As the hostess walked out onto the moonlit rooftop, I heard the sharp inhale of Corinne’s breath, heard the way it caught in her throat, and every instinct of mine thrummed through my blood, demanding that I draw my firearm and eliminate whatever threat walked towards us.
Corinne
The woman who walked towards us, clipboard in hand, wasn’t Lauren, but the resemblance was too similar for her to be anything but related to the Voodoo Priestess.
I couldn’t allow her to approach the table - not with my parents seated across from Dimitri, because there was no accounting for what she might say.
I pushed up from my chair, hoping that Dimitri would keep my parents distracted. If there was ever a time to work in unison, then now would be it. It took me three giant strides to meet the fellow Witch across the rooftop, and she smiled at my approach - as if she had been expecting me. The Witch probably had.
“Lauren sends her regards.”
She was just as beautiful as Lauren was, with wrapped blonde braids and skin that smelt like Moroccan oil.
“Don’t lie.” I answered pleasantly. “She probably has a doll weighed down in pins named after me on display.”
“Would it work?”
“Probably not.” I shrugged, unsure of the truth of my statement. Still, the woman before me laughed without joyous restraint, and I couldn’t stop the smile that formed at the sound of her joy. In another life, we may have been friends.
“Why are you here?” I sobered enough to ask her the question.
“I’m here to inform you that if you and your Club do not cease your dabbling with Demons, we will be forced to retaliate.” Her nose wrinkled in distaste on the word Club, and any camaraderie I may have felt towards her dissipated on the promise of a threat.
“Is that so?” I goaded, smiling the Society smile my mother had drilled into me. “And, pray tell, how will you retaliate?”
I had no fucking idea what Charl was doing with Demons, but I would be damned if I rolled over and accepted her threat.
“You may think you’re impenetrable, but those around you are not.” She leant in as she spoke, and the smell of incense and oil filled the space between us.
“Do not threaten me and mine.” I spoke quietly, gravely aware that my parents sat a few meters away from us, no doubt watching this entire exchange.
“And who is yours?” She smiled at me, and even in it’s viciousness, it was achingly beautiful. “Is Dimitri yours?” She goaded. “His men?”
I held myself still, refusing to show her an inch of the panic that clawed through me.
She stepped back, releasing me from her secrets and threats.
“Tell that traitor that her community misses her - and when she is done pretending that Magick is nothing more than a business, she will be welcomed home.”
“If you think your guilt trips will bring Zoey back to you, then you are sorely mistaken.”
She shrugged her shoulders as if my answer was expected.
Her gaze darted past my shoulder, settling on Dimitri, and I had the insane urge to step in front of them, blocking him from sight.
“When war breaks out, remember that it was not without warning.” She spoke softly, but I heard every word, her threat building in the air between us.
“A Witch wronged is a dangerous creature.” I responded softly, and although, to an outsider, it looked as if I were sharing feminine secrets with a friend, there was nothing friendly in my words.
I may not have needed to use my claws, but that didn’t mean I did not have them. I thought of Sven and how he looked when I handed him a mug of tea; of Ravi and Stepen, and how they had crept into my life, dropping off beignets for me regularly. No. The Witch that stood before me would not threaten everything I held dear, not when Dimitri sat behind me, somehow swaying my parents into believing that I belonged here with him.