Page 57 of De-Witched

He muttered a curse and August turned from the coffee bar set up in the corner of his office with a quizzical look. “Did you say something?” He proffered the sweet, black coffee he knew Gabriel preferred.

“Nothing important.”

His uncle relaxed on the edge of his desk, as ruthlessly organized as Gabriel’s own. August had opted for espresso and he sipped it, his magic automatically making it drinking temperature.

Considering his own magic was not fully under his control, Gabriel settled in to wait for the steaming liquid in his mug to cool.

“You look tired,” August observed. “Is that why you asked me to conjure the portal? You’re not doing well?”

“I am, actually.” Which surprised him as much as it clearly did August. “I’m not saying I’ve developed a burning passion for the work, but I’m learning.”

“Is working with humans still causing you uneasiness?”

Not in the way his uncle meant.

Holy hell, he’d almost given in to temptation and kissed Leah last night. If he was honest, if those telltale green lights hadn’t sparked into existence, he’d have been swallowed whole by the gut-wrenching desire. Willingly.

Goddess. He wanted to portal to the Sahara, bury his head in the desert sands and scream. Where to begin?

For one, if Leah was a witch and truly understood what those sparks meant, he’d have been mortified. Magical manifestation was something that happened in your teenage years, at least as far as passion went. Anger was allowed, even became a display, like a cobra flaring its hood. But softer emotions like desire?

He blamed the magical binding. His control wasn’t at its peak.

The second, more pressing concern was that he now knew who had been with him on that balcony all those weeks ago.

You can be alone with me.

The phrase had slid into place like a missing puzzle piece. Bits and pieces of conversation had all added up to give him the full picture, and it made him sick with dread. Not because she’d been his mystery witch, but because she’d been on that balcony at all. Bad enough to know about witches. By infiltrating their society as she had, she could’ve courted far worse punishment if she’d been discovered.

Punishment.

His stomach hurt, dark emotions squeezing his chest tight enough to crush his ribs. Every time he thought of it, he couldn’t catch a breath. What had Emmaline and Tia been thinking, allowing her to go? Putting herself in danger for—what? The thrill? The impulse to track Leah down, demand answers, to shake some common sense into her, was overwhelming.

He couldn’t deal. So, for now, he wrestled it into a box, hid it away. He was good at that.

“I’ve found it...easier than I thought,” Gabriel answered his uncle, mystified that the words were true. “I’ve even decided to expand my interests and help plan a charity gala for the shelter. We have access to an array of business contacts all over the country that might help, and it’s good for the company to put our stamp of approval on a charitable event.” All true, but not why he’d offered to help.

August smiled. “Well. That’s fine, son. I’m pleased.” He cleared his throat. “It’s what your father would’ve wanted.”

Gabriel jerked his chin in a nod.

“Perhaps he knew better than all of us.” August stood, rounded his desk to sit in his leather chair. It creaked as he leaned back, steepled his hands. His espresso hovered in mid-air. “Maybe immersing yourself fully was the only way to move forward.”

Guilt sat sickly sweet in Gabriel’s throat. As if he could forget for even a second that his parents had died because they were determined to bring magic, in some small way, to human lives.

Except...he couldn’t paint with his bitter brush as easily as he once had.

Before, he’d have said that humans brought nothing but pain. While humans might selfishly benefit from magic, they couldn’t give anything back, and their ignorance could only invite danger.

But now...his time in Chicago had tweaked his perspective. He’d never said witches were good, humans were bad. Goddess knew and he knew that witches in society could be cutthroat for a slight as simple as ignoring an invitation. And humans could also be selfish and weak. He’d always thought those weaknesses could only implode, like volatile ingredients in a potion. Now he’d begun to consider what each could bring to the other.

Leah didn’t have magic, but she demonstrated strength and intelligence, even correcting some of his ideas for the gala, improving on them. Before, he’d been too swayed by childish fear to really look at the impact their human employees were having on each aspect of the company, but he’d stayed up late all this week reading reports he’d had sent over. The results were good. That slight change of perspective humans could offer was often the key to everything.

He wasn’t saying he was over his parents’ deaths, he didn’t know if he ever would be. But holding onto the grudge was like trying to hold wet soap in his hands.

His mind flashed to another memory, a soapy sponge, white T-shirt material. Black lace.

“Gabriel?”

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