AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Shelby was the cop who was kidnapping shifters?”
“Not just shifters. And not shifters, specifically.” I paused, frowned slightly. “How much do you know about innate magic?”
“Not much.”
“Well, there’s apparently a couple different kinds. Witches and warlocks. And I guess warlocks, or some warlocks, really don’t like witches because… I don’t fucking know why, but they don’t. The Ordo is a bunch of those warlocks. They hate witches, and they really fucking hate Arcanid witches. From what we can tell—and it hasn’t been easy—they’ve specifically targeted Arcanids with innate witch magic.”
“How would you know that? If they’re dead?”
“Ward, mostly,” I answered. “He’s usually able to get something out of them to that effect. Some of them know they’re witches, and some of them have mentioned things like knowing what the weather will be, even when the weather people are wrong, or knowing that something bad is about to happen. That kind of shit.”
“That’s witch magic?”
I shrugged. “Doc says it can be.”
“Why do you call him that?” Taavi took a sip of his water.
“Doc? Cuz he’s a doctor.”
“No one else calls him that.”
I shrugged, feeling the pointed tips of my ears heating again. “I did it once, and it stuck, I guess.”
Taavi looked at me with that one brown eye. “And if you point it out to everyone at a crime scene, then they have to show a little more respect.”
I blinked. “Um. Sure?”
He let out a sound that was surprisingly like the chuff he’d made as a dog.
A server came over to take our order and left behind a basket of bread. My mother would have been so proud that I offered the basket to Taavi before taking a piece myself.
“So Mason is a witch?” Taavi asked, moving back to the original thread of the conversation. I wondered how he’d managed to spend so much time around Doc and Ward and not know that Doc is a witch. Then again, I suppose if Doc hadn’t needed to cast, it might not have been relevant.
“Yep. And Ward’s a warlock.” I spread butter on my bread and took a bite. It was warm and yeasty.
Taavi frowned a little. “I don’t quite understand the difference.”
“Me, neither,” I admitted. “You really want to know, ask Doc, but be prepared for an hour-long lecture.”
Taavi’s lips curved upward at that, and he ate some of his bread, without butter, his mismatched eyes meeting mine.
“Can I—ask a personal question?” I asked, a little hesitant.
He studied me with those eyes, his head tilting to the side. “Yes.”
“Can you see out of it?” That was undoubtedly rude, but it had been driving me nuts since I’d dragged his hairless ass out of the dumpster.
I wondered for a flash if his human ass was also hairless, then told myself to stop that line of thoughtright now. Christ.
“Light and shadow only,” he answered, the tension that had appeared on his face when I’d asked about a personal question sliding away. I couldn’t decide if I should ask what happened or not, and he clearly read it on my face. It was honestly a little disturbing how good he was at that. Most people aren’t. “I was twenty-two, and made the mistake of going into the wrong kind of bar.” The smile he offered me thinned his lips.
“What kind of bar is the wrong kind?” I wanted to know.
“The kind that a bunch of assholes see you coming out of and decide to try to beat you to death,” he answered.
Oh. A gay bar. And I was guessing that the assholes in question were not themselves gay. Or at least hadn’t admitted to themselves that they were.
“So bigoted fuckwads.”
