“You feeling all right, babe?” Ethan asks, dropping an arm around me.
“I’m tired,” I admit, wrinkling my nose. “And my throat is starting to hurt.”
Frowning, Ethan brushes my hair back and presses his hand to my forehead. “You feel a little hot.”
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him, aware that Sam and Stephanie are watching again. I can only imagine the fun they’ve had talking about me behind my back. “How much longer do you think it’ll be before we’re, uh, told why we’re here?”
“We’re waiting on one more hunter,” David answers. He is sitting in a chair near the window, reading his book again. “His flight got rerouted after a medical emergency. He should be here soon.” He looks at his watch. “Yes, very soon.”
“I’m sure it’s for a job,” Harold chimes in. “They brought the cream de la crop of hunters to HQ.”
“They did.” Ethan looks around. “Whatever is going on is serious.”
“It’ll be a good payday,” one of the other hunters says. He introduced himself as Jared during lunch and came here with the other hunter named Apollo, as they’re both from the south. They work a lot of jobs together, since they’re more efficient as a team. But Apollo has a wife and two kids back in Louisiana, and Jared seems to live a bachelor lifestyle similar to Ethan. Before he met me, that is.
Everyone here does seem quite prolific. Ethan and his father are well-known within the Order for being top-tier hunters. Julia doesn’t partake in the physical aspect of hunting, but is a whiz behind a keyboard and can hack into databases and traffic cams, pulling up helpful information quickly.
Stephanie, like Sam, is a bit in the middle, a good hunter, and an even better con artist, which comes in handy when you’re sneaking around and lying to get into places that normal people don’t have access to.
“Is this how you normally find out about jobs?” I ask, able to use my curiosity since I’m a potential member after all.
“Not usually,” Ethan answers. “Unless it’s something big, we just get an email or a text.”
“That’s easy.”
He nods and brushes my hair back, frowning again when he feels my forehead. This time, I do let my eyes fall shut, just listening to the chatter around me. Another full hour passes before Carl comes back into the room, letting us know he’s ready to brief us on the situation. We follow him into a conference room, and the hunter we were waiting on is already there, seated at the head of the table. The guy is old, weathered, and has a large scar going diagonally across his face.
He’s seen things. Fought things. And he eyes me right away, as if he can tell I’m a witch.
Swallowing hard, I take a seat between Ethan and Julia, sliding the folder that’s been placed in my spot closer. I open it only to want to close it again. There are crime scene photos inside, and they’re not anything like what you see in the movies. These images are going to stay with me forever.
“Now I know you are all wondering why you’ve been summoned here today,” Carl starts. “As you’re aware, two of our fellow brothers have met mysterious ends. One hunter, Rodger Altman, is still missing and no trace of him has been found. We have scoured the area for him but it’s like he’s simply disappeared, which we know cannot be the case. The last time he came into contact with anyone he claimed to have been the victim of a truth spell.”
The hunters all mummer to each other and I press my lips together. There aren’t truth spells but truth potions. I’ve made one before.
“And the latest victim, God rest his soul.” Carl makes the sign of the cross in front of his chest. “Is believed to have been the victim of a ritualistic killing. Which leads me to why you are here: F ind the witch responsible for this and bring her to me.”
Chapter
Twelve
Carl’s voice echoes around me, but none of his words sink in. Five people around this table know I’m a witch, and they’re all waiting to see me react. Ethan’s hand lands on my thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. A million thoughts run through my mind, first of all being there’s no way a witch is killing hunters.
Second, even if a witch was killing hunters, I wouldn’t hand her over to the Order. But what would I do? She killed people and needs to be dealt with. It’s not my responsibility to come up with the punishment, but it would be my responsibility to hand her over to the proper authorities.
Keyword being proper. If this witch belonged to my coven, then it would be up to our High Priestess to handle it as she sees fit, and I’m sure Tabatha is more reasonable and would contact the police. Witches are human, after all. I’m sure powers would have to be bound in order to fit into a regular prison, but again, that’s not something I would have to do.