Black Arts, White Craft (Black Hat Bureau 2)

Next timemeant he was actively plotting patricide, which would make him king. Had he done the math? Or was he so blinded by hatred for his father that he couldn’t see allowing his father to live was the only hope Asa had for a normal-ish life? Murder was satisfying, but the price of instant gratification was high.

“Of that, I have no doubt.” I started plaiting, careful to keep his braids tidy. “Done.”

“About time.”

I swallowed a yelp as I spun to find Clay standing in the doorway with Colby on his shoulder.

“I thought you were packing.” Colby twitched her wings. “This isn’t packing.”

“We couldn’t find you in your room,” Clay explained, “so we followed the smell of feelings in here.”

Heat climbed up my nape to tingle in my ears. Black witches—former black witches—didn’t blush.

“You mean the scent of green apple essential oil.”

That I hadn’t bought because it reminded me of Asa. It was popular, okay? Check any haircare aisle.

“Mmm-hmm.” Clay rolled his eyes in tandem with Colby. “Sure.”

Letting them team up, I was starting to see, was a very bad idea. For me.

“We’re done in here.” I backed away from Asa. “I’ll go get packing.”

Colby flitted from Clay’s shoulder to mine as I passed him, wings jittering. “Where are we going?”

“Tennessee, to the mountains.”

Interest fluttered along her spine. “What’s the case?”

“A black witch raised a wendigo zombie.”

“A real zombie?” Her macabre delight bothered me. “Does it eat people?”

“Yes,” I admitted after accepting she would find out soon enough, “but wendigo do that anyway.”

“Why does everything eat people?” A shudder rippled through her. “They can’t taste that good.”

“You would be surprised,” Asa murmured, “what can be accomplished with the right spices.”

The urge to glance back at him after that comment twitched in my neck. “That was a joke, right?”

“He was kidding.” Clay tugged a lock of my hair. “Mostly.”

Eyes wide, Colby studied Asa with new interest that worried me more than the spice comment.

“Our mission—” I jostled my shoulder, “—is to hunt down the black witch and their pet zombigo before they hurt more people.”

“Zombigo.” Her wings tickled my ear. “You’re so lame.”

“Most people don’t sass me and live to tell about it.”

“That’s a lie.” She scoffed as we entered my room. “Camber and Arden do it all the time. So does Clay.”

“I used to be fearsome.” I set her on the bed then started packing. “I don’t know where I went wrong.”

“You gave up the wicked witch life,” she teased. “That means no more hexing people who annoy you.”

“Ugh.” I almost missed the days when I could wreak havoc without conscience. “Don’t remind me.”