‘You’re family now. We eat together every Sunday, and if you don’t attend, I shall take it as a grave insult. Trust me, the last thing you want to do is insult a witch.’ Aunt Rowan winked at Cynthia before leading them through the dining room, down the hall and to the front entry.
Thomas drew his sister in for a hug as they donned their coats. ‘I’m not telling you what to do, Cyn.’
Cynthia raised an eyebrow at her brother. ‘But?’
‘But please let us handle the investigation from this point forward. You’ve done admirably, but it is too dangerous.’
Helena closed the distance, drawing next to Cynthia and catching the hint of vanilla and honeysuckle. ‘By “us”, do you mean the men?’ She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. ‘Life is dangerous. Women have known this since the beginning of time, because men have always been a threat. Maybe that is why there are only female witches. The goddess believes in balance.’
‘Cynthia isn’t a witch, and this isn’t a game.’ Thomas stepped forward, and Helena mirrored his movements, water pooling in her palms and gathering on her skin like dew.
Clio gripped Thomas’ arm to pull him back as sparks danced along his dinner jacket.
Stepping between her brother and Helena, Cynthia held her hands out. ‘Stop.’ A wave of energy pulsed, and for a moment, they all froze.
Helena, Clio, and Ellie looked to their aunt. She shook her head.
That wasn’t me.
Uncle Lachlan’s dark brows knitted over his deep brown eyes, and Thomas glared at Aunt Rowan before returning his focus to Cynthia. He had felt their aunt’s powers before, and no doubt assumed she orchestrated the magical moment.
Cynthia didn’t seem to notice the energy shift. ‘I know that you love me, Thomas. And I love you. I promise that I won’t do anything rash.’
‘Thank you.’ Thomas exhaled.
‘Unless I have a witch with me to keep me safe.’
Thomas’ cheeks flushed with anger. ‘Cyn.’ It was a warning growl.
She pulled her brother into a quick hug, whispering something into his ear that ended the argument.
‘You are impossible. Do you know that?’
Cynthia smiled, brilliant and bright. ‘I’m beginning to discover quite a few things about myself.’
Thomas shook his head before turning to help Clio into her coat.
Helena stepped close, speaking low so only Cynthia could hear. ‘Will you promise that I am the witch who keeps you safe in this investigation?’ Helena trusted Clio and Ellie with her life. She would go into battle with her aunt against the Devil himself. But she didn’t want Cynthia going to them for help.
She is mine to protect.
‘Only if you let me repay you for your efforts.’
Helena’s mouth went dry as every thought evaporated in the heat of Cynthia’s gaze.
Thomas opened the door for her sister, and she winked at Helena before turning and stepping into the night.
Sneaky minx. You’ve stolen the words from my lips.
And she would steal more than that if Helena wasn’t very careful.
Cynthia’s front parlour was an echo of a past life to which she no longer belonged. Standing in the centre of the room, a place where she had hosted a million afternoon teas with ladies who giggled and simpered and never once spoke of anything real, it was painfully apparent Hubert’s death had changed the very foundations of her life. Or perhaps just cracked the false shell she had constructed and revealed the real woman hiding beneath.
She looked at the couches all chosen with an eye for Hubert’s taste. The furniture was heavy and covered in jewel-toned upholstery. While Cynthia longed for bright spaces and light colours, her husband’s affinity for the baroque style was evident in every piece of furniture, every heavy curtain, every ornately carved sconce. And soon, she would be free of it. What a terrifying and exhilarating thought.
Helena sat across from her on a dark walnut settee. It had been a week since the dinner party, and they had seen little of each other in the flurry of activity required to pack up one’s life and start anew. Helena had come by to update Cynthia on the investigation. Cynthia believed Helena conjured the excuse so they could be together, and she was thrilled. The recounting of the investigation took all of five seconds. There wasn’t much to share. Superintendent MacDougal and her brother had found no leads into the location of George Lippert. Sinclair might be an evil man bent on destruction, but he ran a tight ship with no holes in it. No one in Seven Dials was talking.
Helena could have left, but Cynthia invited her to stay for afternoon tea, and they had spent a delightful hour speaking about all manner of topics.
