Page 50 of A Roar for Magic

The crow preened. “Finally, someone recognizes my avant-garde artistic installations.”

“And the way you practice your dramatic entrances in the mirror!” Weston added. “Such commitment to personal branding! Such flair!”

“We should probably end this before they start rating each other’s workout playlists,” Clover muttered. She waved her hand, dispelling the magic.

Banner and Weston blinked, then stared at each other in horror.

“We never speak of this,” Banner growled.

“Speak of what?” Weston asked, though his ears burned red. “I was momentarily possessed by the spirit of... excessive positivity.”

“Right.” Clover cleared her throat. “So the formula works. Maybe too well. Now we just need to make it accessible enough for Hudson to steal.”

“You look like you have a plan.”

“I do. I want you and the others to put word out of me having the formula at Weaver’s Botanicals and say it’s ready to be handed to you.”

Rook eyed her with a lifted brow. “Are you using yourself as bait?”

“Not really. I mean, a little. But before you say no, listen to what I’m going to say,” she rushed, “you can all be there. Obviously, not right there or they’ll know from your scent, but far enough to catch them with the formula once he steals it.”

“I’m not sure I like this plan.”

She leaned into him, whispering into his ear. “Come on, you big pussycat. I’ll be fine. Besides, we need to deal with Hudson before he does something crazy like burn down the warehouse.”

He sighed. “You’re right. I don’t like it, but I agree.”

THIRTY

The fake formula sat in its crystal vial on Clover’s workbench in her shop, catching the light like liquid starlight. Her magic hummed through the shop’s foundations, alert for any disturbance.

A protection ward tingled at the back of her mind – someone testing the shop’s defenses.

Clover kept grinding moonflower petals, each stroke of the pestle deliberate and unhurried. Let them think she hadn’t noticed. Let them think she’d grown careless after a long day of work.

The back door’s hinges creaked.

Four distinct footsteps entered her shop, their owners trying for stealth but betrayed by the subtle shift of floorboards. Dark magic slithered through the air like oil on water, making her skin crawl. One of the intruders pulsed with corrupted power that tasted like ashes and grave dirt.

“Miss Weaver.” Hudson’s voice oozed false courtesy. “Working late?”

She turned slowly, taking in his dramatic black cape and the three men flanking him. Two were clearly enforcers, muscle-bound and radiating aggression. But the third... shadowswrithed around him like living things, his magic a perversion of natural power.

“We’re closed.” She set down her mortar and pestle. “Though I’m sure someone of your... capabilities... can read the sign out front. Or did you need help with the big words?”

Hudson’s polite mask cracked slightly. “Amusing. But I think you’ll want to make an exception.” He prowled closer, examining bottles on nearby shelves. “I’ve heard interesting things about your recent work. Breakthrough formulas. Revolutionary applications.”

“My work is protected by client confidentiality.” She smiled sweetly. “But I’m sure a businessman of your caliber understands professional ethics. Oh wait...”

“Careful.” His voice hardened. “Your mate isn’t here to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection from someone who can’t even develop his own formulas.” She leaned against her workbench. “How’s that going, by the way? Still trying to copy Rook’s success?”

The dark witch moved suddenly, magic lashing out like a whip. Clover deflected it with a shield spell, green energy crackling against black corruption.

“Touched a nerve?” She pushed off the bench. “Or just tired of living in your nephew’s shadow?”

“Take the formula.” Hudson’s pretense vanished. “Break her if you have to.”

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