Page 30 of Witchwolf

“He didn’t know.”

She held up her hands. “I know. I know. But... shit. That could’ve gonebad.”

I swallowed hard. Didn’t want to think about it. “It didn’t.”

She heaved another sigh. “No... it didn’t go bad. What are you going to do now though?”

“His magic’s going crazy. I said I’d help him. But I don’t know what the fuck I can do for a mage. I just know—” I waved at my desk, my laptop, my oh-so-imposing office chair—all the trappings of having my shit together.

It was all crap.

“What about Prudence?” she said.

I paused. “Do you think she would help him? She’s not big on other mages...”

Jillian shrugged. “You could ask if she has any insight. Maybe she’d be willing to come by the office and give him some advice. It doesn’t sound like he has anyone else, and she of all people would understand that.”

I shook my head. “He said he was adopted. Normal human parents.”

Prudence was one of the first mages who’d agreed to work with us. She was selling copies of grimoires, reproduced from her impressive library and much in demand. The mage families were a lot more willing to deal with us when we had her books on our homepage.

Not that that had impressed her any. Prue seemed generally displeased with everyone, but liked us better than she liked her magical peers.

“It’s worth a shot,” I admitted.

Jillian held her hand out at my desk in silent order to make the damn call. I got up, and my heart was only racing a little when I dialed Prudence’s number.

She answered on the second ring. “What?”

My lips twitched. I’d liked her abruptness. It seemed so real compared to how other mages carried themselves.

“Hey there, Prudence. I was wondering if you’re in town right now. I’ve, um...” I glanced over at Jill, and she nodded me on. “I’ve got a new employee. Freshly Awakened mage. He’s new to the whole thing, and his magic’s getting the better of him. Do you think you could maybe come, I don’t know, check him out?”

“You want me to make sure he’s not going to blow up the building?”

I grimaced. “Or give him some pointers.”

She sniffed on the other end. “What’s his name?”

“Dakota Morris.”

“Don’t know any Morrises,” she grumbled. “Who’s his guardian?”

That gave me pause, but there was nothing for it but to tell the truth. “I—I don’t think he has one.”

She was silent a moment, but when she spoke again, her tone was filled with interest. “Well, all right then. I’ll come by tomorrow.”

I grinned, and Jillian high-fived the air. “That’s great, Prudence. Really. I’ll treat you to lunch. Thank you so much.”

She hummed. “Tomorrow then.”

And the other side of the line went quiet.

13

Dakota

It was my imagination, I kept telling myself. All my coworkers weren’t staring at me as I arrived the next morning.

---