I've decided to give you guys a super long chapter even though I've been trying to be better about keeping my word count to a decent number. Is anyone else having issues with following people on wattpad? for the past two weeks I haven't been able to follow anyone but there are people following me so it's working for some people.

Happy Reading.

Love
NJ Kuhr
XOXO

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She had been boiling the eucalyptus for a few hours, collecting the steam in a disposable coffee filter so she could extract the oils. It was the best she could come up with under short notice and she wasn't about to walk back into that room and ask for more supplies. So she made it work with what was available. While that was collecting, she took apart the poppy roots. She needed to scrap out some of the berberine salt, it was a taxing process.

She was in the first room from earlier. Oliver and the other Warlocks had stayed in the back room. She imagined they were discussing the Amethyst and other Circle related matters she wasn't supposed to know about. It bothered her but there was nothing she could do about it. Warlocks! She was so caught up in her own thoughts she was making hand gestures and occasionally making scoffing noises, mumbling words like conceited, egotistical and barbaric.

Creating a tea that could help Phillip was something she could do so she threw herself into the project. She was trying not to think about how sexist it was that she was in the kitchen and they were talking shop out of hearing. What is this, 1920? But, she knew it had nothing to do with that. Warlocks were only born male and that was the way the world worked. She blamed the y chromosome. Clearly there are a few genetic defects evolution hasn't been capable of ironing out.

She wasn't a member of the inner Circle. They wouldn't have let any other lower ranking Warlock enter their discussion either. She was kept out because of their damn paranoia and twisted code of secrets. Regardless, man hating was helping her feel justified. She was going to make herself useful.

To hell with them, she could do more than warm Oliver's bed and she was going to prove it. It might not be what she was hired for or what she was trained for but she had been the one to decide to keep that between her and Oliver. She couldn't justify being pissed off about it now. Although it did make her feel better. Twice in one day her temper had gotten the better of her. She may have over reacted slightly but she stood by what she said. She knew her fit was a little childish but she was too irritated to care.

She had enough of the berberine salt, she only needed a small amount. Too much would only make him worse. She then turned her attention to the angelica root, crushing it into dust a little more arduously than was needed but taking her anger out on the plant did uplift her spirits considerably. She added the thistle to the angelica powder and carefully broke them open into smaller pieces. She had enough to last a few days. She couldn't tell how sick Phillip was but this should help even the worst of cases.

If not, nothing she knew of was going to be any better. She was going to ask Oliver to cast a Reficiat spell over the tea bags. It worked as a magic antibacterial spell. The Healers could use magic to enhance the remedies but this was the closest she could get on her own. 

She had her tea packets and started dividing the mixture into individual bags. She added a pinch of the yellow salt and a few drops of eucalyptus oil then sealed them. She boiled clean water in a separate pan and poured it into a mug. She let the tea bag seep for a few minutes and then took it into the next room.

The Warlocks stopped talking abruptly when she entered the room. Seriously, could they try to give a little more effort into being subtle. Apparently not. They all stared at her waiting for her to explain why she interrupting them. Except Oliver, who gave her an apologetic expression.

Stepping up to Oliver, ignoring everyone else at the table she raised an eyebrow at him, clearly expressing she was not going to accept the apology on his behalf. "Would you mind? It needs a Reficiat spell cast over it." She asked grudgingly.

Oliver didn't respond, raised his hand over the tea bags she presented to him and did as she asked. He stared into her eyes as he did so, smiling at her. She couldn't help it, she smiled back. Knowing he was trying to prove to her he was different than the others and knew her worth more than they did without giving their purpose away. 

She turned back to the others, giving the Warlocks at the table a superior look and deliberately making eye contact with both of them so they knew she wasn't intimidated by them. She stepped away from the table and walked over to the bench to sit down next to Phillip. The other Warlocks watching intently.

"Here, drink this. It's going to be a little bitter but it should cure the infection." She handed him the mug. "It might make you drowsy but you should sleep anyway. I have another cup ready for you if you wake up. It might take a few doses but I don't how badly the infection has spread."

She watched as Phillip lifted the mug to his lips. Taking a sip he made a face at the taste but forced it down. "Thank you." he sounded sincere as he handed her the empty mug.

"You're welcome. I'm sorry but sugar counters the healing effects." She smiled at him. Well, maybe Oliver isn't the only exception.

