Page 40 of Soul of a Witch

Maybe it was better to behave. After all, she knew about Everly. Until I heard what she had to say, I at least had to attempt good behavior.

“Leaina,” I said. “My, my. I’ve really gotten Lucifer pissed, haven’t I?”

Her footsteps didn’t make a sound as she stepped out from behind the trees. She wore red, as usual, a beautifully stark color against her deep brown skin. Her tightly curled hair formed a halo around her face, which was professionally kept emotionless. She had a single silver ring pierced through the center of her lower lip, set with an onyx stone, and multiple jewels studded her ears.

The lip ring was Lucifer’s mark. He pierced every member of the council, an act of intimacy and loyalty, a form of welcoming them as one of his closest confidants.

“A pleasure to see you, Callum. As always.” Her voice was perfectly even, and I shook my head, clicking my tongue.

“Please drop the niceties. You’re not pleased to be here or to see me. I’m hardly a pleasure. No need to lie.”

She sighed, her wings stretching comfortably before she leaned against the tree behind her. Leaina: Lucifer’s right hand, his most called-upon member of the council. After I refused my offer, she rose to prominence with a single-minded determination to prove her loyalty.

“You’re right,” she said, producing a thick black envelope from somewhere on her person and holding it up. “I’m not pleased to be here, Callum. Again.”

“Ah, fuck.” I exhaled heavily. “You have a file.”

“Yourfile.” She opened the envelope and withdrew the sizeable stack of papers from within. “It seems to always be growing larger.”

“My apologies for not being more boring.”

“You were boring enough for the last few decades.” She withdrew a pen from her jacket and gave it several quick clicks. “But that’s changed quickly, hasn’t it? You fell off the radar for years and now you return with a bloody bang.”

She withdrew a sheet from the file and held it up. A missing person poster for Sam Hawthorne. I smiled, and she slipped it away again.

Her voice was sharp, clipped. “You’re responsible then?”

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know I was.”

She tapped her pen rapidly on the back of the file. “You know I still have to take the appropriate procedures.”

“Fine, fine. Go on then. Scold me.”

She glared, but she was the one who wanted to followprocedure. “Alright. Let’s review, since you’ve taken responsibility. You tortured and killed a human. He was not attempting to summon you nor were you currently bound to his service. The killing was not in defense of yourself nor in defense of another —”

“It was in defense of another.”

She glanced up in surprise. “Was it really? Was Mr. Hawthorne in the process of harming someone when you accosted him?”

I grit my teeth. My claws ached with the want tomakeher leave. But I couldn’t. “No.”

“Were you obligated to kill Mr. Hawthorne by the orders of a summoner who held power over you? Or were you obligated to do so by the terms of a soul bargain?”

“Don’t fucking insult me, Leaina.”

“I’ll damn well insult you if that’s what it takes,” she hissed. “You were seen clearly on security cameras, Callum. Wings, claws, all of it. You were recorded snatching him off the street, gouging his eyes out, andflying off with him.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Security cameras…huh. I hadn’t thought of that. That wasn’t really a worry when I’d locked myself up in House Laverne. “I’m sure you’ve already taken care of it?”

“Obviously. I’ve been running all over the place trying to ensure your mess doesn’t get out of hand.” Every tap of her pen was chipping away at my patience. “Let’s talk about the coven, Callum. Let’s talk about your witch.”

“Let’s not. Tell the council to close their eyes and look the other way. They’re good at doing that about any of their actual responsibilities. Can’t imagine why it’s so difficult to do it when it comes to me.”

“You knowverywell why. We’ve been lenient through the centuries. Letting you run all over Earth on your god-hunting crusade. We’ve looked away from far more than we should have. But this witch…” She flipped through several sheets of paper. When I saw Everly’s photo on the page she turned to, something vicious raised its head in me. “Everly Hadleigh, also known by her mother’s surname, Laverne. Twenty-three years old. The daughter of Kent Hadleigh and Heidi Laverne, a powerful witch in her own right as the daughter of Winona Laverne. Everly has quite the impressive pedigree.” She looked at me pointedly. “You haven’t claimed her soul yet.”

And there it was. “No. I haven’t.”

“But obviously you intend to.Hastily.”

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