Page 9 of De-Witched

“I need to discuss this with Melly.” His sister was fourteen now, still a minor. August had lived with them when he’d first brought them to America, back when it had all first happened, but had moved out of the New Orleans family manor when Gabriel had hit twenty-five. “And ask Mrs. Q if she’ll look after her.”

August bowed his head. “Of course. And if Mrs. Q feels overworked, Melly can come live with me for the duration. You know I always have room. For you both.”

The rush of emotion didn’t make it onto Gabriel’s face but he nodded. “Thanks, Uncle.”

3

Gabriel took a sip of his wine, a well-aged cabernet, as his little sister doubled over in laughter. It rang around the large room they’d designated as the lounge, sweeping from the Aubusson rug to the twelve-foot ceiling.

“I’m glad you find it so amusing,” he commented, tapping a restless hand against his right thigh.

“Oh, come on, Gabriel.” She threw herself into the deep cushions of the white couch, curling her legs underneath her. She was dressed casually in jeans and a lavender blouse, the charm bracelet he’d enchanted dangling from her wrist.

“I don’t see what’s funny.” He stared into his drink. “I earned that title.”

He felt the slide of a telekinetic touch move through his hair, a sister’s comfort. “You’ll show them,” she said, matter-of-factly, twisting her fall of black hair over one shoulder. “Goodnights always have the final word. Right?”

He put his drink aside on a silver coaster, pushing to stand. He wandered to the mantelpiece, glowering at the fire, which roared to life at a word from him.

His sister didn’t let him brood. “What did Uncle August think?”

Gabriel tossed a look over his shoulder. “He suggested I walk away.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“It’s tempting.”

“Oh, please.” She snorted. “You were born to run the place. Even if you don’t like, you know, the people part.”

He slid a hand into his trouser pocket. “Apparently that’s part of the issue.”

“Huh?”

“August thinks the clause is there to get me out of my comfort zone.” The words were heavy with derision. “So I can take our company into a new era, bring more humans on board.”

“You don’t agree?”

“I don’t see how skipping with humans is going to convince me that they’re any less dangerous, no.”

Melly clapped her hands together. “Please have someone record it if you skip.” She beamed at his scowl, but relented. “Okay, so, basically you have to live as a human. It’s wild. And it sounds like Dad. At least,” her voice got smaller, “from what you’ve said about him.”

“It is.” He didn’t tell her he thought the clause was actually designed to make him quit. He wanted her to know only the good about their parents since she knew so little. “Mell... I want to know how you feel about me going.”

“I’m so jealous. You’ll learn loads.” She shot him an encouraging smile. “You love learning.”

He grunted. “I meant, how you feel about living here alone.” He linked his hands behind his back, watching her face. “I already spoke to Mrs. Q and she’s happy to stay with you full-time, but if you’re uncomfortable at all, I’ll speak to the board.”

Melly waved that away. “It’s three months. And Mrs. Q doesn’t need to stay here, I’ll be fine on my own.”

“No, you won’t.” He shuddered at the idea of leaving his fourteen-year-old sister, an adept witch, alone for twelve weeks. “And don’t even think about visiting.”

Her face fell. “Oh, come on.”

“No.”

She huffed. He knew the subject wasn’t dropped; she was just regrouping. “Whatever, I’ll be fine. Got my potions to keep me busy.” Melly was her mother’s daughter and loved messing around with potions, trying to improve them. Something Gabriel encouraged, even if she had blown the roof off her bedroom last year.

Oh, Goddess.

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