Page 131 of De-Witched

“And who is that?”

Gabriel let the truth drop like a witch’s grenade hex. “You.”

Gasps ran around the room, one witch half rising, shaking their head.

August pushed up, slow, incredulous. “You honestly believe I’d harm a human?”

“You don’t like her.”

“I don’t harm everyone I dislike.”

“You also have the most to gain.” Gabriel forced himself to keep eye contact. “You love being CEO.”

August’s hands slammed onto the table in a rare show of temper. “You believe I’d jeopardize my nephew for a job?” he demanded. “You’ve been like a son to me, Gabriel.”

Gabriel felt sickness rise in his throat at the word son. Manipulation. It had to be manipulation.

“Facts are facts,” he said steadily.

“And what are these facts?” August spat, anger alive and hot. “That the human is angling for whatever she can get? That I tried to tell you how she’s making you weak? That I have done nothing but support and care for you and your sister since the day I got the mirror message telling me Alec was dead?” His voice broke. He took a moment, grief touching his face, hollowing it. “I’ve only ever wanted the best for you.”

Gabriel struggled with the emotion clogging his throat. He wanted, with everything inside him, to believe his uncle.

“There’s an easy way to prove it,” Henry spoke up. He nudged Bastian and both came forward. They may have been dressed casually, but nobody would deny the Higher warlocks passage. They stopped next to Gabriel’s uncle, who stared at them like he smelled something bad.

Henry’s smile was thin. “Take a test.”

August’s confusion flipped to consternation. “You expect me to let Bastian Truenote into my mind?”

No. But it was the only way that all of them would know the truth.

“Do it, then.”

Gabriel’s breath left his body at his uncle’s words. His hands unlinked, drifting forward. “Sorry?”

August glared at Bastian. “Do it. I won’t have my nephew think I betrayed him. Not that he should.”

Doubt trickled like a leak from a pipe, eroding Gabriel’s beliefs.

A bluff, he told himself, eyeing August. So, despite the conflict screaming inside him, he gave Bastian the go-ahead. “Do it.”

Bastian turned toward August. “Lower your barriers.”

“You can’t just crash through them?” August’s voice was icy.

Not that it touched Bastian. “Sure, I can, but it’s polite to ask.” With a twist of his lips, he touched his fingertips to August’s temples.

“Maybe you shouldn’t—” a witch from the other side of the table began.

“Quiet,” Henry cut her off.

August stood statue-still as the other warlock’s brow furrowed. Gabriel knew he’d be sifting through the layers, searching in the rooms that made up August’s mind.

He’d asked a mind master once what it was like to search inside a person’s head. She’d described it as like looking through a house, with each person completely unique, cluttered or tidy, big or small, many doors or one open space. It took precision to leave everything untouched, no damage. It was why only mind masters were called upon when spells, hexes or curses rendered a witch locked inside their own mind, or when the High Family wanted someone interrogated. Bastian could make a fortune if he wanted but he’d left society too young to go down that road.

When Bastian’s fingers left August’s temples, the whole room held their breath like an audience in a bad detective show, like the ones Leah had made him watch.

Surprise marked Bastian’s face as he stepped back. “It wasn’t him.”

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