She stood up and started to walk out of the room but Marcus called her name. ​"Reagan?" She looked over at him. "I imagine you're hungry after all that work. It's been a long day for us all. Would you join us for dinner?"

Again, she got the impression it wasn't a choice but he was trying to smooth things over by at least asking. She clinched her teeth against the underlining suggestion that she was beneath them. Like a commoner given the opportunity to eat with kings. She had liked Phillip and Oliver wasn't a complete pompous ass but she had firmly decided she didn't like Peter or Marcus; regardless of their abilities. It was a step up from earlier at least.

"Sure." She couldn't quite suppress the sarcasm but Marcus didn't appear to hear it. Oliver, however, did. His eyes flashed with amusement. Reagan managed to stop herself from grinning back at him but the urge quickly dissipated when Marcus indicated she should sit next to him again.

That put her in between him and Peter but away from Oliver which was conflicting. She was happy she could sit away from Oliver, she needed to put some space between them until she could figure out what his little rant meant but wasn't sure if it was worth being next to the two people she'd come to dislike so much.

Oliver didn't look pleased with the arrangements either but wasn't going to choose for her. The thought never crossed his mind. Her independence was something he admired. He simply hoped she would choose to sit next to him and waited for her to make up her mind.

She waited a beat, trying to decide if it would benefit her to purposefully ignore Marcus's gesture and sit somewhere else. She wanted to stand up to him, she couldn't stand bullies. She couldn't see how it would hurt later on, although she was more than a little concerned it might come back to bite her.

Making the decision to set a precedent for herself and take a stand. Cement to everyone that she wasn't going to be ordered around like some hired companion. She stepped forward and sat in the chair between Peter and Oliver determined not to look away from Marcus.

Peter looked at Reagan as if he was seeing her for the first time. "Well, what do you know. The human has spunk." He nudged her in encouragement, ignoring the irritated expression on her face.

Marcus looked annoyed as well but conceded. She continued to stare him down until he turned his attention back to Oliver. "You sure can pick them." He reached for a spoon that wasn't there seconds before and scooped out a large portion of pasta salad onto the plate in front of him.

Oliver chuckled. "I know." He began cutting off slices of roast beef and looked over at Reagan to see if she wanted any.

She nodded. "Yes, please." He used the knife and fork to transport a few pieces onto her plate as she reached for a bowl of freshly baked rolls that were still warm as if they had just come out of an oven. "That's plenty. Thanks." She saw Oliver look over her shoulder at Phillip with the same suggestion. She turned to look behind her just in time to see Phillip digging into a plate of his own.

There were veggies cooked into the juices of the roast, mashed potatoes and a bowel of gravy. She took samples of everything. It was delicious, of course, and as usual, Reagan ate a reasonable amount then watched as the Warlocks devoured enough food to feed a small army. A wine glass appeared next to her plate.

She looked up at Marcus, guessing correctly were it had come from. He tipped his head in acknowledgement. It's official. Marcus is a creep. She reached for the glass and took a sip. It was a vintage blush and a good one. Pinks might not be the most valued of wines but it was her favorite. She'd take cheap boxed wine over an expensive red.

Not sure how she felt about Marcus knowing this or if he had just guessed. An aged red or white would have been meant to impress her but by selecting a pink for her he was trying to intimidate her. Make her feel like he knew things about her that he shouldn't. She tried to behave as if she wasn't aware of this coincidence or his attempts. She had hoped it would be nasty but she was disappointed to discover she enjoyed it. She reclined into her seat and waited patiently drinking her wine. Doing her best to give Marcus the dirtiest looks she could muster. Time for the bitch face. She imagined the look Sophia the Witch often showed when she was feeling full of herself.

She was hoping Marcus would get the hint and for the time it seemed he had. Oliver was either used to this kind of behavior from his so called mentor or he was ignorant. A trait Reagan didn't think he possessed so she assumed he was aware. She could handle herself and he knew it so he didn't interfere, that and she could tell he was entertained by her reactions.

Peter started a conversation with Marcus about possible locations for the other factions. Reagan kept listening but it was obvious their conversation was under the assumption that she didn't know anything. They hadn't given anything away but she could read between the lines. It goaded her that they thought so little of her intelligence but she wasn't about to educate them on their oversight. Oliver's expression made it all too clear he was well aware of it. It was like his own little private joke that they sat there talking about it with her listening to every word.

