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“I don’t understand.” Hannah frowned.
Rowan turned and glanced at the gathering clouds. “He’s marked the coven.”
“Mallick? But why?” Her voice gained some strength. “It’s you that he wants.”
“But he can’t find me. The mark is blind, remember?”
Hannah’s face whitened. “But why would he mark the coven? What good would that do? None of us are the kind of witch that he wants.” Her tone was harder.
You are.
The words weren’t spoken, but Rowan read them in Hannah’s eyes. It seemed old wounds were still raw, but she chose to ignore the obvious dig.
“I don’t think he cares about that. I think Mallick wants to make the James witches pay for keeping me from him, and if it takes eliminating the entire coven to get to me, that’s what he’ll do.”
“Mother-trucker,” Hannah bit out. “So what are we going to do?”
Rowan met her gaze full on and welcomed the fire that burned in her gut. It was the one what was going to get her through the next few weeks. The one that would get her to the end.
“We fight back. We need to gather the coven. Right now we’re scattered across the state, and we’re weak.”
Hannah nodded. “All right. I can make some calls.”
“Good, because I have no idea where anyone is.”
“I think Abigail is still in Canada, but Auntie Dot will know for sure.”
“Canada? Seriously?” Rowan frowned. “Why would she leave Salem?”
“Why else would a twenty-nine-year-old single woman leave her family and friends?”
“A man.”
Hannah nodded. “Bingo. She met him out on the water. The boat he was in nearly cut hers in half. There were injuries and blood and lust. They bonded in the ER.” Hannah’s eyes widened. “Auntie Dot is horrified. Horrified. Abigail had been dating an Ivy League professor from Boston, and I’m sure Auntie Dot was already planning the wedding. But now she’s shacked up with some Frenchman in another country.” She giggled then. “Living in sin as they would say.”
“Wow.” Rowan exhaled. She’d certainly missed a lot.
“Wow is right.” Hannah paused. “So who’s the tagalong?”
“What?” Rowan had forgotten how fast Hannah changed gears.
“The blond guy with the tight abs and weird-ass energy. You guys been together a while?”
Rowan blushed at the suggestive look in Hannah’s eyes and shook her head. “It’s not like that.”
“Well, what’s it like?” Hannah wasn’t giving up.
“It’s”—Azaiel was hard to define, and for a moment she was stumped—“he’s complicated, and honestly, I don’t know much about him. He showed up at the Cauldron last night.”
“Last night.” The teasing tone fled, and Hannah’s hands gripped tight around the gun once more. “Rowan, I know he’s one hell of a looker, but seriously, how do you know you can trust him?”
“I don’t really, but he helped me slay a pack of blood demons.”
“What?”
Rowan nodded. “It was a great homecoming,” she said bitterly.
“Well I hate to be the one to point this out, but how do you know he’s not the one who killed Cara? Maybe he’s trying to win your trust, so that he can hand you over to Mallick himself. His energy is way off. Like out-of-this-world off. I’ve never felt anything like him before.” Her eyes narrowed. “What is he?”
