Page 12 of Waltzing With Witches

As she quietly follows, I make a mental note to comm Moira for more potion. The effects must be wearing off, and I can’t have that. I can’t experience Morgan in her full glory without something to tamp down my desire. Especially with her here in my house. I run through the calculations of how likely something is to go wrong, reaching the castle’s kitchen before I realize I haven’t bothered to explain anything about any of the rooms.

I lay her floral bag on the counter, resisting the urge to lean down and smell the clothing inside it. Calling Moira moves to the very top of today’s to-do list.

“I forgot the tour,” I admit.

Morgan stands in the doorway, arms crossed. But this time, she looks more amused than mad. Both brows are curled up, her lips tipped into a barely there smile.

“I noticed,” she says dryly. “Good thing I’ve been here before, I suppose.” Apprehension, or perhaps worry, steals across her elegant features. “I won’t stay long. I need to sort out what crawled up Annabelle’s metaphorical ass, then I’ll go back to the inn.”

Unwelcome emotion stabs through me at her words. Possession. Unhappiness. I think. I can’t be sure. But when she mentions calling Catherine about the Annabelle issue, I don’t want her to.

Which makes no logical sense. One of us needs to call Catherine immediately. The Annabelle is Ever’s only guest residence. She can’t be allowed to behave like this.

I clear my throat. I need a dose of potion quickly. I don’t like the emotions filtering through the fog I’ve been living in for decades.

Mercifully, my comm watch pings with one of the ward-specific chimes. I glance down, then up at Morgan. “I need to take care of this. Please feel free to explore. The castle will let you know if there are any rooms you can’t go in.”

Storm-cloud eyes narrow as Morgan’s mouth drops slightly open. It’s clear she’s going to respond. But then she doesn’t. I turn on my heel and escape the stuffy kitchen, striding through the halls to my command center.

Three walls of beeping lights greet me when I open the door. Many of them blink on and off haphazardly. They’ve been doing that a lot lately, and it’s odd.

I drop into my chair and push a series of keys to run a diagnostic, glancing up at the ceiling. “A ghost in the machine, perhaps?”

The castle doesn’t answer. She rarely ever does.

Sometime later, my watch pings again. The name Moira Finher hovers over its leather surface. Good timing.

When I direct the watch to answer, my old friend’s soft voice echoes through. “Abe, how are you this day?”

“Moira, I need a higher dose potion.” I open a drawer and look in. Inside, only one bottle remains. “Quickly,” I tack on.

A sigh echoes through the watch. “All Keepers mate for a reason, my friend. Are you sure you don’t want to let the chips fall as they may?”

“You know what’s at stake,” I snap.

“Well, I can’t produce a higher-dose potion on command,” she says firmly. “And I’m not in agreement that you should continue taking it. Not now that Morgan is in Ever.”

Anger pierces me as I stand. “Moira, you’ve provided this potion the entire time I’ve been a Keeper. You can’t stop now. There was an incident, and Morgan is in my home as we speak.” My voice rises until I’m nearly shouting into the leather band around my wrist.

“My goodness,” she says quietly, as if gentling a small child. “I think you should consider that it might be fate intervening to push you in the direction you should be going anyhow.” Without another word, she clicks off, and I’m left standing in my command center, staring at a wall of blinking lights.

No potion means no dampening of the pain, the need, the intention.

No potion means allowing all of my vampiric nature to rise to the surface for the first time in decades.

No potion means I am wholly and irrevocably fucked.

CHAPTER FIVE

MORGAN

Istare at the kitchen after the Keeper leaves. This is so fucking awkward. I’m in his castle, alone with him, and he’s left me to go to work. After my experience with the Annabelle, I half expect the Keeper’s home to toss me right out the door. He and I have never seen eye to eye. Somehow, I don’t imagine his castle liking me much.

We should probably get off on the right foot, if that’s possible. I don’t know if or when I’ll be able to return to the Annabelle. Damn, at this point, Catherine and Lou are probably up. I mull it over for a minute but decide they both need to know what’s going on. I can’t hide what happened.

Gritting my teeth, I comm Catherine first, speaking her name into the thin leather band around my wrist. A hologram of her full name pops up.

“Morgan, darling, come down to the kitchen. Lou and I are chatting over coffee and cinnamon rolls!”

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