Page 25 of The Witch is Back

“Nothing.” Color streaked along her high cheekbones. “Uh, sorry. I...stubbed my toe.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, believing that about as much as he believed in ancient curses bringing mummies to life, like some of the more superstitious humans he’d come across.

“So.” She stared at him as if seeing something other than his face. “You’ll want a drink. Or maybe something to eat?” She gestured at the cake stands that crowded this end of the bar, all covered by glass domes. Inside each were treats that called out to his sweet tooth—plump muffins, glossy cakes, cookies as big as a man’s hand.

“Coffee would be good.” He weakened. “And maybe one of those muffins.”

“Sure.” She filled his order without asking how he took his coffee. Then stared at the black liquid. “You’re Bastian.”

Surprise chased confusion. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“You’ve been mentioned.”

Pleasure snapped at surprise’s heels. “I have? All good I hope.”

“You hope for a lot.” Before he could say anything else, she smacked her head. “I didn’t ask if you took cream or sugar.”

“A little cream would be good. Maybe a bit of sugar.”

“No problem.” She fetched the items, let him doctor it himself. “You’re here to see Emma?”

Bastian swirled the spoon in the liquid, the white rippling through the black until they were one. He cast an appraising glance at the woman. “Is she here?”

“In the back. Want me to grab her?”

“I’ll have this first.” Curiosity compelled him to ask, “Do you work here full-time?”

“In a way.” She braced her hands on the counter. Her nails were painted a fun bright pink. “I own a third of the place.”

Bastian took that on board with a slow blink. He hadn’t known a human also owned the bar; he’d assumed it was just Emmaline and Tia. He’d have thought it was hard to conceal magic use otherwise—though Emmaline had said she kept her powers to a minimum here, he conceded, lifting the coffee cup and blowing across the steaming surface.

Why a bar? The question continued to plague him. From what he’d seen at the ball, she still considered attention as the missing circle of Dante’s hell. Maybe he could ask and begin bonding that way.

He sipped, made a noise of appreciation. “You make good coffee.”

“One of my many talents.” She held out a hand. “I’m Leah.”

“Bastian.” He accepted and was rewarded with a surprisingly firm shake. “But you already knew that. What gave me away?” Did Emmaline have a photo of him from days long gone? The thought brought with it an unanticipated amount of pleasure, which was immediately crushed by his better sense.

“Let’s just say her description was dead-on.” She grinned, leaving him to wonder exactly how he’d been described and how much Leah knew. Her expression held a certain knowing, but it was impossible that she’d know everything, human as she was. He buried his curiosity behind another sip of truly excellent coffee.

“A man who doesn’t immediately demand to know more about himself.” Leah pursed her lips, all laughing eyes and mischief. “I didn’t dare dream you existed.”

“Not going to lie, I have been told I am a woman’s dream man before,” he tossed back. See, he remembered how to do this.

She sighed dramatically. “And pop goes my little hope balloon. Now you’ll either further dash my hopes or you’ll split that muffin with me.”

She talked to him like they were already friends, as if they’d known each other their entire lives. Strangely charmed by the vivacious human, Bastian held out a hand. “Got a knife?”

Leah’s smile widened. “You pass the first test, anyway.”

His heart stuttered. Had that been a Divining test? Or were those words a coincidence?

He’d woken up with an intricate tattoo stamped on his wrist. A calligraphic B and E joined at the top by a crown. The High Family had cast their spell and the magic was now around him, waiting to prove his magic, his nature and how compatible he and Emmaline were.

Would it also ferret out the truth?

Did he want it to?

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