Page 17 of Wicching Hour

“Good enough,” I said. “I don’t want to keep you guys any later. You all have a good night.”

Elizabeth gave a look that said she understood what I was doing, which was a relief. They all went in and closed the back door, leaving just Declan, Bracken, the raccoons, and me. Bracken’s very tense shoulders began to ease.

I went and sat beside Declan, giving Bracken a little more breathing room.

“I originally came over to see if we could take that drive tonight,” Bracken said, “if both of you were available.”

“Great idea.” I popped up, ready to go.

“We need to stop for food,” Declan said. “I’m starving. Then I’ll drive you wherever you want. I just need to be back by ten or so.” At my confused look, he said, “The pack needs more time away from your cousin and her friend. They need to work off the aggression.” He shook his head. “I’m really worried about the ones who are married and have kids. I don’t want anyone getting hurt. We’ll try twice a week runs. If that doesn’t work, I’ll up it to three times a week.”

The wind picked up. The ocean spray hitting me made me feel stronger, ready to take on Calliope. I knew the feeling would be short-lived, but I enjoyed it in the moment.

“What about you, though?” I asked. “You’re working all day and now you’ll be running all night? What if you hurt yourself with a power tool or fall asleep behind the wheel?”

Grinning, he stood and gave me a kiss. “Don’t you worry. I’ve got plenty of energy.” He nudged me toward the back door of the studio. “Go change into something comfortable and we’ll go for a drive.” He turned to Bracken. “Does that sound okay?”

Bracken nodded. “Oh, indeed. Wolves need a great deal of exercise naturally. When one adds in the effects of your cousin and her friend…” He shook his head. “I’ve been thinking, Arwyn. We have to destroy the book too. We can’t keep raising and nurturing this evil.”

My uncle was referring to the demonic grimoire we believed Calliope and a long line of Corey sorcerers had been using over the centuries. He was right. It wasn’t just Calliope, as it hadn’t been just Abigail. We had to destroy the book and end our family’s apprenticeship with demons.

NINE

The Night Owl

After a quick stop at a diner for burgers—plural for Declan—and fries, we started the 17-Mile Drive through Pacific Grove, Monterey, and Carmel. It was dark, so we didn’t have tourists to contend with. The few other drivers we saw probably lived along the scenic route.

Declan drove us in his truck. I sat in the middle of the bench seat and Bracken took the window seat. We had both windows open. Declan was parsing scents, hunting for the sulfurous odor that would tell us demons were nearby. Bracken and I had our eyes closed, focusing on the feeling of magic, trying to sense spells and wards.

There was one stretch of about five miles where we thought the house could be. Declan drove slowly, often pulling over on the narrow road to let others pass him, while Bracken and I concentrated. At one point, we got out and walked a section that had the potential to be hiding a secret lair.

We struck out.

Disappointed, Declan headed for home. When I realized we were close to the Night Owl Bookstore, I asked if we could make a detour. We needed more help.

“Do you remember when I told you we’d met an owl shifter?” I asked Bracken.

He nodded. “Of course. You said her name was Orla. I wonder if she’s a relation of Cowen.” Pausing, he tapped his finger against his lips. “He was a Eurasian eagle-owl shifter, as I recall. Charming man.”

I tried to remember. Turning to Declan, I said, “Isn’t that what Orla is?”

Declan shrugged. “Not sure. What I remember is the tension with the falcon shifter.” He turned off the main road.

“Oh my, yes,” Bracken responded. “Raptors do not get along well. They hunt each other. And if sheisa Eurasian eagle-owl, then she is one of the largest raptors there is. I’m sure the falcon shifter felt very uncomfortable—perhaps even threatened—in her presence.”

Declan nodded. “That guy did take off quickly.”

“I didn’t get fear from him,” I said. “It was more like tightly chained aggression.”

“Understandable,” Bracken murmured. “And you said she owns a bookstore?”

I pointed up the long, dark hill, at the light on top. “That’s it. It’s an old Victorian house she’s converted into a bookstore. I think you’ll like it.”

He leaned forward, trying to get a better look, and I smiled to myself. The more I thought about it, the more Bracken and Orla seemed quite similar. Perhaps all of Bracken’s quirks merely meant he was supposed to be an owl shifter.

One of the side gigs that comes along with being a member of the Corey Council is serving on a committee of supernaturals whose job it is to police other supernaturals. We can’t expect human law enforcement to deal with our enhanced gifts.

I’d met Orla recently when we’d been investigating a possible abduction. An almost-victim had been able to break away from a supernatural serial killer and run to the light on the top of the hill, Orla’s place, Night Owl Books.

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