Page 17 of Which Witch Is Wicked?
“But—”
“I’ve spoken. Take her to the conservatory, and I’ll meet you there. I need a moment alone.” Gwen’s authoritative tone left no room for discussion.
“Of course.”
A moment later, the door closed, and Gwen found him on the side of the armoire. She pressed her thin body against him, trapping him as a cloud of cloying perfume assaulted his nostrils.
“My love,” she whispered. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”
“My schedule changed, and I found myself with extra free time. Of course, I’d want to spend it with you.”
He tolerated her kiss and then gently pulled from her, twisting until she occupied the corner. Her shivers of anticipation and delight reached out to him. “I don’t have much time,” she whispered. “Can we make this quick?”
He forced a chuckle. “A man like me never comes quick.”
She laughed, the tinkle of her voice grating on him like the metal of a bobbing boat against a pier. “I suppose not. I do have something I need to attend to for a bit. Do you mind waiting? It shouldn’t take too long.”
He grinned, thinking she’d given him access to their lair while an important visitor was on site. “Why would I mind? Especially considering the possibilities of what might lay in store.”
“This is why I love you.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Shall I ward the door behind me?”
“Do you believe me incapable of hiding or protecting myself from your coven?”
“Never.” She drew a finger down his cheek. “They haven’t a clue how much danger lies in those delectable muscles, which is why I keep you around. You excite me.”
Ah, gods. “Take care of what you must.” While he did the same.
“Back soon.”
He gave her ten seconds to disappear down the hall before he opened the door.
8
No wards or charms existed inside the walls of the coven’s sanctuary. At least not that Dru could detect. Any mastermind protector would know never to use only a single line of defense. One fatal hit would leave the entire compound vulnerable. Lucky for him, the Witches of the Olympic Coven were more concerned about what transpired outside their area than inside the confines.
Transforming to a state where he wouldn’t be detected for any length of time would require much from him, but the possible knowledge he’d receive would be worth the sacrifice.
Silently, invisibly, he stepped into the hall. Hushed whispers of excitement filled the house as others made their way in the same direction. Apparently, everyone was aware of the new visitor and yearned to know more.
The majority of the group passed the closed doors of the conservatory, continuing toward the end of the hall lit with flickering sconces where Dru knew the coven met as a group to chant, pray, and cast spells. Strong magic filtered from that room, reaching out toward him.
“She’s called a meeting,” one witch whispered.
“Report to the Hallowed Room,” said another.
He followed the group of nearly twenty witches as they descended upon their gathering spot. At one point, he found himself sandwiched between three older witches, one of them Claire’s aunt, Justine. He did his best to not touch any of them, hoping to remain undetected.
Unfortunately, Justine stopped abruptly outside the Hallowed Room’s doors, and he couldn’t avoid bumping her. The witch behind him plowed into him as well, resulting in a second collision with Justine.
Claire’s aunt turned with a venomous glare. “Watch where you step, Martha. You don’t need to be so close.”
The grandmotherly Martha widened her eyes in offense. “I beg your pardon. You did this. Not me.”
Dru flattened against the wall and slipped past them. The last thing he needed was for them to come to blows, only to realize an invisible object stood between them. No longer concerned for any noise he’d make in the cacophony of excited female whispers, he found his way into the conservatory, occupying space near a potted tree in the corner where no one else would likely stand.
Fearsome, dark energy blended with other light-hearted traces of past spells, reminding Dru these witches were capable of deadly deeds. Though many of the coven seemed dim-witted and easy to dupe, together, their powers could prove a difficult foe.
“Some are saying she’s a high priestess,” a short witch with a red pixie cut whispered to her equally short, dark-haired friend. “That she’s come from back east.”
