Rhys turned to Vivi, his eyes serious. “It’s my father. He’s here.”
Chapter 27
Rhys had thought it was odd seeing Vivi in his father’s house, but that had been nothing compared to seeing his father in Vivi’s house.
Well, her aunt’s house, technically, but it might as well have been Vivi’s for as much time she spent there, how natural she looked sitting at her aunt’s kitchen table, a mug of steaming tea at her elbow.
Simon looked a little less natural, but then, to be fair, he was staring at a talking cat.
“Treats?” Sir Purrcival asked as he attempted to headbutt Simon’s arm. “Treeeaaats?”
“What on earth is this abomination?” Simon asked, drawing his arm back even as Gwyn rose from her seat and heaved the cat up off the table.
“He’s not an abomination, he is a precious baby. Although we do need to work on his table manners.”
“Mama,” Sir Purrcival purred, looking up adorably at Gwyn as she carried him out of the room, and Rhys saw his father give a shudder before reaching for the mug of tea Elaine had brought him. It got about halfway to his mouth before he seemed to think better of it, setting it back down so hard it sloshed over the side.
“It’s not poisoned,” Elaine said, coming to sit next to Vivi, briefly patting her niece’s shoulder as she did.
Sniffing, Simon pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the spilled tea. “Given this family’s predilection for harming members of my family, you understand my concern.”
“Da,” Rhys said, his voice low, and Simon flashed him a look Rhys had seen a thousand times before: that mix of irritation and warning, plus just the slightest hint of bafflement, as if Simon could not believe this was his son.
“Am I wrong?” he asked Rhys now. “Do you or do you not find yourself under a curse placed by this very coven?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Elaine said, stirring a spoonful of honey into her tea. “We’re not a coven. We’re a family. And this curse is very much accidental, as both Vivi and Rhys have explained.”
Simon sniffed at that, sitting up straighter in his chair. “There’s no such thing as an accidental curse. And now, thanks to this foolishness, this entire town, my family’s legacy, is apparently cursed as well. Now, from what I can gather, this has resulted in several accidents, plus a ghost being loosed, and also that living nightmare you call a cat.”
Gwyn had just walked back into the room, and now she leaned against the doorframe between the kitchen and the hall, folding her arms over her chest. “Seriously, dude, don’t care whose dad you are or how fancy a witch you are, keep talking shit about my cat, and I will personally kick you down this mountain.”
Simon started to go a little purple in the face at that, so Rhys stepped forward from his own spot near the stove, hands lifted. “All right, let’s all just calm down and focus on the matter at hand.”
Oh Christ, he sounded like Wells. What a nightmare.
Clearing her throat, Vivienne tucked one leg underneath her and looked across the table at Simon. “We’ve been doing all we can to get the curse reversed, Mr. Penhallow. All of us, even Gwyn. We’re trying to make this right.”
“And what exactly have you been doing?” Simon asked. His tone was still frosty, but at least he wasn’t shooting daggers from his eyes at Vivienne. Small mercies.
Vivienne pressed her lips together, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before saying, “Well, we’ve been researching.”
“Books?” Simon asked, his brows drawing together, and Rhys frowned.
“Why are you saying ‘books’ like that? You love books. If you could legally make books your children instead of me and Bowen, I think you would. You’d keep Wells, obviously—”