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“But what do you guess?” Levian pressed.
The witch glared at the mage. “I’ve done what I can,” she replied sharply, as if she were just as frustrated as the mage by her lack of answers.
“What did the black mean?” Gwen asked. She was sure that, at least, had to be bad.
“Your past and future are obscured from view,” Abigail told her. “As if shrouded in shadow.” It was a little more obvious than Gwen was expecting.
“You’re sure there’s nothing else?” Levian probed with clear disappointment.
“If you’re so desperate for answers, you know whom else to ask,” Abigail snapped.
Levian scowled.
Gwen looked between the two of them. “Who?”
“No one,” the mage clipped.
Abigail huffed a judgmental grunt. “You’ve still not worked up the courage to see him, I take it?” Levian’s eyes flared with magick, and the air sizzled.
The witch ignored her and turned to Gwen. “Bridgette kept your identity hidden from the witches in New York,” she told her. “I was curious as to why. It was such juicy gossip—the zephyrs descending on some innocent in the dead of night, an innocent whisked away by an alleged dragon. It all sounded rather romantic.”
Gwen swallowed a lump of air. “It wasn’t,” she grumbled. It had been far from romantic.
The witch looked at her sideways. “Sirus was there too, I presume?”
She didn’t like the prying look in Abigail’s eyes or the insinuation in her tone. “It was a night,” Gwen muttered, not wanting to discuss it. At least, not with her.
Abigail chuckled. “I’ve no doubt of that, though I must say I’m a touch jealous.” Gwen’s stomach knotted. If she said something lewd about Sirus, she was going to— “I’ve not had anything remotely as exciting happen to me in ages.”
The tension in her stomach gave way a little, but not much. “We can trade places if you want,” Gwen offered.
The witch smirked. “Don’t offer such things unless you wish to make them true,” she replied with a wink.
Gwen scowled. She wanted to get out of here, and she nearly told Levian exactly that, but Abigail spoke first. “Nestra is up to something unpleasant.” The witch pivoted, turning her attention back to the mage.
“Who?” Gwen asked, confused.
“The zephyr High Priestess,” Levian explained. “What have you heard?”
Right. The woman who’d started all this mess. Gwen had never hated a stranger so much in her life.
Abigail tapped the table twice, and all the empty vials stacked together in several neat little rows. “She’s been hunting down magickal artifacts for years. In secret, of course. I’d assumed she was just an eccentric collector, but now I’m not sure. The High Covens are inquiring after the scene in New York, but you know how it is getting the zephyrs to cooperate.”
“You think she’s collecting magickal artifacts for a specific purpose?” Levian pressed further.
The witch let out a deep breath. “Yes,” she admitted. “There are whispers of discourse in the zephyr High Court, and Nestra is a crafty thing. I cannot say exactly what she is trying to accomplish, but if she is truly after her, it’s best to keep her hidden for now.”
Gwen’s scowl deepened. She didn’t like being talked about like she wasn’t there. She opened her mouth to say it, but Abigail cut her off.
“When Levian reached out to me, I promised her complete and utter secrecy. I promise you the same now. Nothing about you or our meeting will be shared.”
It didn’t really matter to Gwen who Abigail shared it with. It wouldn’t be anyone she knew, but she got the gist. Until this got sorted out, she needed to stay hidden. Gwen still didn’t understand how all the politics of the magickal world worked. Civics hadn’t been her strong suit even before there’d been vampires and dragons and faeries involved. She’d gleaned enough to understand things didn’t work quite the same for creatures of magick who lived on the fringes. Without a faction or family or clan or whatever, Gwen was basically on her own. Unprotected. If not for whoever this mysterious person was who’d contracted Sirus, she would have been snatched by this Nestra priestess woman. It was beyond unnerving.
Gwen let her breath out slowly before she offered her sincere thanks for the witch’s discretion. “Why don’t you go fetch Sirus from the garden,” Abigail told her. “I need to have a private word with Levian.”
Gwen had the distinct feeling they were going to be talking about her the moment she left, but she didn’t argue. She needed the air. “Sure,” she said and headed for the doors.
The moment she stepped out into the darkness, Gwen took in a deep breath, full to the brim with the scent of roses. As she let it out, her heart fell. It’d been silly. She’d both dreaded and hoped the witch was going to be able to give her answers. And now that it was done, and Abigail hadn’t, she was overwhelmingly disappointed.
