“Anyway, may I help you guys with anything?”
“Not quite, handsome. We don’t have any new clue to work on.”
“Actually, I was thinking, while making my way here, that I could help you in one other way.”
“How so?”
Moira and he had been sitting in their seats for hours now. Anything would certainly be better.
“I’m a necromancer, remember? Well, not fully-trained yet because my mom and Grams had put a spell on my magic to block it off until I turned twenty-one last summer, but I—”
“Dylan!” he exclaimed. “Focus, sweetheart.”
He almost winced at the gleeful look on Moira’s face. He knew he’d be getting the Spanish inquisition sooner rather than later, but he ignored her and gazed longingly at Dylan’s blushing cheeks. They reminded him of the wonderful time that they’d experienced during their picnic the previous evening.
“Damn! Down, boy! What are you thinking about? Ugh, scratch that. I don’t want to know. Cool it with the pornographic thoughts, will you?”