Page 88 of Big Witch Energy

“Well, I have news. I’m going to take some classes at State to finish out my biology degree,” she said. “And then I’m going to apply to a folklore program at a regional university in western Kentucky. They offer a low-residency master’s degree, so I’ll only have to go to the campus for a week every six months or so.”

Edison gasped. “That sounds amazing! Do you think I could…”

Riley held up a finger. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” Edison huffed. “It fits perfectly with my history background.”

“You already have all of the degrees,” Riley told him. “Leave some for somebody else.”

Edison pouted. “Fine.”

“We have more than enough on our plate,” Riley said, kissing him. “We have enough challenges, enough friends, enough love.”

He sighed against her mouth, “You’re right.”

“Would you two mind not pawing at each other in the presence of the children?” Plover huffed, appearing behind the couch.

“Thank you, Plover,” Mina told him sweetly. “Someone had to say it.”

“Is that so?” Ben’s smile turned predatory as he pulled Caroline into his lap and kissed her soundly.

“Oh, Dad, no!” Mina gagged.

“There’s nothing grosser than parental figure–level PDA,” Josh said, shaking his head.

Caroline tried not to let her heart skip, telling herself that Josh probably wasn’t referring to her as a “parent,” just his dad. But it warmed her soul just the same. They’d accepted her. They loved her and were invested enough in her to be grossed out by PDA involving her.

Aww.

“This is like when Grandpa used to sing Grandma that ‘Sexual Healing’ song when he thought no one was around,” Josh said, shuddering. Caroline cackled as Ben trailed kisses along her neck. Alice and Riley giggled uproariously.

“No!” Plover cried. “This is really too much! Dr. Hoult! This is beyond the pale! Have some common decency, sir! There are ladies present!”

“I’m sorry, Plover, I have a lot of time to make up for, and I’m going to have to claim all the kisses I can, while I can,” Ben replied.

Plover’s eyes narrowed at Ben. “I’m getting my tray.”

Epilogue

Clark

Clark sat at his desk, shrouded in midnight darkness. He contemplated the glass of bourbon in his hand, watching the color shift by the solitary light of his green desk lamp. His burner phone was going to ring at any second, he was sure of it. And he was going to savor this moment.

Despite all the public trappings of “island contentment,” it had been a year of silent, seething frustration for Clark. In the aftermath of his “failure” in utilizing Kyle, Clark had been shut out, humiliated. He’d had several of the Wellings’ locks in his grasp, and they’d just slipped away, with no mistake on Clark’s part but putting his faith in the wrong person. He’d thought Kyle to be the perfect tool—malleable, desperate enough to take terrible risks, not savvy enough to take countermeasures against Clark. To find out that he’d been betrayed by Kyle postmortem…?

Well, Clark was glad the little shit was dead, even if it wasn’t by Clark’s own hand.

Every development since Riley Denton had stepped on the island had been a disappointment. Hell, he’d even lost his vantage point to spy on Shaddow House when Clifford Martin’s incompetence went from helpful (making Gray Fern Cottage unrentable and therefore available for Clark’s exclusive spying use) to obstructive (pissing Ben off so badly that he’d returned to the island). He’d thought he was managing the Wellings’ expectations, even after Kyle’s misstep. But then, they’d shut him out of their operations, ignored him, insulted him, hired an outsider to operate independently of him, and expected Clark not to object. And yes, Clark had been pleased that Cole had been found dead off-island in what he could only assume was some girl-power triumph for Riley and her coven. That could only work in Clark’s favor, making his employers more frantic, putting them at the disadvantage.

Yes, it would make his job more difficult in the long run. But the problem with Cole had been resolved without dirtying Clark’s hands. In the big picture, he considered that a zero-sum balance. Clark was all about the big picture, when the big picture looked like dollar signs.

The silence of his office was broken by the buzzing of his burner phone.

Clark smirked and held his hand over the phone. He let it ring four times. When he finally picked up, he drawled, “Imagine my surprise, to receive this call, when you’ve made it clear that my services were no longer required.”

“Don’t get smart now, Graves. It doesn’t suit you,” the voice on the other end of the line rasped.

Clark snorted. “I can do anything I like. I’m not the one who is losing to a bunch of girls, nerds, and dead people.”

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