Page 53 of The Forty-Year-Old Virgin Witch

“I was meditating, and we stumbled into each other. I healed her though.”

The witch on the ground blinked, confused. The head witch didn’t look convinced. I put my hands behind my head and forced my face into a bashful expression.

“Look, uh, this is a bit embarrassing. If word gets out I made such a stupid blunder … well, you understand. It’s bad for business.”

An eyebrow raised at me, and I gave her a winning smile.

“How about one favor on the house, and we’ll call it square?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she reached out a hand and lifted the witch to her feet. Her other hand seized mine in a vice grip, and I winced as her long nails bit into the skin of my wrist. I felt her power swell around me.

“You already owe us much after your night in Dublin, warlock.” But she continued. “So mote be it.”

The oath squeezed the air from my lungs, and a moment later it was over. She dropped my hand like it was diseased, and the witches were all backing away.

“We tire of your presence, and you’ve worn out your usefulness. Do not seek us out again.”

One of the figures in a robe twitched, and I grinned as a lock of red hair escaped her hood. The things she could do with her ab muscles….

I resisted the urge to rub my wrist, instead patting my kit to ensure all my bags and weapons were intact.

“Pretty hard to do you a favor if you don’t want to see me—”

The murderous look on the witch’s face made me slam my mouth shut. I couldn’t stand against all of them after using up so much healing power. They disappeared in purple flames, and I sank to the ground.

What. The. Fuck.

How was that witch not a vampyre?

More importantly, I’d just made an oath to work for free. What could be worse?

I ran a hand through my hair, trying not to panic. This was very bad. The last time I owed a witch anything, I’d nearly died. Why was I still involving myself with them? After Dublin, I certainly had enough money to find a respectable place to live, even if it wasn't quite a tropical island. Either way, I never set foot in this rainy, miserable place ever again if I didn't want to.

“Fucking witches.”

I pondered Aggie’s magick, touching its lingering traces in the air. It was more potent than anything I’d ever grasped before. How had she healed that witch? I frowned, knowing I needed to stay away from her in case the coven was following me.

Magick as potent as a vampyre’s didn’t just get eaten away by stronger magick. The balance didn’t work like that. Magick couldn’t be destroyed or created, simply changedor transferred. The witch clearly wasn’t a vampyre, so all of that energy had to go somewhere.

My eyes widened in horror.

“Aggie.”

I whistled, and Ayah’s white feathers flashed at me.

“Find the vampyre. Let me know immediately.”

Feathers flew as she launched into the air, feeling the urgency through our bond. If anything could spot a vampyre in these woods at night, it would be Ayah. I had to do this for Aggie, especially after what I’d done in Dublin. Yes, it'd been a night of fun, but it'd also been a night of sacrifices.

Urgh.

I sank my fingers into the earth, trying to settle and balance what remaining power I had left after dumping most of it on the Gaelic druid. Even though I was male, my power worked the same way as normal witches—an affinity to the earth that was a symbiotic relationship. Mother Earth granted us our powers and abilities, and in exchange we defended and honored her.

It wasn’t any less meaningful or intense just because I had an extra appendage dangling between my legs.

I flicked a dagger from my inner arm to my palm, then nicked my forearm. I didn’t wince as blood poured down my arm and mixed with the ground. If I was going to take on the vampyre and get him to see reason, I’d need an extra boost.

“Manibus Matrique Terrae deberi mihi…”

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