Page 58 of Boss Witch

Danica stared, her eyes widening. “Oh my damn, thatismajor. I want to tease her, but—­”

“Don’t you dare,” Clem cut in. “She’s so tentative, even if she’s halfway thinking about having some fun with him—­which she deserves—­you might scare her away from the idea. She’ll start talking about how she’s too old for this and about setting a good example for Chris.”

“Yeah, I don’t want that. I swear you tell me these things to test my ability to keep a secret,” Danica muttered.

“Maybe I do. Anyway, I left the callbacks in the log, and all the drop-­offs are in back. I’ll see you at six thirty.”

“At least we don’t have to host this time,” Danica said, apparently trying to look on the bright side.

Clem waved on the way out. The bad feeling she’d been nursing fluttered within, somewhere between worry and dread. Her phone had been ominously silent, and all her instincts warned her that something was about to go catastrophically wrong.Maybe I’m on edge because Barnabas is in town. He always makes me cranky and goes out of his way to insult D-­Pop.Which was frankly like kicking a friendly puppy.

Clem headed home, vaguely keeping an eye out for Gavin, but she didn’t see any sign of him, and her phone was still quiet. Nevertheless, her nerves only got worse, not better, as she let herself in the house. She passed the time showering and taking special care with her makeup, thinking of it like battle armor to bolster her for whatever the night held.

A few hours later, she swung by the shop to pick Danica up, then they headed over to an upscale place that specialized in vegetarian fare. Gram ate lean meat and fish, but Allegra didn’t, and she preferred not to see it on people’s plates. Clem parked the car, and they headed inside.

The restaurant was called Heart of Artichoke, and it was decorated all in cream and silver with posh touches and flowers on the table. The understated elegance would appeal to Gram at least, and Allegra should be happy with the menu.

Danica reached for her hand, giving her a steadying squeeze. “Whatever this is about, we’re not putting up with any shit tonight, got me?”

Clem offered a fist bump. “Agreed. If Gram came to fight, we came to win.”

***

Gavin didn’t sleep a fucking wink all night.

In the morning, he didn’t eat and he barely drank. Already, he’d betrayed the order by not instantly reporting his discovery. But instead, he found himself frozen. Nobody he’d met in St. Claire was evil; he’d stake his life on it.

In prior jobs, he never spent this much time in a town. The witches had been unprepared, and he was a tracker. He located them and then turned them over. That was literally his purpose, and as soon as he had confirmation the enforcers were incoming, he moved on. The rest was handled by the enforcers, or so he’d heard; they severed witches from their magic so they could do no more harm. Darker stories were whispered, but it never went well when he asked about them.

His old man dismissed them with gruff outrage. “We’re bloody heroes, not monsters!”

Confusion ripened like autumn apples, darkening toward despair. Gavin raked his fingers through his hair and finally fired up the netbook, so small that it felt like a toy in his hands. There was still no response from his grandad, but he wrote another message out of desperation, outlining his circumstances fully and the choice he was currently facing.

If anyone will understand, it’s you. Tell me what to do, Grandad. I’m so fucking lost.

His head felt strange and overfull, and he had no memory of closing the laptop, but he found himself standing in front of Benson’s cage. Gavin opened the door and placed his palm in front. In time, the little white mouse scampered onto Gavin’s hand and perched there. Perhaps he’d been alone too much, but the mouse seemed to wear an expression of concern, eyeing Gavin with black button eyes.

“What should I do?” he whispered.

The mouse cocked his head then darted into Gavin’s shirt pocket, nestling in like he meant to stay. He lost the plot after that, and the next time everything snapped back into focus, he’d left the flat at some point and had wandered all the way downtown on foot. It was a significant hike in the summer heat, and sweat trickled down his spine. He felt faintly light-­headed, probably because he couldn’t remember the last time he ate. His feet had carried him toward the Fix-­It Witches repair shop.

Gavin laughed, the sound edged in sardonic bitterness. While his brain might be bewildered, his body had no doubts.

The name’s not ironic. It’s factual.

Now that he understood everything, he figured the Waterhouse cousins were technomancers and their quaint little shop served as a front for the magical repairs they performed. And that fact alone…it was so prosaic. The St. Claire witches were using their power to…repair microwaves and toaster ovens?

That hardly amounted to the vicious, wicked danger he’d heard about his entire life. But…if he stepped off the path, he’d be burning bridges with his father and the order. It would mean walking away from the only life he’d ever known.

For a while, he stared at the shop, and in the end, he didn’t go in. Gavin didn’t get out his mobile either. Still in a daze, he ambled to the café and paused before the counter.

“Did I even bring my wallet?” he muttered.

“If you didn’t, I’ve got you,” Howard said.

Gavin patted his pockets as he turned. “Good thing you’re here.”

He couldn’t manage a smile, and Howard tilted his head. “No need to look so offended. I’m aware you’ve come down on Leonard’s side in the Gladys Games, but I don’t have any hard feelings as long as you don’t actively sabotage me.”

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