Page 72 of Wolf Hunter

Kicking the snow off my boots, I take a moment to center myself once I reach the top of the steps. Drawing in a deep breath. Holding it to the count of seven before exhaling. Schooling my face into a confidence I wish I possessed.

Fooling them should be a cakewalk.

These women don’t know me. They only know what I’ve shown them, which is sorry little in the grand scheme of things. They never tied my contract directly to me with blood magic, and so they’ll have to take my word on Reid’s death. At least for the time being, until I figure out what the fuck is really going on and get a better plan besideswing itin order.

I knock on the door three times, and the scurrying of feet sounds from the inside. A young witch I remember from the ceremony meets me with a wide smile before standing back to give me room.

“Sisters! She’s here. Tasha is back,” she calls out. “She’s safe!”

Safe, ha. Sure.All a part of my brilliantwinging itplan, and a warm welcome indeed. I’ve never been welcomed so happily after completing a job. A smile, maybe. A handshake or a thank you, definitely. Most people just look awkward because they know I’ve only come back because someone died.

These ladies practically rejoice, swarming around me in a sea of brightly colored dresses and robes. Most of them have left their hair loose, and I run an uncomfortable hand through my own tangled strands. I should have remembered to brush. Oops again.

I’m also not really sure how to feel about their happiness. It seems wrong somehow.

“Come, come,” the young one says again. “Mae is in the back. She’ll want to hear everything.”

Keeping the smile on my face takes a lot of work. I’m not actually prepared for it, and soon my muscles begin to ache and twitch.

Most of the witches gather in a cozy sitting room in front of a happily sparking fire. The seating appears comfortable enough to sink into and stay for an afternoon. Or a week. I eye the couches with suspicion.

Amethyst painted walls add to the homey look as well as an assortment of plants, crystals, and wooden bowls scattered around the space. A candelabra of dull brass holds three candles all burning along with the fire.

“Tasha! It’s wonderful to see you.” Mae rises from her chair nearest the fireplace and crosses the room to gather me in a hug.

I keep my senses on high alert but don’t return the hug, standing stiffly in her arms. Okay. Nothing out of the ordinary there. No bad feelings. At least, nothing compared to the strange otherworldly wrongness I felt in Reid’s hallway all those days ago. Or the burning magic they used to contact me.

Nope. Everything appears normal.

She pushes me away from her to stare at my face.

“Yeah, it’s good to be home,” I say tightly.

I send my senses out in a halo around me the way I did for Reid. Although I’d bet my left leg these witches have all kinds of spells in place. Not only to keep their enemies out but to keep their magic in.

“We were getting worried,” Mae replies. “It took you so long. We were afraid he did something to you. Something awful.”

She’s smiling at me as her eyes scour me from top to bottom. Trying to feel me out? Maybe. I can’t tell yet, and that alone ticks me off.

“It was plenty awful,” I tell her, thinking of the dinners I sat through and the conversations with Bullet and Emily. So… not a lie, exactly.

Having to listen to the conversations around me killed more than a few brain cells.

Luckily, I still have enough left to fib my way through this meeting.

One of the older witches begins to clap from her seat on the couch, her jewelry jingling with the motion. “I can’t believe it’s done,” she says with a breathy laugh. “I can’t believe we are finally free of those animals. No more of us needing to sacrifice our magic for them.” She looks around to her sisters with glee lighting her up from the inside.

A few of them join her in laughter. I do not.

I keep my mouth shut, letting them believe whatever they want to believe. I’m not here to tell them the truth. I’m here to figure out ifReidwas telling the truth and to see which one of these monsters beneath the pretty veneer killed his mother.

For some strange reason, my alliance has tipped barely enough for me to lean in his direction.

“Do you know anything about the late Holden’s mate?” I ask as I perch on the rear of the couch. Adopting a nonchalant posture to go along with my overly confident attitude. “Edmund Holden, that is.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, honey,” Mae answers kindly.

I half shrug, mouth quirking to the side like I’m not sure either. “While in captivity, I overheard some things. Apparently, the woman died unexpectedly.” I pause. “In a ring of magical fire. But that couldn’t be true because it’d mean a witch had somehow gotten into the territory.”

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