Page 52 of Wicked Witch of the Wolf

“You realize that you don’t polish the cover of a book religiously unless you’re worshipping it. That ‘concoction’ he gave her was laced with his own blood. Let’s not tell Maya that part until she’s had some time to heal.”

Margaux continued saying nothing.

“I secured it in a null bag,” I said. “It shouldn’t be able to call out to its supplicant.” Of course, it had been out in the open all night, so that might not mean anything. I only said it because I’d been casting around for things to say since Margaux went silent.

“Look, I know it sucks to find out you’ve been used by Alpha Floyd, but we have to focus on tracking down Bronwyn right now.” And Ronan, though I wasn’t entirely certain he was missing, even if it did seem that way.

At the mention of Bronwyn, Margaux dropped her arms, letting her hands hang loosely in her lap. Her mouth softened, and there was the slightest shine to her eyes. Tears?

“Let’s go to Wicked first,” Margaux said. “If she’s hiding, she’ll be there.”

I put the car in reverse then drove out of the lot, scattering rocks. I really needed to re-gravel the lot. Or pave it. Basically, it needed work.

One day, I might have a few minutes where I wasn’t in danger—or trying to find someone in danger—to figure it out.

“Desmond would be a fool not to be watching you,” Margaux said. “I placed a protection spell over this car. It won’t stop us from crashing, but it should keep us from being killed by magical or mundane trauma.”

“Oh. That’s what you were doing.”

“It’s a complicated spell. It takes concentration. And you blathered to me all the way through it so it took longer.” She lifted her chin and stared out the passenger window.

“I thought you were throwing a fit because you found out your coven had been plotting against you for months.”

“Throwing a fit?” She said it like the words tasted bitter. “I don’t throw fits.”

“Well, it’s not like you said anything, either. Clue me in next time you’re casting, and I’ll leave you to it.”

She sniffed. Nodded. “Do you think Ronan Pallás is missing, too?”

I squeezed the steering wheel until my knuckles whitened. “I don’t know, but I’m worried.”

“Worry seems to be the theme of the day.” I felt her gaze on me for a long moment. “Let’s find Bronwyn and then we’lllook for Ronan. We’re going to need all the help we can get if we intend to take on the pack.”

We drove the rest of the way to Wicked in relative silence. KLXX played Ambrosia’s “Biggest Part of Me” followed by “When I Need You” by Leo Sayer, and finally, Carole King’s “It’s Too Late.” I shut it off when the opening strains of Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” started up.

“It’s odd how that radio station plays the most appropriate—or pointedly inappropriate in some cases—songs. It’s as if the DJ is uniquely attuned to the listener.” The witch waved her hand as if to diminish the seriousness of her claim. “That’s impossible, of course. The person would have to be empathetic, psychic, and omnipresent—a god.”

“Margaux, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of my car, and I haven’t driven us straight into an irrigation canal. Nothing is impossible.”

“You have a point. However, I still believe it’s highly unlikely that the local oldies station is being run by a god.”

I pulled into the lot behind Wicked and killed the engine. There was a stack of boxes outside the rear entrance. It seemed the wholemissing the morning deliverything was turning into an epidemic.

“That answers one question,” I said. “She’s not just ignoring her phone.”

“You thought she was?”

“Thought? No. Hoped? Yes,” I replied. “What now?”

“We go inside and take a look around.” Margaux dug a set of keys from her purse. “Bronwyn gave me these when I filled in for her one morning so she could visit the dentist. She told me to hold onto them in case she lost hers.”

“You didn’t demand to have a set for the coven?” I asked.

“No.” She wrinkled her nose. “That would be an unscrupulous use of power.”

I followed Margaux up to the back entrance. It was clear I had alot of preconceived ideas about the woman because I despised her. Used to despise her.

No, I still do, I just…

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