Page 27 of The Rowan
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A quick textto Santiago provides us with Amelie’s address. He demands an explanation, and an agreement he can join the discussion. He might be helpful, so I agree, although I keep the details minimal and don’t mention Amelie’s possible Fae heritage.
Instead of driving, Astor creates a portal to get us close to her house. When we step out a minute later, we’re on a country road in front of a large estate. Behind the gates sits a house, its style reminiscent of the Fae, with delicate architecture and fanciful depictions of creatures and elements scattered throughout. Glamorous and beautiful, its picturesque setting is perfect as the ancestral home for witches of bloodline two.
The front door opens, and Santiago steps out. Of course he beat us here. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d come here immediately after our conversation. What I don’t know is whether he’s friend or foe right now. He strides towards us, his face solemn, and stops at the gate. I shift my stance in preparation, while Astor and Theron move in tight on each side of me.
Santiago’s eyes narrow. “You didn’t tell me to expect guests.”
“Good thing we’re not visiting you then, right? What’s going on?” I ask, getting to the point. “We’re not here to fight. If we were, we’d have brought the rest of the cadre. Amelie owes me an explanation, and I intend to get it from her. Tonight.”
He tenses, then exhales. “She’s in the drawing room, and I warn you, she’s pissed you’ve come to her house, a councilmember’s house, to question her.”
“Well, if we’re measuring pissed, I can assure you, I’ll win that contest,” I say coldly. “Please lead the way.”
Santiago opens the gate and motions for us to follow him. When we get to the front door, he walks right in, but Theron and I pause. The door is carved with a montage of animals and scenes straight out of Fae fairy tales. I raise an eyebrow.
He cocks his head and studies the scene on the door. With a glance at me, he confirms the Fae origin behind the craftsmanship. He lightly brushes his fingertips across the door, probably trying to gain insight into the Fae who created them, then he frowns. Either he can’t tell and he’s irritated, or he can tell but the answer is unexpected.
When we enter the living room, Amelie is standing in front of the fire. She turns to face us. “Santiago said you’re here to accuse me of a crime?”
I launch into my inquiry. “I don’t like to play games. It pisses me off further. Tell me, why did you break into my hotel room?” I pause, but she says nothing. “Don’t deny it. The trap reeked of your unique signature—a blend of witch and Fae, because of your mixed heritage.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, child. I didn’t break into your hotel room,” she drawls. “And I hate to inform you, but I’m not Fae. Only pure blood witches can serve on the council. I think they would have noticed if I wasn’t pure.”
“Lie,” jeers Astor, the rune on his arm glowing.
Mmm…a truth rune. I want one.
I contemplate the rest of the runes on his arm and wonder what they do. I briefly recall his rune-covered body but remember little of the details. Of course, I couldn’t stop staring at his cock, so that might be why I can’t remember.
“Ahem.” Theron glares at me while Astor laughs.
“How dare you use soulless magic in my house,” Amelie shouts. “Get out.”
Theron steps forward. “Fae always recognize other Fae, but given you’re a few generations removed, you must take my word for it. A light summer Fae carved the scene on your door—my father’s family. I recognized it immediately, just as I recognize you as a member of my family. Even diluted by a thousand years, blood can’t be hidden. Now, tell us what’s going on,” he demands.
Amelie stumbles and moves to the couch. She glances at Santiago, who’s standing there with a speculative gleam on his face. Her shoulders droop, and she reveals her secret. “We’ve been hiding our heritage for over a thousand years. If Caro or any of the other witches found out, they would banish us.” She pauses and looks Santiago with pleading eyes. “I wouldn’t have gone to Witchwood the other night to meet you if I’d known you were bringing Theron. I knew he would recognize another Fae, and I panicked. I thought if I scared you away, Theron wouldn’t have any reason to come to witch ceremonies and our secret would be safe for another thousand years.”
“Why would the witches banish you? I don’t understand,” I ask, frustration coloring my voice.
Santiago crosses over to the couch to sit with Amelie. “According to our archives, witches have banished hybrids for centuries. They’re afraid mixing with other races will dilute our powers or eliminate them entirely,” he explains.
I stare at him in disbelief. “Amelie is pretty powerful, I don’t think your argument holds merit.”
Amelie interjects, “According to the archives, we used to be significantly more powerful in the past. Each generation gets weaker and fewer are born. But if we mix with other species, witch power will cease to exist.” She leans on Santiago. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I attacked you. It’s not you, I promise. I didn’t want my secret getting out.” Tears roll down her cheeks as she gazes steadily up at me. “What are you going to do?”
Uncomfortable, I glance at Theron. He gives me an impassive stare. I guess he’s not going to give me advice. Astor, either, if I’m not mistaken, although, he at least looks pissed. It’s a good thing I know Theron better now or my feelings would be hurt. I snort.
Squeezing the back of my neck to relieve tension, I stand there and think for a minute. “I’m not sure,” I concede. “You attacked me and vandalized my hotel room. At a minimum, I expect you to pay for the damages.” I pause for her agreement before continuing, “I’ll keep your secret. For now. Not because I think you should hide your heritage, but because I need to figure a few things out first. Okay?”
Her mouth tightens in displeasure, but Santiago puts a hand on her shoulder and she relents. “Being a witch is all I know. It would kill me to be banished. If you decide to tell the council, especially Caro, please warn me so I can protect my family.”
“Agreed. Here’s my number. Send me a text when you’ve paid for the damages. We’ll keep in touch. If you send anyone else after me or the cadre, I won’t be held responsible for the wrath you’ll incur, from me and from them,” I warn.
Astor smiles darkly, and Amelie pales.
Theron turns to me. “Are you ready to go?”
