Page 27 of Bait N' Witch

Now the hard part.

“What we didn’t know was he was tracking us. The night Maddie went into labor, he showed up at the house, almost as though he were a Seer and knew the time had come, although, as far as I know, he didn’t have that ability.”

Greyson could still see every nightmare moment of that night if he closed his eyes. “He chose the right time to strike, with Maddie incapacitated by her pain.”

A glance down revealed he’d unconsciously fisted his hands, his knuckles white. With a deep breath, he forced his hands to unclench. “He attacked us in the field as I was teleporting her to the hospital. I defended her, of course, and, eventually, got both of us away. But a stray spell struck her as we fought.”

“And she died in childbirth?” she guessed.

Greyson jerked his head in a nod. “Her heart gave out in the end.”

Again, Rowan reached across to take his hand. “I’m so sorry, Grey.”

Warmth, not the wanting that usually happened when he touched her, but comfort and the sudden sense that he wasn’t alone, just like when he’d shared the girls’ unknown power with her, flowed from her touch through his skin. He squeezed back in a silent thank-you.

“What happened to the warlock?”

“He disappeared. Officially, they assigned the case to a different hunter. Said I was too emotionally involved.”

“He was never found?”

Grey straightened in his seat. “Not for years. But then, last year, he showed up, again using magic to harm others—a nymph and a demigod. The Syndicate gave orders to bring him in.”

She must’ve read the hard satisfaction in his expression, because she let go of his hand, eyes going wide and wary. “You killed him?”

“I did.” He searched her face for any sign of her reaction—revulsion, understanding, anything. But she looked down, hiding her thoughts from him.

After a second, she cleared her throat. “I think you tell the girls that.”

Rowan stood and circled the counter, lifting her pot off the stove.

Feeling suddenly untethered, as if he were a balloon she’d released to float away into the sky, Greyson stood. “All of it? You think they’re ready?”

“I think they’re old enough to understand how she died. I think they also need to know that the man who did it will never hurt them or their family again.”

She was right.

He watched her fiddling with the sauce for a long moment but couldn’t just walk out. Instead, he moved to stand beside her.

“Thank you.”

She flicked a glance his way. “Any time. Now I’d better get this done.”

Still oddly reluctant to leave, Greyson forced himself to nod and walk away.

“Grey—”

He turned back at her call.

“I’m…glad you killed him.”

Chapter Ten

Greyson sat in the circular room where the Covens Syndicate met weekly and did his best to focus his mind on the discussion. But time and again he found his gaze drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows and the view beyond.

Situated on the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada, the modern monstrosity the covens had chosen to erect was as different from his woodsy cabin as a demon from an angel. Constructed from cement, steel, and glass, the structure reminded him of an alien spacecraft. However, it did afford incredible views over the tops of the trees and craggy mountaintops to the towering peak of Half Dome in Yosemite in the distance.

At the moment, Alasdair—the most recent head of the Syndicate and Greyson’s mentor and friend—droned on about the finances. Each individual coven supported itself independently but also contributed to the Syndicate a tax, which was used for mage-wide business. All business was transacted in gold, of course. While they lived in the wider world, they did their best not to be influenced by it or irrevocably tied to it. Alasdair’s report about the gold in their coffers and that in circulation didn’t interest Greyson in the least. Not his department, other than the fact that his paycheck drew from that source.

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