Page 63 of Extra Witchy

Some of her reluctance faded. While it might be mercenary, the mortgage on her condo wouldn’t pay itself. “There’s the silver lining. Wait, I guess I do have one more question.”

“What’s that?” the other witch asked.

“How long is the term?”

“Four years.”

Leanne blinked. “Longer than expected.”

“You’ll receive official notification through council channels. I don’t think I need to tell you that secrecy is mandatory. You cannot share this nomination with your coven sisters, other witches, or your family.”

Though she’d been in Vegas when Gladys intervened regarding the witch hunter issue on behalf of the council, Margie had filled her in quietly. “I understand. And I’m not sure if I should say thanks or—”

Just then, something clattered to the ground, a plastic plate spilling pizza onto the chilly cement. Trev stood there holding Leanne’s jacket in his other hand, and from his look of abject shock, he’d heard a lot, way more than he should have. Gladys fixed him with a terrible stare, and Leanne’s foreboding ripened into full-blown fear. He wasn’t wearing a coat either, but he’d brought hers. He clutched it like a lifeline. Why did he have to be so freaking sweet, choosing to search for her at the worst possible time?

Oh hell.

“No,” she said, stepping between them. “You can’t. Technically speaking, nobody told him. And he didn’t hear anything.Please, Gladys. Don’t do this.”

***

This…has to be a hallucination, right?

Since it was impossible to throw a rocking party without snacks, Trev had ordered a bunch of pizzas, and they’d just been delivered. He got some food into all the hearty partiers, then he noticed Leanne was MIA. Her coat was still hanging on the rack, so he figured she must’ve stepped out to catch her breath and process the good news in private.

But he found her discussing shit that didn’t make sense—couldn’tmake sense—at least not according to the world he lived in. They’d definitely been talking about some kind of secret council, but judging from Leanne’s expression, he’d better act innocent and do it more expertly than any role he’d ever played. He’d weigh what he’d heard later. Right now, this appeared to be about survival. If anyone had asked him before tonight, he never would’ve imagined that Gladys—sweet little Gladys—could look this terrifying.

Trev pinned on a blurry, harmless smile. “Whoa, I am not a good drinker. I tried to bring you a slice, but I went and turfed it. Sorry, Butterfly. You must be freezing, though. Put this on. I’ll let you finish your chat.”

“It’s fine,” Gladys said, scrutinizing him from head to toe.

It took every ounce of determination not to flinch or back away from that inspection and to keep pretending to be cool-and-casual Trev. “Let’s all get back in, then? The party needs its guest of honor. Pretty sure it’s written in the big book of winning.”

Leanne came over to him and slipped her arms into the sleeves of the jacket he was holding. “Thanks, sweetheart. Pity about the pizza, but the birds will be happy.”

As Gladys moved past him, he got a chill that wouldn’t quit, and Trev was still shivering when Leanne urged him inside. The back hallway was dark and quiet, with only distant noise from the party upstairs. The old woman slowly made her way up the steps, leaving them in the yellow flicker of the fluorescent light. He had no idea what to say as Leanne stepped closer.

“You don’t understand,” she whispered. “And I can’t explain. Right now, you’re doing the one thing you can, the one thing that might save us both. Please,pleasecarry on.”

The urgency in her low tone genuinely alarmed him. Trev drew in a breath and took a step, only to stumble. Leanne grabbed his arm, regarding him with a worried expression.

“Uh, right. Low blood sugar. I should get some food. Let’s rejoin the festivities.”

At the party, he did his best to act like he didn’t notice Gladys watching him like a hawk that was about to swoop down on a mouse. He argued with Leonard about the music, danced with Hazel Jeffords, and pretended for all he was worth. The celebration ran late, and Howard made a killing by choosing not to drink since he ended up accepting a ton of gigs driving people home through the rideshare app. Finally, the office emptied out, leaving him to tidy up while Leanne walked the stragglers out. Gladys was gone, finally, but he didn’t feel safe exactly. The old woman’s scrutiny left him feeling like she could still be watching or listening, which was weird as hell and a bit paranoid too.

“Are you ready to go home?” his wife asked, pausing in the doorway.

A hundred words hovered at the tip of his tongue, questions that demanded logical answers. Only he couldn’t even come up with a single theory that made sense. Role-play, cosplay, secret society? None of his half-baked ideas added up, and unease gnawed at him. Yet he still took the keys she handed him.

“You noticed that I didn’t drink?” he asked.

“I’m always paying attention to you,” she said with the smile that normally cut right through him.

Tonight, he wondered what her pretty smile might be concealing. Trev walked to the car silently. Never had he been more aware how little he knew about his wife. Leanne wasn’t a St. Claire local, she didn’t get along with her mother, and she belonged to a book club. That…was pretty much it. He had no clue where she’d gone to school or even where she’d lived before St. Claire. Their normal conversations didn’t extend to asking deeply personal questions; she seemed to prefer it that way.

In the dark, driving back to the condo, he stole glances at her profile. She gazed out into the darkness like it held the answer to a riddle she’d been trying to solve for a while.Poetic, right?More likely that she was just avoiding him. When people said they couldn’t explain, it usually meant they didn’t want to. On the other hand, he truly didn’t think Leanne was faking the intensity of her plea to Gladys. Who hadn’t seemed like a powerful person until her whole demeanor changed in a blink.

How’s that even possible?

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