"James is bunkered in his hometown in England. He'd require everyone to meet him at his family estate." Marcus informed them. He avoided terms like faction and Circle. To anyone else they could just be talking about a rival they despised. "He probably stashed it there. It's well protected against thieves."

He was talking about the Amethyst, Reagan took another sip of her wine acting bored. She twirled the liquid around in her glass.

Oliver didn't indicate anything but Reagan sensed his excitement, ecstatic at the topic of conversation. He was like a child, elated that he knew something they didn't. "I just don't think James has the gumption to pull off something like this." He argued. "He doesn't have the intellect to even consider doing it."

They discussed the pro's and con's of each argument, went over other possibilities for hours. Reagan deliberately making facial expressions at weird times that didn't fit into their conversation as if she was day dreaming about something else and not really listening. It had grown late and they were still sitting around the table. Who could do it, who couldn't. Who had motive. It sounded to Reagan like they were repeating the same arguments. She didn't know any of these people but she kept careful tabs on everything that was said. Committing the list to memory, trying to cross check any tidbits that might have come up during her own investigation. So far she hadn't heard anything that may indicate the person the vendors had described.

Remembering Phillip, she turned in her seat. He had fallen asleep, head tilted back against the wall. She set the wine glass on the table. It was still full, no matter how much she drank it stayed full. She kept her consumption to a minimum but it was evident Marcus had hoped she wouldn't. Playing the roll, she behaved intoxicated. Making her movements jolted  and a little less than controlled.

She got up from the table and went to check on Phillip, making sure she didn't walk a perfectly straight line. He didn't budge when she sat next to him. He looked better. The sheen from perspiration had diminished. She rested the back of her hand on his forehead, his fever was down and he had a little more color in his face.

She heard Oliver interrupt the discussion. "I believe it's time to call it a night."

"Yes, it is." Marcus agreed. "I assume you can manage on your own."

Oliver's hand curled over her shoulder. She turned up to look at him. "Ready to go?" He asked.

She wasn't sure what he meant but that wasn't anything new either. "What about Phillip?"

"Marcus will take care of him. You've done more than enough." He smiled down at her and stepped back patiently.

Reagan glared at Marcus as he walked over. "If he wakes up make sure he drinks another glass of tea. It'll taste better if it's hot." The tone of her voice deliberately cold. She stood up before he made it across the room so she could put herself out of his reach. He noticed her attempt and gave her an unpleasant smile. Before she knew what she was doing she had angled herself so Oliver stood between them. She hadn't meant to but the Warlock made her skin crawl and any amount of distance she could put between herself and Marcus she would.

She wanted to remind Marcus she had come with Oliver without encouraging Oliver and had subconsciously used him as a shield. Oliver's bemused expression informed her she had failed in discouraging him. Oliver shared another meaningful look with Marcus which was really beginning to make her mad. It occurred to her after hundreds of years Oliver simply got used to despicable character traits. Long term friendship must outweigh the negative.

            ​"I will give you my word he'll drink the tea. He's recovering immensely from the first one." He reached down and took Phillip by the arm then they were gone. She looked over at the table to discover Peter had blinked somewhere else as well. Judging by the time of day it was and the hours they'd spent talking at the table she guessed it was nearly midnight and everyone had scattered. She was hoping they would talk through the next hour or so to see if any of them made up an excuse to leave but it wasn't midnight yet and all of them had taken off somewhere.

Oliver smiled down at her and then faltered when he saw the look on her face. She didn't look very happy about being alone with him. "Reagan?" He stepped towards her but she didn't meet his eye. "Have I done something?"

"You've done a lot of things. We all have done things. You're going to have to be more specific." She retorted.

"Don't play dumb with me," There was a bit of an edge to his voice. "We both know you are anything but."

"You hired me to do a job." Reagan crossed her arms. "I'm upholding my end of the contract." She tried to go around him but he cut her off.

Oliver was irritated. "Damn it. Reagan. Cut the bull shit." He grabbed her by the arms to prevent her from going anywhere. "You've been distant with me all day. What is going on in that head of yours?"

"I've just come to understand the limitations of this arrangement. I don't want to create any more false expectations." She tried to sound indifferent but fell short.

"Limited arrangements?" Oliver was confused. "I wasn't aware the arrangements came with limits. It wasn't something we had discussed." His fear from earlier returning. The Circle might not be the only reason he had to worry about never seeing Reagan again.

