Page 96 of Boss Witch

“Grandad! What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been missing you for twenty years, my lad. Now that the dust has settled and we made some personal arrangements, I couldn’t wait a minute longer.”

Delighted, Gavin hugged his grandfather again. “So glad you’re here.”

“As am I.”

Gavin turned to the man who had to be Grandad’s partner. “Gavin Rhys, it’s so nice to meet you.”

They shook hands, then the man said, “I’m Samuel Banks. Don’t call me Sam.”

“We’ve been together for a long time,” Grandad put in. “You can think of him as another grandparent, but he might not warm to the notion of being addressed informally right away. He’s a bit of a stickler for the proprieties.”

“Good manners never go out of fashion,” said Samuel.

Gavin found himself smiling, enjoying the interplay between the older men. Stepping back, he waved them into his small flat. The place must look a bit dingy, but they ought to be used to close quarters; their boat probably wasn’t a luxury yacht.

“Are you interested in the amnesty program? You can learn all about our actual history and learn to use your magic properly. It’s all been rather incredible.” Belatedly he realized he was babbling. “Sorry, have a seat, both of you.”

The small living room had two loveseats, a low table, and not much else. This place wasn’t designed for entertaining. Fortunately, they didn’t mind snuggling up while he put the kettle on. That was the first thing he’d purchased. He refused to make tea in a microwave.

I’d rather eat with my feet.

“It’s so good to see you,” Grandad said.

“Hard for me to believe you’re actually here. Toward the end, my life was a nightmare, and it’s as though I’ve finally woken up.”

“I know the feeling,” Grandad said.

“Do you think Da’s doing well?” he asked.

Grandad swapped a look with Samuel. “If he doesn’t cooperate, he’ll receive a taste of his own medicine,” Samuel said eventually.

“I can’t get over all the lies he told me.” Gavin let out a sigh, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.

He wouldn’t blame the other witches if they hated him for who he was. Yet they didn’t, just as Samuel seemed to adore Grandad.Maybe there’s hope for Clem and me.

“It’s not your fault, my lad.” Grandad patted him gently on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’re confused, but the important part is you’re learning the truth now.”

“Come to that, I do have one question, and my professors don’t know. Maybe you can answer?” It might be a long shot, but Grandad had a unique perspective from his time as a witch hunter, then later, when he bet everything on love—­and Samuel Banks, who’d probably been teaching him about witches for the past twenty years.

“I’ll do my best,” Grandad promised.

“Since hunters and enforcers are witches, using magic to track other witches, why didn’t we ever get false positives from our own?”

“Likely we did,” Grandad said. “Sometimes we never found anything for all our looking and concluded that our enemies had gotten impossibly clever, but in fact—­”

“We were pinging our own people?”

“It’s probable. But over the years, our powers became quite different because of the way we used them. So I think—­and this is just a theory—­our powers turned inward, becoming almost more of an ability than true witch’s magic.” Grandad glanced at Samuel. “Does that sound reasonable?”

The other man nodded. “It does. And with the enforcers, what they do is localized and it’s done quickly. I doubt it would’ve spiked enough for anyone to notice it.”

“Makes sense.” These theories couldn’t be proven, and Gavin was glad to be done with the order. With a smile, he changed the subject. “Either of you hungry?”

“I could eat,” Samuel said.

Grandad nodded as well, so he fixed three cheese-­and-­pickle toasties. They ate those while the tea was steeping. Gavin offered cream and sugar, which they both accepted.

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