Page 3 of Clarity

Somehow, I’d deluded myself into believing this was a coincidence.

“We’ll talk,” I promised, looking away from them to go back to my search. “But?—”

“The necklace, right.” Celeste was the first to speak up and Brosia was right there with her. “What does it look like again?”

“A little black velvet box, with a deep scratch across the top,” I explained. “The necklace is inside, a blue-black chain, black setting, and a black stone, a scapolite.”

I stopped, scrubbing hands over my face as I cast my gaze around the room.

The necklace—and the box too—were priceless to me, and weren’t something I would’ve misplaced.I kept it tucked in my bottom nightstand drawer, to keep it close to me instead of locked away in a safe or something. There was no monetary value, except maybe as an antique, and even then… it was negligible compared to the other, obvious treasures scattered around my home.

It wasn’t the type of thing to catch the eye of any thief.

At least, not a typical one.

So where the hell could it be?

It has to be here somewhere.

“Can you think ofanyother possibility of where the necklace could be?” Celeste asked, pulling my attention back to the present.

“Did you lose it while you were traveling?” Ambrosia added. “Leave it in a hotel or something?”

“No.” I immediately shook my head. “I never take it with me. I keep it here, where it’s supposed to be safe.”

“So this is a personal piece?” Ambrosia asked. “Not something for your shop or your collection?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Very,verypersonal.”

Celeste and Ambrosia exchanged a look, and from there, I knew what questions were coming next.

Back to the ones I desperately did not want to answer.

“We can’t keep getting around it,” Ambrosia said. “Tell us why the hell we were able to come through your front door? Anddon’tpretend you don’t know what I mean.”

Shit.

I shrugged. “I mean, look around. That’s a mermaid scale brooch in your hand right now,” I pointed out. “Arealone. Do I seem like a regular type of bitch?” I asked, already knowing I wasn’t going to be able to simply leave it there.

“Okay, you’re not aregulartype of bitch,” Celeste said. “What kind of bitchareyou then? Are you a vampire too?”

“No,” I answered, sighing as I dropped to a seat at the edge of my bed. “I’m not a vampire. I… It’s hard to explain.”

Ambrosia huffed. “Harder than half-vampire, half-immortal who had no idea until my reckless future brother-in-paranormal got impatient and sicced vampire acolytes on me to awaken my powers?”

Good point.

I pushed outanothersigh. “Fine. Way, way back, my ancestors were… sorcerers, to put it simply. Powerful. But a lot of that power was lost—stolen, actually. Siphoned and hoarded by one bitch, for… eons.”

I caught the hike in Ambrosia’s brow over my use of that particular word, but couldn’t derail the conversation with that right now, so I kept talking.

“Through time though, despite that, we’ve been… oracles, mystics, conjure women, shamans…witches,” I said, shrugging. “None of that broom riding shit though.”

“So…you’rea witch?” Celeste asked, brow furrowed in uncertainty.

“Hardly,” I admitted. “I know what I need to know, and can do what I need to do, but I don’t really practice.”

“Why?” Brosia challenged, and I shook my head.

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