Page 50 of Witch's Promise

Gabe straightened up, a determined set to his jaw that Sean remembered all too well. It was the look he got when he was about to do something either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid - often both.

"We start by going over every inch of this place," Gabe said. "Whatever magic they used to attack us, it had to leave some kind of trace. Lucas, I want you on that. Your sensing abilities are the strongest."

Lucas nodded, already pulling out what looked like a crystal pendant. "On it. I'll start with the backyard and work my way in."

"Marcus, I need you to run a perimeter check. See if you can pick up any unusual scents or energy signatures. And keep an eye out for any witnesses - someone must have seen or heard something."

Marcus grinned, a hint of eagerness in his expression. "Fast and thorough, that's me. I'll have a report for you in no time."

Gabe turned to Sean then, and for a moment, it was like no time had passed at all. They were just two kids again, facing down the latest magical crisis to hit Salem. "Sean, I could use your help going through the house. Fresh eyes might spot something we've missed."

Sean nodded, ignoring the way his heart leapt at the prospect of being useful. "Whatever you need, Gabe. I'm here."

Chapter 15

Sean

He stared at the imposing structure before him, a knot forming in his gut. The night before had been a bust, with Gabe and his team coming up empty-handed despite their best efforts. At least Finn had managed to purge the dark magic from Damian's system, though the man remained in a magically induced coma. Small victories, Sean supposed, but it didn't feel like enough. Not when Jessy was still missing.

Now, standing in front of his childhood home - if you could call it that - Sean felt like he was sixteen again, dreading another "lesson" from his father. The massive building sprawled at the edge of Salem, hidden from prying eyes by old money and even older magic. It was a fortress, a testament to his father's paranoia and power.

"Fuck," Sean muttered, yanking off his motorcycle helmet. His hair was a mess, but that was the least of his worries. He had bigger fish to fry - namely, confronting the man who'd shaped him into a weapon and then acted surprised when that weapon turned on him.

The gate creaked open, a sound that sent shivers down Sean's spine. Some things never changed, it seemed. As he approachedthe front door, a familiar face greeted him. Flint, one of his father's many lackeys, but one Sean had always had a soft spot for. The guy was alright, just led down the wrong path - not unlike Sean himself.

"Well, well," Flint drawled, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Long time no see, Sean."

Sean managed a tight smile. "Hey, Flint. Dad around?"

Flint nodded, his expression sobering. "In his office. Fair warning, though - he's in one of his moods."

Great. Just fucking great. Sean steeled himself, nodding his thanks to Flint before stepping into the house. The silence that greeted him was eerie, unsettling. Usually, the place was a hive of activity, full of hushed conversations and the barely contained energy of people planning very bad things. Now, it felt like a tomb.

Sean's footsteps echoed as he made his way up to the second floor, each step feeling heavier than the last. His father's office door loomed before him, an ornate monstrosity that had always seemed designed to intimidate. Sean remembered standing here as a kid, heart pounding, wondering what fresh hell awaited him on the other side.

Some things never changed.

Sean's knuckles rapped against the heavy oak door, the sound echoing in the oppressive silence of the hallway. His father's voice, as cold and commanding as ever, beckoned him inside. Taking a deep breath, Sean pushed open the door, steeling himself for the confrontation to come.

The office was exactly as he remembered it - all dark wood and leather, reeking of old money and even older blood. But something was off. The room felt emptier somehow, missing a key piece of the tableau that had haunted Sean's nightmares for years.

"Where's Riley?" The words tumbled out before Sean could stop them, his eyes scanning the room for his father's ever-present right-hand man.

His father looked up from the papers strewn across his massive desk, genuine surprise flickering across his features. "Sean? What in God's name are you doing here? Alone, no less."

"I need to talk to you about something. Something important."

His father leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. "Oh? Have you finally come to your senses? Decided to return to the fold?"

For a split second, Sean saw a flicker of something in his father's eyes. Hope, maybe? The hint of the man he'd been before everything went to shit, before power and paranoia had twisted him into something unrecognizable. It made Sean's chest ache with a longing he thought he'd buried years ago.

"No," Sean said, hating the way his voice caught in his throat. "That's not why I'm here."

The hope in his father's eyes died as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the familiar cold mask. Sean reached into his pocket, fingers closing around the small glass vial. He placed it on the desk between them, the innocuous-looking bottle suddenly feeling like it weighed a ton.

"What's this?" His father asked, though the tightening around his eyes told Sean he already knew.

"You tell me," Sean replied, fighting to keep his voice steady. "It's the same shit we used to use to nullify a magic user's powers. Found it at the scene of an attack last night. The Reed residence."

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