst of it."

He nodded and pulled back. "I'll expect more and proper sweeping apologies later."

He flicked my nose. I huffed and swatted his hand away.

"Now.... if you could give me a few minutes? I want to speak with Ethan alone."

I hesitated, but I nodded and stood, squeezing his hand one last time before leaving with Charles and George out of the room. I closed the door behind us, feeling a mixture of emotions rush through me. George looked into the room through the window. I couldn't see much, but it didn't seem like Ethan was swiping a kiss or anything. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Eason's hand.

George looked tense beside me, though there was something in his expression that gave me pause.

"Come here," Charles said, wrapping his arms around me. "You alright?"

I nodded. "I'll be okay... His eyes..."

"I have no idea," Charles said. "Mystery for a witch, I think."

"Excuse me?" I turned to look at the woman coming down the hall. There were two other hooded people behind her. "We're looking for--Oh, Your Majesty."

Charles turned to them. "Elanor, good to see you. I didn't expect to be seeing you when I made the call."

She smiled. "It was of special interest, much like the other case. Is he here? Still concious?"

Charles nodded toward the door. "I think he's trying to give his final goodbyes now."

George turned from the window, gestured to the two enforcers, and opened the door, leading the Enforcers and the group inside.

Charles sighed, squeezing me closer. "Elanor is a friend of the family. Highly specialized in compulsion-breaking rituals, seems like Ethan's going to be around longer than he thinks."

George came back out, closing the door behind him.

Charles smirked. "Sorry, old friend. It seems you might have some competition for a little while."

George scoffed. "You're the worst."

I looked between the two of them. "What are you two talking about?"

Charles chuckled and winked at George. "George has got a crush on Eason."

I blinked, surprised and amused to hear such a phrase from Charles. I knew he could be playful, but this seemed different. I looked at George and watched him scowl at Charles even as his cheeks darkened.

"You are the absolute worst."

"Sorry, he's a bit too valuable to let die," Charles said. "And I didn't want to chance Eason trying to break it himself."

I looked up at Charles. "Would that be possible?"

"He's broken one before," Charles said. "I didn't want to chance it, especially not knowing what kind of break up they really had..."

I tilted my head, looking at George and then through the window at Ethan as he was uncuffed from the chair and helped to stand. Eason was sitting up in bed. His casted leg was out of the sling, and he had his knees to his chest, watching with his new eyes intently. I looked back at George.

"How old is Ethan?" I asked.

"Twenty-eight," Charles said. "George is thirty if it matters."

I hummed. "Eason likes older me. He always has."

I eyes George. "And... I don't think he's opposed to double the attention... or having two boyfriends."

Charles let out a sharp bark of laughter. George shook his head with a long put upon sigh.

"If this is what I have to look forward to, I'm going to dust off my resume," George said, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Doesn't matter. We'd be family," I said. "And... with an Enforcer, Ambassador person, and a witch chasing him around, no random terrorists will ever have a chance to kidnap him again. I'm feeling better and better about the future."

Charles snickered, and we turned to look through the window as the witches guided Ethan onto another bed and drew a circle around him. Eason was talking to him, but I didn't know what he was saying.

To some degree, it didn't matter. Eason looked at peace. The black eye was fading rapidly as he watched the ritual, and I was just grateful that my brother would be okay.

Days passed since I saw Eason in the hospital. Charles and I came back that night after Eason had gone back to sleep, but I wasn't so nervous. I was ecstatic to tell Cecil that Eason would be home within a few days. We went shopping for a gift for him: a new tie with an abstract pattern Cecil found in a store on clearance, and it almost felt like Blood Moon's attack was just a dream. I went back to work at Wolfe Medical and settled into reviewing the reports about sales and whatever else was coming my way. It felt easy now. I still didn't understand it all very deeply, but the anxiety that had been there before was gone.

I guess I had other things to worry about: chief among them was this challenge I had gotten myself into. Looking back, I know there wasn't anything else I could have said or done that would have stalled for enough time, but it felt too audacious, too ambitious, especially considering that we weren't really even in the black yet.

Could I--Could we really pull this off?

My computer chimed with an email from Amira.

Here are the meeting minutes. I've added some research notes and will update the working document accordingly. I hope you enjoyed your private show! ;)

My face heated as I opened the email. The document was a link to a document on the Shared Drive. It seemed like Amira had been taking notes during my rant to Charles, organizing it into a cohesive and coherent document.

She'd copied in the formal guidelines and requirements for becoming a Senator, and as I read through the document, I felt a pang of anxiety. Eleven months. That's all the time I had, and it seemed like an incredibly short window for something so enormous.

I sighed and rubbed my temples.

"Grace, you've really done it this time."

Then, the door swung open, and I looked up, surprised to see who was coming in.