"Well, maybe we should clarify the endgame. Once we've recovered the Amethyst and the Circle is reestablished, I am under the impression you and the Circle will be wiped clean from my memory."

Oliver's head snapped back, her words confirming his sudden intuition. "I had no intentions of erasing the memory of me at all. When did that become part of the arrangement?" he demanded.

Reagan didn't know how to say what she was thinking so she stayed quiet.

"Reagan," He persisted, "When did that become part of the arrangement?"

"When you established your priorities, I realized I had made some presumptions that weren't exactly realistic."

"I have a number of priorities, you being one of them." Oliver interrupted her. "I don't want to remove certain memories." He angled himself so they were face to face forcing her to look at him. "I'm not going to take any memories of me away, most importantly the memory of yesterday morning if that's what you are referring to."

"Well, that is on the top of my list of the memories you'll be taking with you when you leave." Reagan was trying so hard to contain her disappointment it came out in a whisper but Oliver caught every word.

He suddenly recalled his rant the night before. His quick disregard of their time together in his guilt over leaving his friend to fend for himself. He knew exactly what it must have sounded like.

"Shit." he exclaimed. "I know what I said but it's not what you're thinking. I know I was being a jerk and an inconsiderate idiot but I did not mean it the way it came out."

Reagan stared at him, unsure if she should believe him. "How else was that supposed to come out?"

"I was trying to berate myself. I don't regret one second of my time with you. I don't. I felt guilty because while I was with you, Peter was alone in the dark dying." He stepped closer to her. "I shouldn't have said what I said. It wasn't aimed at you. Yesterday was one of the best mornings of my very long life. It is not something I will be forgetting any time soon and I'm not going to allow you to forget it either."

Reagan felt her anxiety began to dissolve. "So when this is all over?" She started, trying but failing not to get her hopes up.

"I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to." he finished for her. "And even if that is what you want, you are going to have to amp up those runes on your windows because I'm going to go all out Lloyd Dobler on you."

Reagan laughed. "For the sake of argument, I'm going to accept that you can produce an old school boombox on a whim but if you show up outside my apartment with one I will find a way to kill you. Immortal or not." She closed the distance between them and leaned into his chest, relieved.

He folded her into his arms. "You could ask me how to kill me." He teased kissing the top of her head.

"You do owe me a few questions." She agreed stifling a yawn. She did feel kind of bad about her reaction, it was a little over the top.

"Now, before I take you to bed," He stated realizing how exhausted she was, he pulled back so he could look at her face. "Will you stop pushing me away?"

Reagan pretended to have to think about it. "For the moment."

"I'll take it." He said pulling her back against him and blinked them out of the cabin.

She moaned into his chest. "I hate blinking." She felt as if her insides had been twisted, pulled and stretched.

"I know." Oliver stepped back. They were standing in another cottage built almost exactly like the first one. There was a different style of stove but it was sitting in the same corner. A futon was were the cots had been but the fireplace was the same. There was a hallway in the rear and Oliver was heading towards the back room. Reagan looked around her and then proceeded behind him. She peaked into the first door and recognized a bathroom, presuming the other cabin had one as well since they were exact twins of each other, then continued down to the back room. This was furnished like a bedroom. An old metal bed frame was pushed into the far corner. There was a built in bench exactly the same as the other one too. She imagined they were probably in a camp of some kind with more than one identical cabins.

Oliver was working on building up a fire in an old wood burning stove. She was a little cold. Warlocks aren't as sensitive to this type of thing so she guessed it was for her benefit. She crawled into the bed assuming her usual side and shimmied under the covers. Sure enough, she could see another cabin from the window. It was back in the tree line but she could see the lights in the windows.

She watched as Oliver tugged his pullover up and over his head, then removed his jeans. He slipped into the bed next to her and reached out to pull her closer to him. Realizing she was still in her cargo pants and zip up he drew upon his essence and she was instantly in one of the camisole sets she favored. She cuddled up to him, smiling at his thoughtfulness and kissed him in appreciation.

"Will you do me a favor?" He whispered, she hummed agreeably, "Next time you're mad at me, will you just tell me right away so I don't have to go all day wondering what I've done wrong."

He waited for her response but when all he got was silence he titled his head towards her. She was curled up, burrowed into his chest fast asleep. He laid awake for a while longer but eventually he also lost consciousness.