Page 33 of Grimoires & Glamoury

“Honey, it’s time for bed,” he said, and my stomach gave one hard lurch at the innocent words for his daughter.

Get ahold of yourself! I scolded myself.

Chloe made a loud whine of disappointment but hopped down from my lap.

“Tell Miss Lorna goodnight,” he said, taking her hand.

“Night!” Chloe grinned at me. “Can I come see you at your bookstore?”

“Sure, come by any time.” I reached into my bag for the stem of verbena that I’d picked. “This is for you, Chloe. I want you to keep it in your room.”

“Is it a magick flower?” she wanted to know.

“It’s verbena,” I said, with a smile, “and yes, it is.”

“Okay!” Chloe said, twirling the stem.

“Put it by your bed,” I suggested.

“We absolutely will,” her father promised. “Be right back.”

He returned faster than I expected, and joined me on the couch, but seated himself at the opposite end of the sofa, keeping a socially acceptable distance between the two of us. Now that Chloe was out of the room, his demeanor had shifted back to a more formal one.

He inclined his head. “You said you had something to discuss with me?”

“Right.” I reached for my bag to withdraw the files. “I had a private investigator take a look into Shelby and Sawyer’s backgrounds.”

He sat slightly forward. “What did you find?”

I got straight to the point. “Do you know where Sawyer’s people are from?”

“Sawyer is from Missouri—the Rolla area. But he’s estranged from his family.”

“Is that what he told you?” I asked, as I went through the papers from Nash.

“Yes,” he answered. “When I interviewed him, I was more interested in his degree in library sciences and his work experience than his hometown.”

I nodded. “In your position as the leader of a ceremonial lodge, may I ask if you’ve had contact, or dealings, with other Supernatural communities in the south?”

“Not formally in my capacity as the head of the lodge, no I have not.”

“Okay,” I said. “Have you ever heard of a place called Hemlock Hollow?”

Charles didn’t react to my question. In fact, everything about him went unnaturally still.

“Have you?” I pressed for his answer.

He didn’t so much as blink. “I have.”

“Sawyer is from Hemlock Hollow, and his family still resides there.” I held out the page with Sawyer’s personal information. “You may want to take a look at this.”

He took the page from me and read it. After a moment he lifted his eyes to mine. “Son of a bitch,” he hissed.

“My reaction was a bit more colorful,” I told him. “Especially when I was informed of Sawyer’s roommate’s manner of death and the likely murder weapon.”

Silently, he raised his eyes to mine in question.

“A long double-sided blade,” I answered. “Like a sword.”