Page 45 of A Witch-ish Guide to Protectors and Pendulums

“His name was Simeon. I could never forget him. He reminded me very much of you Simone. And his mate, a beautiful woman. Different name. A surname here.”

“Madigan?” Connor asked and he looked ready to puke doing it. His sister. Wow. His sister had a protected mate, too. Just like Connor. I knew this whole thing was connected somehow.

A feeling of dread swooped in fast almost overwhelming me. What were we about to get ourselves into next?

Whatever we were about to face, Ainsling sensed it as she nodded once solemnly. Immediately, I set my tea and cake down in order to move to Connor’s lap to best give him comfort. He held me close.

“Where did you send them?” I asked.

“Before I tell you, you must know, that like the protector mates Simeon and Madigan, you have an air of destiny about you. His, as yours, comes from a far-off place. One I cannot put a lock on. But I can give you a tea to talk with my most powerful ancestor long departed. She can guide you in a way I cannot.”

“No,” Connor said at the same time I said, “Yes, please.”

Another tea. I already wasn’t at my full strength yet. But if this was my only option, then I had to take it.

“Connor, baby—I have to. You know I do.”

“You haven’t recovered from Agatha’s tea yet.”

“I get that, but it’s the only way. I’m agreeing with Ainsling and you have to let her do her magic.”

He kissed me, pressing his forehead to mine, and hugged me tight. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered. “I can’t let you be hurt.”

“I won’t be hurt. Just drained.”

“You don’t know that.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to make a dog joke, but I held back. The situation simply didn’t abide any levity.

Finally, he gave in, sighing. “Yeah, okay.”

He gave his permission even though we’d both known I wasn’t asking for it. I simply wanted him to be okay with the decision I’d come to. Ainsling stood up and hightailed it to herkitchen, my guess in case he changed his mind. But I wasn’t planning on changingmymind.

While she was gone, Connor took my hand, squeezing it gently while placing our linked fingers on my knee. Dare I say, lovingly? “Please. I don’t want you drinking that tea. I can’t protect you while you’re under.”

I pressed my head to his neck to snuggle in further. “Think about it, babe. Really think about it. We have people trying to kill us. Your sister and her mate, a mate I’ll add she never even told you about, showed up here then went missing?”

“I know.” He huffed out a breath. “But I can’t lose you. We’re tied together, Simone. It hurts, but I can live without my sister. I can’t live without you. As fucked-up as this is, I wouldn’t want to.”

“Wow, Connor Baghest, I think youdolike me.”

He kissed me. One of those power-packed,giving you everything he was feeling without saying a wordkind of kisses.

Way too soon, we heard a throat clear and he pulled out of the kiss. I was simultaneously ready to meet this ancient ancestor and ready to punch Ainsling for interrupting such a monumental moment.

“Can I ask you to sit over in this chair?” Ainsling pointed to a ratty, old, well-worn, well-loved brown leather chair similar to Agatha’s but not a recliner. This had an equally ratty, old, well-worn, well-loved ottoman moved in front of it for me to prop my feet up on.

Giving Connor’s hand one more squeeze, I moved from his lap to the chair. The soft cushions enveloped me as I sank down into them and I set about getting comfortable by propping my feet up on the ottoman while I waited for Ainsling to pour the hot brew.

“You must drink it all down,” she said while handing me off the cup.

I nodded, blowing on it to cool down the surface, and whispered, “Bottoms up,” before gulping it down. Two gulps and I’d emptied the cup. My mouth tasted heavily of licorice, which I was sure she’d added to aid the flavor, which otherwise tasted heavily of rosemary, mugwort, and passionflower. There were other herbs in the brew; those just came out the strongest.

It only took a second for me to begin feeling the power coursing through me. I closed my eyes, though I didn’t have to because the tea lulled them closed to allow me to travel. I left my body, flipping back through history until reaching the correct moment in time. A beautiful woman of maybe forty waved me in exactly like those men with the orange vests and flares on an airport tarmac did for the jets.

And when I landed, she smiled, speaking to me in a tongue I didn’t know yet fully understood again. Magic was trippy.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Simone Lamia. I am Sirona.”

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