Page 48 of Reckless Witch

“Why allow Zadkeil to be a part of an Illumina investigation?”

“It’s not the first time the Illumina has worked with angels,” Ethan says.

I grunt. “Then the Illumina hasn’t learned its lesson. Angels can’t be trusted.”

“They have a vested interest in keeping the Hell Gates sealed,” Ethan says.

Hell Gates?

“None of this is your concern,” Raith says.

I hit the brakes and veer off onto the shoulder, then shove the car into park and face him. “She was my grandmother.”

“Your duty—”

“My duty? Don’t you fucking lecture me about duty,” I snap.

Raith’s brows shoot up.

“My duty is to my family. Everything else is secondary.” It’s bullshit. I have no family—blood family, that is. But I’m not letting them in on that juicy secret.

No one answers.

“Grams was no black witch. She would never summon Shadows.”

Ariel’s words blare in memory, “You know where they got those Shadows Miss Mack showed in class, don’t you?”

“We all know,” Thomas had said. “They came from Crowe Potionary.”

“You can’t say she summoned Shadows,” I say with a jab of my finger in Raith’s chest, but their silence tells me they can and do.

I put the car in drive and pull off the shoulder. “Is it true that the Shadow husks Miss Mack showed us are from Grams’ house?”

“Yes,” Blade says without hesitation.

The words are laced with kindness and I detect no deceit. Oh God, I might embarrass myself and cry. “Who told you that?” I whisper.

“Leilah…” he begins.

“No,” I cut in. “Answer the question.”

A moment of silence passes, then he says, “The Illumina watched her for a year.”

“A year?” I blurt. My heart pounds.

“The Watchmen detected dark magic,” he said. “It wasn’t consistent. They weren’t a hundred percent certain. Then came an explosion in the basement. They immediately detected dark magic and…Shadows. They investigated and found a hole in the floor.”

“Her body?” I whisper.

I discern the shake of his head in the mirror.

“Who the hell is buried in that grave at Westwood?”

“No one,” Raith says.

I grip the wheel tighter and force myself not to slam my foot down on the accelerator. “So, you don’t really know what happened.”

Another heartbeat of silence passes and I know I’m wrong—again.