Page 7 of Demon's Bane

“We believe you can get us in touch with someone who has knowledge of the trade happening between realms,” Esme says matter-of-factly. “Someone who’s done her own share of traveling through the Veil.”

“Who?”

“She goes by Seren,” I cut in, and ignore the look Esme casts my way. “Another Crescent witch.”

Joan’s guarded expression shifts from a moment of stunned disbelief to something that almost resembles… amusement.

“Not a Crescent witch,” she says with a slowly spreading, flint-edged smile. “At least not anymore.”

I frown deeply, turning an accusing stare on Esme. “She is not a Crescent witch?”

More lies, then. More assurances meant to lure me here, to give me a false sense of the coven’s goodwill and willingness to help.

“Not since she was, what, seventeen?” Joan arches a brow at Esme. “When she took all that fancy training she got from the coven leaders and got the hell out of dodge.”

My little mate has some sharp edges to her. A set of claws she unsheathes to land a subtle blow that darkens the High Priestess’s expression.

Esme clears her throat. “All of that is in the past. Despite the fact that Seren is no longer with the coven, we still need to speak to her. With the knowledge she possesses, she may know more about who’s truly behind these thefts. So it’s imperative we find her.”

“Good luck with that,” Joan says, rolling her eyes.

“We don’t need luck. We’ll have your help.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything.”

“No, you haven’t. But like I said before Rhett arrived, you know what the consequences of refusing would be.”

A barely contained growl climbs up my throat at the threat in Esme’s words.

Though I’m still not entirely convinced whatever’s going on here isn’t just for show, I’ll be damned if my mating instincts can sort out lies from the truth.

No, the only thing that base, instinctual part of me sees is the flash of uncertainty in Joan’s eyes, all it hears is a threat made against her, and all it knows is the need to do, act, protect. To shield her until the threat is dissipated and she’s safe.

Joan’s lips press into a thin line, and she stares Esme down for a few long moments before she speaks again. “And all of this is for what? To clear the coven’s name?”

“That is none of your—”

“And because I’d imagine the coven would be quite put out if they lost access to the crystals they’ve been trading for with the demon realm,” I say before Esme can finish. “The ones they value so much they’ve seen fit to simply start taking them. We refuse to restart trade with anyone from this realm until the culprits are punished.”

For the first time since we entered the shop, I have my mate’s full attention.

Joan’s deep brown eyes fix on me, her head tilting to one side as she studies me and considers what I’ve just said.

Another sharp pulse of realization crashes over me as I belatedly remember I’m still wearing a glamour.

It shouldn’t bother me as much as it does.

When Esme gave me the obsidian ring and instructed me to wear it for this meeting, I’d hardly cared enough to quibble over the artistry of the disguise she created. It was serviceable, looked vaguely like me—minus the wings, tail, horns, a bit of my naturalheight and bulk—and would ensure I wouldn’t draw any undue notice in this realm.

Now, however, it chafes and itches against every inch of me. The phantom press of wings and the shifting of an invisible tail make me ache to rip it off, cast it aside, and let my mate get a true look at me.

Would she like what she sees?

“So… what?” Joan’s gaze slips from me to Esme. “You want to prove the coven has nothing to do with these thefts and keep your damn crystals.” She swivels back to face me. “Andyouwant justice for what’s been stolen. And you both think Seren has the answers that might help you achieve those goals?”

I nod, and Esme does the same.

Joan settles back into her seat. “And what about me? What do I get?”

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