“See? You should have been paying attention.” Gunnar sounds pleased with himself.
“I was, fucker. He was there when you walked over.”
“Jesus, you act like I need a fucking babysitter,” Torin deadpans, ignoring Gunnar and Calix’s bickering.
I spin around. There are several people watching him, both men and women, some with interest while others seem wary of him. “I just wanted to make sure our ride didn’t bail.” I punch him in the arm. It’s not the whole truth, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Did you find anything out?”
“I’ll leave that to them. I don’t really associate with the witches.” Torin looks over the crowd much like he did at the party at his own house, like he’s seen it all before and it bores him. We should probably try to make sure this night doesn’t end like the other—in bloodshed. Unless it’s Antonio’s, then I’m totally on board. I’m not going to get my hopes up by thinking finding him will be this easy though.
“Is the coven leader here?” I look around, expecting to see someone like Vanessa sauntering around the club with an entourage and too much lip filler.
“That’s him.” Torin openly points to a man seated in a semicircle booth by himself. His eyes are already on us. I note the graying hair near his temples. He looks like he could be anywhere from his late thirties to early fifties, and he wears the distinguished gentleman look well. There’s a short glass of amber liquid resting near his hand, and I see the twinkle of his cuff link from across the room.
“You guys gave him one hell of a show.” Torin chugs his drink, seeming rather disinterested. I have a moment to wonder if it was a good idea to bring him here. It was just a few days ago when he was wasting away on a couch.
“Oh well, then we should probably go introduce ourselves.” I don’t wait for the others. I know they will follow me.
He never once breaks eye contact with me as we approach. As we grow closer, I focus hard to see his aura. It’s taken some practice to isolate auras in such a busy place, but it’s coming to me easier every time I try. Not long ago, I would have had to touch him to glean any useful information. He’s not covered in soot the way I expected him to be, instead his aura is mostly green with some red laced throughout.
Gunnar somehow ends up in front of me when we reach the man’s table. I step to the side and give the Berserker a glare before looking at the man seated in the booth. He seems completely calm, even with Grim standing on my other side. His presence seems to make most people very uncomfortable, so it’s notable that this witch doesn’t seem bothered.
“Hello,” he offers in a light, friendly voice.
“Hi, I’m Dami. What’s your name?” I push Grim to the side with my body and take a seat at the edge of the booth. My legs are still trembling a little, so the break is welcome.
“Gregory.” He steeples his fingers on the table and examines me with shrewd eyes. “Excuse my forwardness, but what are you?”
“Direct, I can respect that,” I reply, even as Gunnar lets out a little growl. “It’s okay, Kitten.” I reach out and pat the side of his thigh. “What I am isn’t nearly as important as why I’m here. Now that would be a good question to ask.”
The man dips his head in what seems like an apology. “Forgive me, I’ve just never met someone with so much potential.”
“Potential? That’s what you’re calling it?” Torin chuckles and drains another glass. “What he means is raw power.”
“Why are you here, dear lady?” the witch inquires.
“I’m looking for someone, someone it would be in your best interest to help me find, if I’m being honest.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, you see, it’s another witch. One who’s been very naughty and needs to be stopped. I’m afraid if we don’t put a stop to him sooner rather than later, it may be bad for your entire species.” I take a closer look at Gregory’s aura. It’s pretty clear he has evidence of sins on his soul, but that works in his favor right now, because I know he hasn’t been working with Antonio.
“This witch you’re speaking of—what have they done to warrant your attention?”
Calix slides into the other side of the circular bench so Gregory is trapped between us. “As I said, he’s been a very bad man, and he hurt a friend of mine.” I don’t tell him who. I would never betray Aeson that way. Speaking of the Brownie, she’s around here somewhere, probably learning way more than we have just by observing. One of the reasons Brownies are so dangerous is because they can go virtually unseen.
“That is certainly a shame. Is that why you’ve collected this group? To avenge your friend? If I join the effort, do I get the rewards?” Grim moves so fast it’s as if he blinked the few feet to Gregory. He leans over the table, his hand wrapped around the witch’s throat.
From my seated position, I can see the red flames dancing in Grim’s eyes. Gregory finally shows the first sign of fear—his eyes widen and his face goes unnaturally pale. Torin lets out a belly laugh, sounding slightly unhinged.
I lay my hand on Grim’s forearm to calm him. “Not smart, Gregory,” I admonish him. “Grim, let’s not kill him until we see if he has any information for us. Plus, it will leave Kitten in a right mess. We did just kill the coven leader of our city.”
“I don’t care,” Gunnar spits. “Kill him.”
“You’re not helping,” I snap at Gunnar. “Grim, let him go please. You won’t speak like that again, will you, Gregory?”
The witch never even bothers lifting his hands to fight off Grim; he knows it will be no use. He does, however, give the slightest shake of his head—as much as Grim’s grip allows.
“See? He just didn’t know you guys are mine and I’m yours.” Grim turns his head and looks at me. His eyes are full of flames and I sigh a little. He’s just so monstrously gorgeous.
