Page 41 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

I laugh, reluctantly amused by their self-deprecation. “She hasn’t had the chance with us. Between your sudden arrival and the carnivorous flowers—”

“Yes, it has been chaotic, hasn’t it? And there I was, ready for a nap in the spot where I thought I was least likely to be disturbed.”

“I’d apologize for interrupting, but I suspect I’ll need your help. Which I appreciate, by the way, even if I don’t entirely understand why you’re here.”

This is a test. I wonder if they’ll address my implicit curiosity or sidestep the issue. I can learn a great deal by what they don’t say. Earlier, I attempted this query, and Rosa stepped in; Zeph let her answer stand without offering any information of their own.

“You were trapped,” they say unexpectedly. “I knew how to help you, so I did. And once I’ve started something, I like to finish it.”

“A quirk of completionism?” I suggest.

“That and pure nosiness, as Rosa said before. It’s entertaining to participate in other people’s conundrums.”

They have a point. Da raised me to be helpful, which sometimes crosses the line into interference. I don’t do it for amusement, though. I help because it’s what my dad would do in the same situation. I’ll probably never be as instinctively kind, as my own nature constantly whispers to take and take and take a little more: Just a taste—they’ll never miss it. I exist in a state of perpetual hunger, afraid of doing harm and becoming a parasite.

“This way, don’t dawdle.” Rosa seems to know how to find the Summer Court, and if she doesn’t, I’m too disheartened to take charge at the moment.

It stung to find out that we spent three days in Macha’s bottle trap. This isn’t like the relaxing lizard vacation; I wasn’t trapped back then, just transformed. And I was too young to put myself in Da’s shoes, so I had no clue he’d be so frantic. At the moment, I’m scared to the point of feeling queasy, battling terror of being banished to the mortal realm and the slow, awful death that awaits. My biological family is there too, but—

“Are you all right?” Kerboros asks.

Lost in thought, I didn’t notice when he dropped back and Zeph sped up to speak to Rosa. “Do I not look that way?”

He studies me critically. “You seem tired. And…” He hesitates. “Unwell?”

“I’m worried. I hope Tara can help us, but I’m not sure about our next move. I hoped Macha would have more specific info, and that idea ended up wasting so much time.”

We never managed to find Nerys either. Maybe I should have gone to her instead. Unlike Macha, she’s always happy to have visitors.

“My fault,” he says softly.

“No, I didn’t mean…” I pause. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What does, then?”

I find myself telling him the truth. First because I don’t have anything left to lose, but also because I’ve come to trust him in the past few days. “I was thinking about my mortal family. In the human lands.”

“Do you want to meet them?”

I lift a shoulder, unable to give an answer. “I’d be lying if I said I have no curiosity whatsoever, but I’m afraid it would hurt Da. As if my curiosity would be the same as saying that he isn’t enough.”

“I do not believe he would see it that way,” Kerboros says at once.

I glance at him in surprise. “Why do you say that?”

“You two share an extraordinary bond. The depth of your love is apparent even to someone like me.”

“Like you, how?” I want him to clarify, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he fixes his gaze on the rolling green hills ahead. The wind lifts his dark-and-silver hair so it streams behind him like a banner. I like the warmth of his skin and the honesty of his eyes, and even the scars he hides beneath the black garb. When he’s not scowling, he’s—

Beautiful. I’m not afraid to shape the word silently, but it is a step too far to imagine anything between us ending happily. At best, it would be a few stolen moments of pleasure, and I would feel guilty the whole time. I’m promised to someone else. Part of me thinks that pledge holds no weight since I made it under duress, but my obedience is what stands between my dad and dreadful things.

This once, I’ll behave and resist temptation. I force myself to focus on his words.

“I regret my clumsiness in Macha’s demesne. I suspect you’re thinking about the mortal realm because you’re worried that you’ll be exiled there.”

That is unexpectedly perceptive. I clear my throat, unwilling to admit he’s right. I have questions about his connection to the swamp witch as well, but this doesn’t feel like the proper time for a long discussion. “Before the worst comes to pass, we have a week to find Devan.”