Page 36 of Captive Witch

“Can you do anything else?” Wren asks, bouncing with excitement. “Can you bite anyone to change them? Does it hurt? Who bit you? Oh, wait, I bet that was Gideon, wasn’t it?”

“Gods, Wren,” Jules sighs, shoving her shoulder.

“What? I just wanna know! You barely tell me anything except that Addy exists and has a familiar. Like, familiars are sorare, andshe’s a wolf! How freakin’ cool is that? I don’t even know anything about why your mom never comes here or your dad. Like, are you two even totally related? You look nothing alike. I—”

“Wren! Shut up,” Jules says, narrowing her eyes.

Wren huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine.”

“Gideon bit me,” I say, watching both their eyes fly to mine. “It did hurt, but only for a few minutes. It probably wouldn’t have hurt so bad if I hadn’t thought he was trying to kill me.” I give a half laugh, rubbing the spot where the half-moon of silver scars are tattooed on my shoulder. “And we are related.” I reach over and grab Jules’s hand. “I just look like our grandmother.”

“What—”

“No,” Jules says, putting a hand over Wren’s mouth. “No more questions, please, Hecate help me. My head is throbbing.”

Wren sighs, throwing herself back onto the couch cushions beside me. “I am pretty exhausted still. What is it, like two in the morning?” She covers her mouth as a yawn stretches her mouth wide.

“Sounds right,” Jules says, pulling some of the blanket over her lap.

I close my eyes, suddenly tired with Wren and Jules’s body warmth seeping into me, their heads resting on my shoulders. I miss sleeping beside Gideon and the way he smells, but this feels right. It feels comfortable… safe, even.

Chapter fourteen

Gideon

My phone vibrating on the nightstand pulls me from a restless sleep, and I groggily swipe it open. A smile tugs at my lips when I see Adara’s name flash on my screen.

I can’t wait to see you today!

I quickly type back a response, making sure she knows what time to be ready and telling her that I missed her more. Because I have. I always will.

Rolling onto my back, I stare up at the ceiling, wishing it were time to leave to pick her up already. Brent wasn’t able to find any information on the front desk witch, but so far, her visit has gone smoothly, from the sound of it. I’m grateful for having driven her, the three hour drive will allow her to gush over the visit and tell me everything that happened with that witch—if anything. Maybe Chloe will have more information on her too.

I place my phone back onto the table and grab the wooden rod from Anera’s desk, rubbing it between my fingers. Speaking of Chloe…

I’m in my car in less than ten minutes, making my way across town as I sip on a thermos of coffee. The small white house nestled into the forest comes into view, and I perk up at the sight of an extra sedan in the driveway. Chloe came early.

Knocking on the front door, I inhale the fresh morning dew and lean back against the porch railing. Steps approach the door, and it swings open to show Frank, his hair mussed and his bearda mess. Smirking, I hold up my thermos. “Looks like you need some coffee.”

He grumbles under his breath, turning to walk back into the house and leaving the front door open for me. I hold back my chuckle as I go inside, Mila and Chloe huddled on the couch with steaming mugs.

“Gideon,” Mila says, smiling. “Frank mentioned you might come back, but I didn’t think you’d be so early.”

Quirking a brow, I see Frank through the kitchen doorway, his back to me as he pours himself a mug of coffee.

“He mentioned the witch at the academy, but I’m afraid I don’t know any of the students there outside of Jules,” Chloe says, offering a small smile.

“Hmm,” I say, nodding, and pull out the wooden rod from my pocket. “What about this? I found it, and I need to know what it’s meant to lead me to.”

Chloe frowns, setting her cup on the coffee table and holding her hand out to me. She studies it after I hand it over, running her finger over the carvings. “I’ve never seen it before…”

“I didn’t think you had,” I say, moving to sit at the opposite end of the couch. “Could you try a tracing spell to find where it was created or where it’s been?”

She furrows her brow. “I could, but I don’t think it’ll give you anything worthwhile.”

“Oh?”

“There’s no trace of magic on this. It was carved by a knife or something sharp. It smells like… cigars?” She glances up at me before handing the piece of wood back. “There’s no magic to trace on it.”

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