Page 58 of His Whispered Witch

“What’s in it? And, um, what is it?”

“It’s a record of spells for a Circle of thirteen witches to accomplish together.”

“You stole their spellbook?” he asked, impressed.

She shook her head. “Not theirs. They stole another coven’s. It’s super old. And it, um, has a spell to make werewolves.”

“Right.” A voice chattered in the back of his head that if someone had the recipe to make werewolves, they could also unmake werewolves, but he trusted her.

She was his. Of course, he trusted her.

She flipped through the pages.

He had to trust her.

“You said that there are really witches in your pack who can join together,” she said, her eyes on the page.

“Yes.”

“You’ve seen it happen.”

“No.”

She sagged backward. “But you know it did.”

“Yes. Once.” He put a hand around the paperclip.

“Once!”

“They might have done it again.” He had no idea how often they gathered.

“But you’ve only heard of it once.”

“There’s not really a call for it.”

“Right, because your aunt just put up the wards herself. That is crazy.”

He realized all over again that growing up with a witch in a wolf pack was weirder than he’d thought. He’d never questioned the power she had access to with her mate, but every other witch on earth acted like she could move the sun.

“It’s hilarious to me,” she said when she’d flipped through a few more pages, “that the thing they want most in the world is completely and freely available to them right now if only they let go of the thing they hate most in the world.”

“Who?”

“The twins. The ones who just attacked us.”

He reached for her, and the lizard eyed him like Asher was stealing the love of its life. Which, fair.

“What exactly do the, uh, twins want?” he asked as he dropped his hands.

“They want to join magic with witches who aren’t related to them. They’re not the only ones. Covens are slowly dying all over the country, unable to field thirteen witches. I mean not to knock how great it is to chat with animals, but come on. The only really powerful stuff can be done together. And you guys just solved it. With wolves.”

“The same wolves that they will kill and drive out of their territory at the drop of a hat.” He huffed out to laugh. Yes, that was pretty much the definition of ironic. “Do you want to try and talk to them? Show them?”

Penn sat back with a whoosh and shook her head.

“They came after me with a crossbow. That problem is theirs to walk. They’re not my family.”

“We could talk to your family.”

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