Gray Witch (Black Hat Bureau 5)

“You and Markus summoned the Boo Brothers.” I started off easy. “How did you do it?”

“Advent.” Her breath hitched. “New guy in the guild. Played with us for months. Got tight with Markus. Even streamed a few movies together.”

“Movies like Game Over?”

A flicker of surprise lightened her eyes, and she stammered, “Y-yeah.”

“And then?”

“Markus bragged we were witches, said he bet he could summon an avatar like in the movie. Advent asked if we ever cast any spells.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “Markus said no, and Advent hooked him up with a few easy ones to see if they would work.”

And just like that, the Amhersts handed Parish the perfect vehicle for their revenge.

“I’m guessing they did.”

“No.” Her voice went softer. “They didn’t.”

“Did Advent have a cure for that?”

“H-he told us if we wanted magic, real magic, we should kill our parents. That we would become more powerful if we…” she wet her lips, “…ate their hearts.”

Already knowing the answer, I still asked her. “And did you?”

“Our dad knocked us around a lot, and our mom let him.” Her jaw flexed. “One night, he hit me so hard, I was unconscious for twenty minutes. Markus was terrified. He thought Dad had finally killed me.” Her cheeks flushed. “Markus killed him instead.” Her eyes dilated. “I couldn’t believe it.”

“What happened next?”

“He told me we were in this together, that I had to do my part.” The tremble in her voice might have been remorse…or it might have been excitement. “I had to kill Mom to make us even.”

“Did you?”

“I didn’t think I could eat her heart. It was this bloody, messy glob of raw meat.”

The description alone was enough to have me tasting copper and craving salt.

“Markus went first. He took a bite out of Dad’s heart, and he…changed. The spells that didn’t work before worked then.” She swallowed hard. “We knew our parents were witches, but they didn’t practice. They didn’t have enough magic. I think…maybe…that was why Dad hated us so much. Markus and I weren’t powerful, but we had something. I think Dad…that he…wanted it, and since he couldn’t have it, he decided to beat it out of us too.”

The grandmother had power, which Mr. Amherst must have grown up envying. But for his kids to have a spark where he had none? I could see how that would turn him bitter, but it was no excuse. There was none for harming children.

“How many people did you kill?”

“Me?” Her eyes rounded. “None.”

A glint of humor slipped her careful mask, and I discovered which side of the line she fell on.

“Malcom?” Trinity tried to recover the remorseful act, but I had seen through it. “He must have killed four, no five, people.”

“Did Malcom choose the victims, or did you?”

“Let’s see.” Her forehead scrunched. “There was the cop who came to the inn after customers reported shouting, saw me bleeding in a corner, and left. There was a teacher who suggested therapy would help me cope with the abuse. She could have reported my parents, she could have saved us, but she didn’t. Then there was the preacher who told us to pray for our parents. There was a boy from school who told me he loved me, used it to get in my pants, then posted it online for all his friends to enjoy.” She counted them off on her fingers. “I feel like I’m leaving someone out, but that’s four.”

“Do you feel any remorse?”

“Do you think they lost any sleep over me?”

“You understand there are consequences for your actions.”

“Worth it,” she told me. “No regrets.”