Witch For Hire (Witch For Hire 1)

The room falls silent as we all focus on our meals. Their meat is bloody, and mostly ignored in favor of the cabernet I know has more than grapes, sugar, and yeast.

“Tell me, Louella, what did you do while you were away?” Cristobal inquires, his gaze meeting mine.

“I ran an herbal remedy shop and studied.”

“In college?” Miles asks, intrigued.

I can’t help but smile at the eternal scholar who came to us via England. “No, the old ways. There were things I needed to understand and grasp on my own.”

“And you couldn’t do that here?” Luz asks.

“No. There was too much influence and old power at work. This state is a hotbed of paranormal activity for a reason. I wanted to see beyond that and go back to basics organically. The same way any other child leaves the nest and makes their own way to decide if what they’ve been raised to believe is their truth.”

“And was it?” Rene asks.

I nod my head. “Yes. It took me a long time to accept that, but truth is truth.”

“Why come back?” Ada asks.

I turn to the tawny-skinned, caramel-complexioned woman with dreadlocks.

“Economic hardship, fate?” I pause. “Because you can only run from yourself for so long.”

She nods her approval. Ada is older for a vampire. In her mid-thirties with wisdom wizened brown eyes and faint traces of magic I can’t quite put my finger on, she’s a mystery I can’t unravel. Every vampire line has a talent. Descending from Rasputin’s stock, Cristobal’s people have a kind of vampiric magic. What Ada carries is more than that. I squint, almost able to see the outline of her aura outside of the dark one that takes over when people turn.

“And what are you expecting to find here with us?” Larkin asks.

“A compromise we can all live with it. I’m not expecting you to bend the knee and pledge your loyalty when you don’t know me, and clearly, I never had the chance to get to know the real versions of you. All I’m asking for is a clean slate, and a chance to form something more than tolerance of each other,” I state.

Larkin nods his head in approval. “Good answer.”

“Honest one.” When I shrug in response, the action briefly makes me worry I might expose more than I want to at this table. And in this case, it would be worse than Janet Jackson at the Super Bowl. Damn Gillet and his dress choices.

“And you accept this so easily now when it sent you fleeing in the past?” Luz’s expression is distrustful, and I don’t blame her.

“No, it took years to come to this, and I’m still coming to grips with all of it. But better the devil you know. We all want things to stay exactly as they are. Cristobal is a good ruler, you’re on the top of the food chain, and Cypress is at peace. It’s my duty to keep it that way on both sides of the spectrum.”

“And therein lies the problem,” Marcellus says quietly. “One day you’re going to have to pick a side. Are you a witch or one of us? I have my thoughts on which side you’d land on.”

“What you see as a weakness, I see as my greatest strength.”

“Optimism is the first to fade, dear lady. But for your sake, I hope you’re right.” The somber note hits me in the gut. I’m better when dealing with his anger.

Everyone melts away once dinner finishes, leaving Cristobal and me alone.

“That went better than I anticipated,” he says.

“If you mean no one’s dead, I agree,” I mutter.

“Walk with me.” Rising, he holds out his hand.

I stand. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t feel like holding hands.”

“I will touch you far more than this at the equinox.” He holds his position.

“How could I ever miss this?” I whisper as I place my hand in his palm.

“Miss what?”