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Egan couldn’t care less.
“Spread out and start looking for the amulet,” he orders, pushing past me and into the house.
The other wolves follow their alpha inside, sweeping me along with them as we pile into the narrow hallway. From there, everyone branches off into different sections of what was once my home.
When it’s just Egan and me left, Egan turns toward the door. “Sarah, you’re with me and Miss Dumont.”
A slight woman with pin-straight black hair steps into the foyer behind me. Her gaze is solidly focused on the foyer floor, but the curtain of hair hiding her face does nothing to conceal the nasty-looking bruise surrounding her right eye.
Another witch?
If the thick band around my neck wasn’t tamping down my magic, I could tell for sure.
The two of us follow the alpha further inside. Walter stays close behind me, ensuring I don’t turn and make a run for it. He stands sentinel in the doorway of the dining room while Egan pulls out a chair from the table and sits like this is his home instead of mine.
“Don’t look at me like a lost puppy. Do what I brought you here to do.”
Sarah and I turn toward each other, and she meets my gaze for a moment before fixating on the floor again.
Living with the wolves has broken her will. Egan has stomped out every ounce of light and hope within this witch until she remains nothing but a shell—a puppet for the alpha to use as he pleases.
Anger flares through me—for Sarah. For me. For all the Tremé witches, whose lives were irrevocably changed by their war twenty-five years ago.
Sarah holds her hand out to me, palm up. When she does, the sleeve of her blouse slides up and reveals more bruises on her arm, all of them in different stages of healing.
It must be hard being the personal witch of a werewolf alpha. Especially if they’re all as volatile as Egan.
I don’t envy this Moon Witch.
I could have just as easily been in Sarah’s position. Somehow I doubt the vampires treat the Sun Witches any better. And suddenly, I’m very glad my grandmother took me as far away from here as she could get.
I understand now—why she chose to spend her afterlife in the UK, never at rest—because the alternative was for me to come here and maybe be captured and claimed by a monster.
Not going to happen.
As soon as I figure out how to get this collar off and regain access to my magic, I’m gone.
I place my hand in Sarah’s offered one, keeping one eye on Egan. I don’t want her to get hurt because of me. I don’t know how I’m going to manage it, but I’ll get both of us out of here.
I won’t leave her to suffer under Egan’s thumb.
The first tendril of Sarah’s magic startles me as it worms through me, and she squeezes my hand gently as if in apology but doesn’t stop the invasion. It reaches inside of me, brushing against where my magic is locked down tight.
It is both invasive and comforting.
Her magic feels so similar to mine… almost like when I connected to the other Sun Witches during the last rites ritual.
The warm and fuzzies don’t last long.
The tingle of magic jumps through my body in a few fluttering waves before it fades away, and then ends all at once when Sarah pulls her hands from mine.
It leaves me feeling empty once again.
“I’m sorry. It’s no use,” the Moon Witch says, her gaze on the rug as she addresses Egan. “I can’t pinpoint it.”
The legs of Egan’s chair scrape against the hardwood floor as he pushes to his feet. He stalks forward, his gaze narrowed. “I can smell when you lie to me.”
Her eyes flick up for a split second before fixating on the carpet again. “I’m telling the truth. I swear. Whatever spell Celine Dumont cast to hide the amulet is strong. It’s like trying to decipher an encryption in an entirely unfamiliar language.”
