Nate wrenched the door open, lunatic glint in his eye.
I held him back. “I should drive.”
“Then let me clean your wound, so it doesn’t blind you.”
knew that would do the trick. He flinched at the idea of me handling
his blood. I wouldn’t keep it without asking, but he’d never trust me
not to. That might have stung, once, but blood is power, especially in
the hands of a witch. He’d seen my creations.
He packed a snowball, wrapped it in an old shirt – mine, of course – and climbed into the back seat, grumbling.