Page 80 of A Fury Of Shadows

Bryony sniffed. “I don’t need cheering up. I’m not a child.”

“There, there.” Abraham guided her out of her chair and into the coven meeting chambers. “I’ll make us some drinks.”

The doors at the far end banged open.

Regina barged in, her jackrabbit Daws hopping beside her. “Howdy, Bry-bry!” She beamed at Bryony. “We came by to see if you wanted to go for lunch.”

Bryony pointed an accusing finger at the Vegas coven High Priestess and glared at Abraham. “You said they would cheer me up!”

Erik and Anya trailed in tiredly behind Regina, like casualties in the passage of a storm.

“You need cheering up, Bry?” Regina dropped down on a couch and patted the spot next to her. “What’s got you blue? Come, tell your big sis.”

“I’m two years older than you,” Bryony said between clenched teeth.

“You are?” Regina looked shocked at that. “Sorry, I keep forgetting.” Her tone turned sympathetic. “Even though you have so many more wrinkles than me.”

Bryony’s eye twitched. Abraham swallowed a snort. Erik groaned.

Anya perched primly on the edge of a chair with Sable and pretended to examine a painting.

“You know what you need?” Regina ignored Bryony’s dark look and leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “A young lover!”

Anya’s eyes bulged. Abraham dropped a cup.

Regina started making hand motions. “Someone with a long, thick—mmmph!”

Erik had clamped a hand over his mother’s mouth.

“Stop talking, I’m begging you!” the sorcerer pleaded.

His Rottweiler Ross huffed worriedly.

Abraham picked up the cup and cleared his throat loudly. “How about we change the subject?” He brought over a tray of coffee and tea and addressed Anya. “Have you heard from Cortes?”

Anya’s face tightened. She avoided their gazes.

“They had a spat,” Regina said at Abraham and Bryony’s puzzled looks.

“He never told her what he did for a living,” Erik explained diplomatically.

Sable made an annoyed sound.

Bryony sighed and offered the younger witch a tea. “Enrique is not a bad man. He’s just a victim of his circumstances. He would never have entered a life of crime had it not been for his aunt.”

“Still.” Anya’s fingers clenched on the cup. “He kills people for a living,” she finished miserably.

“I can’t deny he has blood on his hands,” Bryony said quietly. “And neither would Enrique. But he’s not just a cold-blooded killer. Did you know he donates money to orphanages and charities in Medellin?”

Anya’s eyes widened. “I didn’t.”

“TheBacatá Cartelhas a vicious reputation for sure, but they also give a lot back to the community. And they keep the more nefarious gangs on a leash, hence why their primary goal is to put the fear of God in everyone. I suspect many of the stories surrounding them are made up. It’s the same with theBlack Devils. And even though the authorities would never say so publicly, syndicates like the ones Cortes and Vlad belong to make crime manageable in our society.”

Anya swallowed. “Thank you. I…never thought of it that way.”

Sable crooned and rubbed her head against her witch’s hair.

Bryony froze. Her scalp was prickling with a forewarning born of years of experience. Regina stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she swept the chamber with her gaze.

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