Page 32 of Last Gift: Supernatural Battle

The lull in the wake of my words wasn’t contemplative as such. More like I’d overwhelmed the coven with information they’d need time to process.

I took a breath. “Now it’s time to join the centering circle if you wish to, or to attend scheduled team meetings. Otherwise, I wish you well in your affinities or projects today.”

I sat, my heart thumping, and magus broke out into murmurs and whispers—some exiting the chamber to do as I’d asked.

I hoped.

Varden murmured, “Nicely done.”

I’d managed to circumvent the subject of the demon gates, my father’s dagger, and a million other incriminating things. Today. What tomorrow would bring was tomorrow’s problem. Corey would be proud of me letting it all flow over me, or whatever.

For now, I had some reading to do on the history of Ogham Staves. I kissed Wild’s cheek on the way. “See you later.”

He squeezed my hand. “You will.”

Huxley hooked my arm as I passed his seat at the table. “I need to speak to you.”

“Can’t,” I answered. “Busy.”

He scoffed. “Make time. I’m important.”

“Has anyone ever commented that you’re arrogant?”

“They describe ancient gods that way too. What’s your point?”

I laughed. “In private?”

He pushed up his thick-rimmed glasses. “Yeah. Probably best.”

We walked to my quarters, and once inside, Huxley cast a nervous glance at the invisible demon gate on the far wall before sitting on the couch opposite me.

“So what happened?” I asked.

He narrowed his green eyes. “You know why I’m here.”

“You gave me a bogus answer the other day when I asked why you went to the other demon gate despite knowing an army had come out of it.”

The grimoire scowled.

I waited, then said, “I have other things to do if you’re going to waste my time.”

“I’m getting there,” he snapped. Huxley shifted on the couch, then opened his mouth. Then closed it.

I stood. “I’m going.”

“There was a woman inside the gate,” he blurted.

That made me pause. I lowered back down. “The woman wasn’t a demon?”

“She was, but most of her caste scales were covered. At least I thought so at the time.”

Demons operated in a hierarchy that seemed to have a lot to do with the color of their scales—and how much of their bodies the scales covered. “What gate was this?”

“The one I visited first. She was standing there, waiting. When she saw me, she was—” He paused as though searching for the right word. “Frantic.”

“In what way?”

He murmured, “At first I thought she wanted to get out of the demon realm. But then, why couldn’t she just walk out like the army? It was as though she was trapped.”

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