Page 41 of Wine & Warlocks

Her eyes lit with excitement. His daughter loved nothing more than to be in the know.

With a soft chuckle, he kissed her button nose. “All puppies like to do naughty things. Just like their owner. That’syou, in case you were wondering.”

“I’m not naughty!”

Squinting one eye, he tilted his head and crinkled his nose. “Really?”

With a giggle, she kissed his chin. “Okay, maybe a little naughty. But you love me anyway, Papa.”

“Yes, I do.” He released her and rose to his feet. “Now run along and restore all my abused footwear to their original state—or no pancakes for dinner.”

Her happy smile as she skipped from the room was his reward for not scolding her.

The vibration of his phone chased away the last of his good humor. Checking the caller ID, he sighed and swiped to answer.

“Dethridge.”

“It’s unlike you to not reply to a message. Everything okay?” Castor asked, concern heavy in his voice.

“Right as rain,” Damian lied. “What’s the problem?”

“Ronan, Alastair, and I would like to run something by you.”

He checked his watch and silently debated the merits of allowing Ronan so close to Sabrina when Loman intended to target them both. “How soon can you be here?”

“Two minutes.”

“See you then.” As Damian stared out at the setting sun on the horizon, he sighed. Would there ever be a time of peace in the witch community? Only his daughter could say, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask her.

* * *

To remainalert to external dangers, Ronan kept his attention locked on the landscape beyond the Aether’s darkening garden. He also kept his ear tuned to the conversation between the three friends gathered in the sitting area behind him.

Damian Dethridge, Alastair Thorne, and Alexander Castor—a perfect trifecta. Three crafty men with unique powers, all destined to walk the line dividing good and evil for the ones they loved. Rumor had it, they’d crossed that line plenty of times in recent years. It made one raise a brow at the frequency with which it happened, but Ronan had been privy to enough of their secrets to understand the why of it.

Case in point, Good Ol’ Uncle Alex had the brilliant idea to question the baby Aether about the future outcome of their plan to trap and destroy Loman. But based on their heated conversation, Damian was adamantly opposed to details being revealed foranyreason.

“It would limit the loss of life,” Alastair argued, backing Castor’s request. “People we all care about are putting themselves at risk, Dethridge. It’s only natural to want assurances.”

“We don’t know what kind of repercussions it might have, Al,” Damian replied with what sounded like fatigue heavy in his voice. “We’ve been over this numerous times.”

Satisfied there was no immediate threat outside, Ronan watched the three friends in the reflection of the glass.

“Quentin and I can find a way to summon our future selves, but it would only give us one or two possible outcomes at most.” Castor shrugged. “Option three would be to secure the Traveler’s sphere Athena gifted to Francesca.”

“My understanding is that it was only meant for Quentin’s daughter when she came of age,” Damian warned. “It’s not wise for either of you to use what belongs to another.”

“Could you or I use it?” Ronan asked Damian as he joined the others. “As individuals with uniquely universal abilities, would either of us have the power to turn it on?”

Damian shook his head. “Me, perhaps. You? It’s doubtful. You would need to possess the knowledge to not only activate it, but to control it as well. If one isn’t careful, they could get lost in time with no way to return.”

“That would suck, sure.” Sitting on the sofa, he rested his head along the back and stared at the ornate ceiling of the Dethridge study. “But we can’t go into this blind, Damian. My da is always steps ahead of us on a good day, and I don’t fancy anyone else’s blood on my conscience.”

“It’s quite possible the Fates designed it so some would perish.”

“Do you know that for certain?” Ronan asked him. “You’re the Aether and a law unto your own self, man. There isn’t another who can take your place or offer up your distinctive perspective. The Fates, and by extension the Authority, would be fecking eejits if they punished you for doing what is necessary.”

The Aether’s reaction was wry amusement. “You’re young by comparison to the rest of us, O’Connor, so you don’t know. But my advice to you would be to not throw out statements of that nature. Tempting any of the Fates will cause instant Karma. They don’t like to have their choices questioned.”

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