Page 243 of Mayhem and Minnie

It seems no one is a fan of witches around here.

“Yes, I know that too. But how do we find a witch that has those plants? Anthropa isn’t exactly a small world.”

His lips flatten. Before I can blink, he’s gone. And before I can blink again, he’s back, now holding an old book in his hands.

“There are a few clans that are purported to be the most powerful,” Molokai muses as he flips the book open. “But there’s only one of them currently in the US and A.”

He passes the book to Minnie, pointing to an open page.

“Stuart,” she reads. Glancing at me, she shows me a genealogical tree. “There’s only one living Stuart witch listed here. Katrina Hale.”

“I don’t suppose you could work your magic and find out where she is?” I ask Molokai.

“Don’t push your luck, human.”

“And here I thought we were becoming best buds.” I sigh dramatically. “We’ll be family soon, Kai. This is no way to treat your brother-in-law.”

His eye twitches. A vein protrudes around his temple as the temperature suddenly drops in the van.

“Kai. Stop it!”

“You are not marrying a human, Minerva,” he growls. “I’ll never allow it.”

“You don’t have to allow it,” Minnie grumbles.

“Oh, come on, Kai! Imagine all the good times we’d have together. We can go fishing and demon killing. Of course you do the demon killing and I do the fish killing—and occasional human killing. Bro bonding style.” I wink at him.

“You will not marry this human,” he amends.

He’s as starchy as Minnie suggested. No sense of humor.

I shake my head in disappointment.

“Both of you. End it. We need to find this Katrina Hale of the Stuart clan.”

Molokai and I glare at each other some more. His nostrils flare. So do mine.

A few moments pass, and once we’re both satisfied with the amount of glaring that has occurred, we finally break eye contact.

“Hand me my phone,” I tell Minnie.

She rummages through one of the drawers and gives me my phone.

“At least use your mighty powers to ensure we don’t crash,” I tell Molokai since Minnie shouldn’t use any more of her powers.

He looks about to argue, but as I take my hand off the wheel, the car remains on a steady course.

I quickly do an advanced search for the name Katrina Hale. It’s useful that the genealogical tree has a date of birth as well, so I’m quite confident I have the right person.

Damn, she’s in her eighties but looking decades younger.

“New Orleans,” I state. “She has a shop in the French Quarters.”

Minnie bites her lip.

“How far is that from here?”

I plug in the coordinates in the GPS and show her.

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