Ivan
"Witches tried to kill you," Tony crossed his arms and set them on the table as he stared at me. "Now you're sleeping in their house?"
"You're dead," I growl, leaning back in the chair, glaring at my uncle. "How are you here?"
"You're dealing with magic, pup. What do you think?" He arched an eyebrow, his eyes almost the same color as mine, full of amusement. "Goddess knows what they're doing there. Either way, the veil is practically non-existent."
"So, you're really here?" I looked around the room. We were in the den where I'd sat all yesterday and most of today, trying to light candles and cool water.
"No," He used the same relaxed tone I was used to and hated. You had to get him so angry to get a reaction that wasn't this mask. He never showed you how he felt or thought, and I despise it because I can't do it. "Maybe you're losing it. Or maybe you're dreaming."
