Page 28 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Four

Thick roots lift from the dirt and the tree sways again.

“There you are,” the Alpha says as he comes up beside me a little breathless, sweat coating his forehead. “Where should we—”

The tree cracks several yards away as the last of its trunk gives. And when it hits the ground, the reverberation sings across the earth.

Bright violet light flashes through the forest as the air takes on the scent of burnt wood and magic.

“What the fuck are you doing?” the Alpha asks. “Everyone in a five-mile radius probably heard that. Is that...fucking hell. Witch magic.” He says the latter like it tastes bitter, and then he wrinkles his nose and waves his hand through the air as if that will help drive the scent away.

I only smell what reminds me of anise and maybe a thread of sulphur. Nothing to gripe about. But wolves hate magic.

“Is that Callum?” Bianca asks.

The Alpha notices the phone.

“Thanks, Bianca,” I say, ending the call.

“I see your witch is already coming in handy,” the wolf says. “Might have been a good idea after all, bringing in someone not of your ilk.”

I smile at him. “I only have good ideas, wolf.”

He snorts and crosses his arms over his chest. “So full of hot air. I’m shocked you don’t float away.”

Now he’s the one smiling.

“You can come or you can go,” I tell him and head off in the direction of the Renshaw house. “No one forced you to join this adventure.”

He decides to come.

Even someone like the Alpha can’t say no to putting a rogue witch house in their place.

The Renshaw house really fits the brand of the witch.

It’s a hulking Victorian with black siding and black-framed windows with trim work that looks like spiderwebs.

When we reach the wraparound porch and start up the front steps, we find no resistance from magic.

The Alpha and I walk right in through the front door.

Of course, that’s just one more sign that we’ve walked into a trap, but I’m going to pretend it’s just the hubris of a witch.

Voices filter out through closed pocket doors to our left.

The conversation is about the Pledging and the Guard.

I count four heartbeats in the room.

The Alpha and I share a look. There are no overhead lights on in the house, only lamps, and the low lighting casts thick shadows. He doesn’t look worried, only eager, and I’m glad of it.

The Alpha nods at the pocket doors and I nod in agreement.

He puts his fingers into the recessed handles on the doors and gives them an outward push. The pocket doors slide open and bang against the stoppers embedded in the tracks.

The room turns to us.

There’s Tabitha, the matriarch of the Renshaw House, and three other Renshaw witches. Two men, one woman. I recognize the woman as being Tabitha’s Irish cousin. She moved to Midnight several years ago and is now second-in-command of the Renshaw House.

The men are lower in the hierarchy, and I don’t recall their names. None of them are suffering any visible wounds despite the fighting at the Pledge Hall. Witches are good at healing themselves, but not as good as vampires and wolves.

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