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“Plus, I’m a blood relative.” As much as it shamed me to admit it. “Your salting of the earth philosophy requires my death.”
“That too.” Her gaze slid to the director. “I don’t mind him, when he’s like this.”
“Under your thumb? A veritable zombie? A shell under your absolute control?”
“Yes,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing to slits.
“It sounds like you’re the one desperate for love.”
A bark of laughter twisted her features, draining them of any real amusement. “I don’t need love.”
“Says the woman who enslaved her former lover.”
“He’s the second most powerful witch alive,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “He will help me tear down the foundations of his legacy. He will bear witness to his own destruction. He will watch as I wipe his bloodline from the face of the Earth, destroying his hopes as he ruined mine.” Vindication gave her a dewy glow. “This time, I was more cautious. This time, I will succeed in bringing him to his knees.”
“This time?” I studied her. “This is your second attempt?” I don’t know why it popped in my head, unless I had been worrying it in the back of my mind since Mom became a vengeful spirit. “The Boo Brothers?”
“They taught me subtlety was lost on Albert,” she said darkly. “That a full-scale assault was the only hope I had of gaining and holding his attention.”
“How much of your treasure trove did you steal from Black Hat’s own vaults?”
Her cunning smile was answer enough, and her confession explained how she came into possession of a shard like the ones the Amherst siblings had used to conceal their black magic nature. It had been hers before she passed it on to the BooBrothers in what must have been her inaugural attempt at taking down the Bureau.
A prickling sensation tingled down my nape, jarring a thought free that hadn’t occurred to me sooner.
The director had likely cast the spell that trapped Dad. Only a strong witch could have tricked him. But someone had cast the spell on the director, and it wasn’t her. She was fae. Her powers didn’t work that way, or she wouldn’t have had to fake her heritage to blend in with black witches. That meant she had one more accomplice nearby. One powerful enough, or familiar enough, to get close and cast a spell to rob the director of his autonomy before he could deflect the attack.
“Who else is here?” I kept my gaze locked on her. “You couldn’t have done this on your own.”
“An old friend.” A slow smile spread her red lips. “I believe you two know one another.”
Kenneth Cale, a black witch from the Lyonne coven out of Beverly, Massachusetts, appeared next to her. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see him again. He was her current lover and the one responsible for the compulsion tattoo on Isiforos.
“No hard feelings, I hope.”
“None whatsoever.” I tipped my chin. “As soon as I kill you for what you did to Isiforos, we’re square.”
Chuckling, he summoned a foul wind that sent my hair swirling around my face, blinding me.
Before I could wipe my eyes clear, I hit my stomach, clipping my jaw on the ground, and spat dirt.
He had moved quicker than my eyes could track. No wonder he had gotten the drop on the director.
He drove an elbow into my spine, shocking a gasp out of me. As soon as his weight left me, I torqued my hips, flipping onto my back, but he stood a foot away. I couldn’t reach him. I had to lure him in. Only one way to do that, and it would hurt. A lot.
“Come a little closer,” I wheezed, locking my arms down at my sides, leaving my tender middle exposed. “Let’s see you laugh in my face.”
Without flinching, he kicked me in the gut and then in the chest before zipping back to a safe distance.
He was fast. I couldn’t do faster. But I could be prepared for his next strike.
Spitting blood, I wedged my elbows under me. “That all you got?”
With a smirk, he delivered a punishing kick to the underside of my jaw that left me seeing stars as my skull bounced off the ground. I didn’t have to fake my disorientation as I let my head loll and my eyes spin from the brute force of his attack. I breathed through clenched teeth, every inhale whistling as my aching ribs protested the motion.
Kenneth crouched to drink me in, the big bad director knocked on her butt, and couldn’t resist getting in a parting shot while I played possum. He fisted my hair, yanking me to him, putting us nose to nose.
Big mistake.
