Page 71 of Enchanted Warrior

The Chief Elder had arrived at Tamsin’s door just hours after they’d arrived home. When Tamsin had opened the door, Waller’s first words had been something about Tamsin’s lack of good judgment and obedience. Word had reached him about the fight at the Henderson house.

That was before he’d noticed Hector in the room.

Now Waller was dangling from Hector’s grip. He waved his hands as if to weave a spell, but then gave up and started clawing at the iron fist pinning him by the throat. The knight might have been barefoot and wearing Gawain’s too-tall clothes, but he was clearly in control.

Tamsin viewed her erstwhile tormentor dangling against the wall. She couldn’t summon much sympathy.

Waller gurgled, his lips turning blue.

Hector released his grip a fraction. “Talk.”

“Whatever you want, it’s yours. Money. A better house. You can have your old job back,” Waller said between gasps. “I can make that happen.”

Hector made an incredulous noise. “Employment is the least of my concerns, you lickspittle weasel. Besides, my daughter seems to be doing just fine in her position. Unlike you.

“What do you want?” Waller cried, but his eyes shifted, as if seeking a weapon.

Tamsin shifted closer, readying a spell just in case. Waller wasn’t known as an expert in fighting magic, but she didn’t trust him one bit.

Hector tapped the tip of Waller’s nose with his free hand. “I haven’t been home long, but I’ve made a few calls to some old friends from the other covens. They were very interested to hear that you were aligning yourself with LaFaye’s interests. They don’t approve. They think Shadowring’s council deserves a housecleaning.”

“Then they’re fools,” Waller shot back. “The witches are too weak to battle the fae. Too much was lost after Merlin gave us a black name.”

“Ah, yes, it’s Merlin’s fault you’re such a coward,” Hector mused. “A dead sorcerer is so easy to blame. Tell me, has LaFaye promised you a special treat if you deliver the covens to her control?”

At that, Waller began a frantic struggle. Hector put a hand on the man’s chest. “Stop, unless you want me to crush you like the spider you are.”

Tamsin felt power building in the room and knew the Elder was summoning his magic. She moved in quickly, calling a fireball to her hand. A small one—she had her damage deposit to think of.

“He said stop!” She held up the coruscating ball of blue fire. “I’ve fought zombies. Fast ones. You don’t want to mess with me.”

“Don’t give yourself airs, girl,” he sneered, proving exactly how stupid he was.

Tamsin held the ball close enough for Waller to feel the heat. “Just try it.”

Waller stilled as quickly as if someone had flipped a switch. Fear glazed his eyes, but so did a vicious anger. He deliberately turned his attention to Hector. “What do you mean to do with me?”

“The Court of Covens has questions for you,” her father said, serious now. “They’ve had an eye on you for some time. They knew you were coming this way and asked me to escort you to them once you arrived. Some fae friends of ours set up a portal to take you there.”

The look on Waller’s face was too delicious to waste. Tamsin kept the ball of fire in one hand while she fished in her pocket with the other. She pulled out her smartphone and snapped a photo of the two men. Hector raised his eyebrows in question.

Tamsin texted the picture before she hit speed dial and put the phone to her ear. “Stacy would never believe any of this without evidence. Want to say hi before you go, Mr. Waller? Something tells me our paths may never cross again.”

ChapterTwenty-Eight

An hour later Tamsin was alone. Hector had left through the portal with his prisoner, and her call to Stacy was done. Tamsin sank onto the edge of her bed, exhausted. Someone—perhaps one of the rebel fae who had come for Angmar—had made the bed with fresh sheets and washed the dishes. It was a polite gesture, but it made Tamsin feel forlorn. It reminded her that her home had been alive, filled with people, and now every last one was gone. Solitude pressed in with almost physical force.

Tamsin closed her eyes. Stacy had been ecstatic, shocked and outraged in turn by Tamsin’s story. There would be a real Thanksgiving dinner now that their father had returned. It was something to look forward to—and Tamsin did. Really.

Except she wasn’t sure she could resume the old patterns of her life again. She’d glimpsed another world filled with danger, one where the history she’d studied had come to life. One where her talents weren’t merely important, but critical to success. For a while, she’d mattered.

Until she hadn’t. She’d given Gawain what he’d asked for, and then he’d asked her to go.

In a fit of temper, Tamsin hurled a pillow at the wall. It bounced harmlessly away, making just about as much impact as Tamsin apparently had on Gawain’s heart. Tears hovered behind her eyes, but she refused to cry anymore. She was tougher than that.

A knock came at the door. She rose to answer it, but instinct made her hesitate. She sensed something—danger passing by like shadow over moonlight. Silently, Tamsin approached the door on tiptoe. She’d had her share of battle experience in the past few days, but she still played it safe and checked the peephole. No one was there.

Readying another fireball, Tamsin opened the door and looked into the corridor. It was empty. Irritated now, she stepped into the hallway to find a large blue sticky note on the outside of her door. The bottom was folded up to hide the writing. Tamsin reached up, then stood there with her hand poised, wondering if she was going to like what it said.

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