Page 33 of Witch's Fate

The memory sent a shudder through her that she barely repressed.

No matter how angry she was with him for leaving her and how much she didn’t trust him now, she wanted him. Even if it was only for one night. Which was all it could be. He couldn’t keep an oath. He couldn’t be in any kind of real relationship.

He’d ensured that when he’d become a warlock.

She scowled at him and asked, “Is your plan to just approach the first person who walks in alone?”

He nodded.

“No. Too obvious. I’ll make them come to us.” She conjured a cigarette—magic that was small enough to not require her wand—then got up and headed to the door as if she were going to have a smoke. Kitty hopped off her seat and followed. “I’ll be right back.”

She wound her way through the tables and patrons, ignoring a few appreciative glances that were tossed her way. The door swung open easily and she stepped out into thefrigid air and lit the cigarette. She didn’t particularly like the thing, but if one was going to be hovering in doorways, it was good cover.

Once she’d determined that the coast was clear and she stood near enough to the door that people couldn’t see her through the pub’s windows, she drew her wand and ran it around the door frame. Satisfied, she stubbed out the cigarette and went back in, Kitty hot on her heels. She dropped the butt in the trash and found her seat next to Malcolm.

“What was that all about? You don’t smoke.”

“Know me so well, do you?”

“I once did.”

True enough. But she ignored it. “I charmed the door. The next individual to walk in alone will be attracted to me. They’ll come sit with us. Then you’ll ask the questions. It won’t look so strange.”

“No one would have noticed us approaching a loner. I’d have seen to it.”

She didn’t know how, probably with some sort of enchantment, but it wouldn’t be a problem for him. “My way is easier.”

“Perhaps.”

“You’re such a bastard sometimes, you know that? You steal my dagger, kidnap me, and are generally a jerk. Yet you throw yourself in front of lightning for me. What’s with that?”

He glanced at her, his expression closed, then back at the door. It opened and a man walked in. “He’s got potential.”

“No he doesn’t. Someone’s behind him. And you’re changing the subject.”

“Now’s not the time.”

She scowled. But he was right. She needed to keep her eye on the room. They were outsiders here. Though she’d heard of tourism even in Salem’s Hollow—Mytheans loved going places where there were no mortals—she didn’t know how well they blended. Tight-knit communities were always wary of outsiders.

“We need to have some kind of lighthearted conversation. So we look normal, not like vultures waiting for our prey.”

He huffed a laugh. “Fair visual. Fine. What are your hobbies?”

“Don’t have any.” No time.

“All right. I suppose you’re too busy taking care of Bruxa’s Eye.”

“Nailed it. Not that you’d know anything about that. Loyalty isn’t exactly your thing.” She kept her gaze focused on the crowd. If she looked at him, she was afraid he’d see how much that hurt her. The barb had sounded acidic, but it tasted bitter.

“I’d like it to be. With you.”

“Don’t exactly have that choice, now do you? You’re stuck. A warlock. Can you even—”

Her words stopped when a woman walked through the door. Young and pretty, with golden hair and a red dress, she was alone. Her gaze went straight to Sofia and she walked toward them, her stride intent.

“Women, too?” Malcolm asked.

“I’m not a homophobe.” Sofia smiled at the woman as she neared.

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