Page 68 of For Dear Life

They’re just one of the families who blended into human society and kept away from conflict.

But—interestingly—the owners recently returned from overseas, where the elderly couple had swapped the perpetual rain and gloom of England to a life in the agonizingly sunny and warm Mediterranean.

Overseas. A link to the suspects?

Naturally, my decision to visit the premises led to arguments and attempts by Leif and Rowan to dissuade me. Ridiculous. This is the biggest lead yet and although we communicated our findings to Dorian, time is running short. The witches already covered up Rory’s situation. They know I’ve seen them, and we’ve no idea how they might use Oz next. Or how soon.

Where is Rory? Disposed of?

If these renovations are a massive and unlikely coincidence, then best I discover now—by visiting. This time, Rowan comes with me and not Leif—he wants to keep away from shifters and I’ll definitely need Rowan’s magic help. The fake reason we’re using to gain entry to the premises is flimsy, hence we’ll use magic to wipe memories of the visit.

Rowan passes through the gate and along the pathway to a white wooden porch, the entrance marked by a heavy, door painted a bold green to match the gate. A large brass bell with a chain serves as a doorbell, which rings loud enough for half the street to hear.

The door opens and the moment the older woman’s eyes land on me, I speak. “Hello, I’d like to ask you some questions.”

I frown as Rowan shoves me to one side. The elderly witch peers at me through silver-rimmed spectacles, and her creased face becomes more crepe-like as she does. She’s wearing brown slacks, and a knitted, lilac cardigan that sets off the purple tinge to her white hair.

“Pardon? My hearing isn’t particularly good.”

I clear my throat and raise my voice. “I’d—”

“We’re from the academy and would like to interview you,” butts in Rowan.

“About your fam—”

“For a history assignment.”

“Will you stop interrupting me?” I grumble.

“History?” asks the woman.

“We wondered if you have any old photos or drawings of the estate as it once was,” explains Rowan. “We’ve an assignment to study all the original witch estates in the area.”

“Are you looking for work? You’re not suitable,” she says loudly to Rowan. “We need lads with muscle.”

How rude. “Rowan has a keen mind even if he is physically inferior to some other males,” I say and offer him a smile that he most certainly doesn’t return.

“Wow,” he mutters. “Thanks, Violet.”

“Pardon?” asks the witch.

Oh, joy. Did she hear Rowan’s earlier question? “Can you show us some photographs?” I ask loudly.

“I’m sorry, there’s too much noise out here. Come inside.”

Noise? Is she imagining things?

I take a step forward as the woman turns.

Rowan catches my sleeve. “Let me do the talking.”

“Why?”

“Really? You need to ask me that?”

I swallow a retort. Persuading Rowan to join me took more effort than usual. He can’t leave. “Then ensure you ask the correct questions and in a timely manner.”

“Then promise not to speak to anybody unless absolutely necessary,” he retorts. Our eyes meet in a familiar stalemate. “Don’t growl at me, Violet.”

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