“I do,” Stormshaft replied. “All my brothers do.”

“Go,” was Victor’s last word.

The werewolf sauntered from the office, leaving Victor to the shadows. He turned toward the windows where his city gleamed like hundreds of diamonds spread out for him to choose from. Yet he did not want any of them. Not now, anyway. He wanted that damn manor house in the country. He wanted to know its secrets and who had been there before.

Victor pulled out his phone and sent a series of encrypted messages to his vast network of informants. The wolf pack would do their job, but it was best to put other measures in place. The Titan reached for the glass of whiskey on his desk and drank the rest. I’m coming for you, little witch. But first, I’ll make sure you don’t have any friends.

Stacy stood in her office in the dim light of a desk lamp with the final registration paperwork stacked in a neat pile. “Finally.” She exhaled, feeling better about how the day had turned out. The paperwork was completed, and two new hires would be coming tomorrow. Now I can focus on more important things, she thought.

She emerged from her office after turning off all the lights and locked the door behind her. The estate’s garden was always like something out of a dream, but Stacy felt this was truer at night. The fountain water glowed in the moonlight with sprites either dozing on the stone or watching their reflections. The buzzing of insects filled the air, and a soft wind brushed through trees and flower bushes.

Stacy pulled in a deep breath. I understand why you liked it here so much, Mom. She imagined her mother’s life as a witch who eventually married the Red Dragon Constantine Drakethorn had been full of adventures. Perhaps Catherine made this her home because she wanted serene beauty to find solace in.

Had her mother come here to consider the enemies on the path ahead? Stacy certainly was. She roamed the walkway toward the house, which was now in shadow except for a few rooms on the lower level. Rowan, Amy, and Spencer had gone to bed hours ago. Ever the night owl, Stacy was still awake. Her eyes were tired, and her gait slowed. Maybe I should consider an earlier bedtime for my routine.

She thought of Victor and Lenny, wondering who might replace her former rival attorney. It doesn’t matter. I’ll stand for justice regardless.

She halted at the back door, taking in the house bathed in moonlight. After mustering confidence, she headed inside. She’d be no good if she didn’t get sleep.

CHAPTER FOUR

Amy sat in the passenger seat of her car, texting Stacy to say Spencer would be off for an investigation when she awoke but that they planned on being back at the house in time for dinner.

AMY

I don’t want to miss out on our new cook’s skills.

Her lips twitched in an uncontrollable smile at the thought of Stacy’s teasing last night. Get it together! she scolded herself, not wanting Spencer to see how her stomach did somersaults because he was around.

They hadn’t stayed up too late. She had sat in his room for about twenty minutes, explaining that the estate had belonged to Stacy’s mother but passed to her some twenty years later, following her death. Then, she retired for the night. In her own room, alone.

Amy hoped Stacy wouldn’t tell Rowan she’d seen her walk upstairs last night with Spencer. As attractive as Rowan was, his sternness over the standards for running the estate had turned him into more of a father figure to Amy. One who might not like that she’d had a man over.

Whatever, she thought. It was Stacy’s house, and if anyone was rooting for Amy and Spencer to get together, it was her.

After Amy had sent the text, the driver’s side door opened, and Spencer slid in, along with the morning chill. She shivered, and her eyes widened at the sight of a paper bag that smelled like pastries. “That guy in your kitchen gave these to me. Said they were for you. For the road.”

Amy took the bag, her grin brightening her face.

“Your friend’s cook is quite handsome,” Spencer added.

“His name is Rowan, and he’s a…” The word “dryad” almost left her tongue, but she’d have to explain myriad things if she started with that. She finished with, “An excellent cook! He used to work for Stacy’s mother.”

Spencer arched a brow. “He must have started very young, then. Didn’t her mother die twenty-five years ago? He doesn’t look old enough to have been a professional chef then.”

Amy realized she was walking a thin line. Thankfully, Spencer’s next question as he started the car had nothing to do with Rowan. “Ready to go?”

Stacy had provided this vehicle specifically for Amy’s journalist adventures. It was sleek, expensive, and packed with safety features. Spencer had whistled at the sight of it yesterday when Amy drove up to his house. Now, he seemed nearly beside himself with glee to be appointed its driver.

“Ready,” Amy responded with a small smile as she opened the bag and selected one of the pastries, knowing it would melt on her tongue. She had to fight off a satisfied moan at the taste. “I could have used more sleep, but I’m excited for today. If this investigation leads to real answers, it will change things big-time.”

“In your career or otherwise?” Spencer asked as he directed the car toward the gate.

“Both.” The gate appeared to open of its own accord, but Spencer didn’t seem to realize it. He must have assumed it had automatic functioning. This was partially true, though Amy wasn’t inclined to tell him it was magical, not only mechanical.

Humans without magic, like herself and Spencer, weren’t supposed to understand the supernatural things around them. Not clearly, anyway. Amy had come to see so much more as Stacy shared the world of magic with her. It felt like putting on a pair of glasses for the first time and not realizing how blurry things had been before.

Spencer, on the other hand, still thought the sprites around the estate were fireflies at night and flashes of sunlight during the day.

Amy remembered the day Stacy had dumped the truth on her. Since then, Stacy had been telling her other little things here and there. Sometimes, Amy still reeled from the revelations. She didn’t want to put Spencer through that. Not yet, anyway.

“We must stay vigilant and trust each other,” she remarked as Spencer drove the car through the winding, fog-laden roads of the countryside. “We could be walking into dangerous territory.”

“That’s why you have me, right?”

Amy smiled. “Yes.”

The road Spencer took between the estate and the city passed dense forests, open stretches of land, and small neighborhoods where the wealthy who desired a quieter life had built their homes. They were all the same—large, sprawling white houses with manicured lawns and small lakes of clear water.

Fog wreathed the air, and Amy sensed the chill despite being in the car. She glanced in the rearview mirror a few times without saying anything, but Spencer finally frowned and asked, “Looking for something?”

Her brow furrowed. What she thought she’d seen was no longer there.

Spencer took the car around a bend in the road, and Amy glanced into the mirror again, wondering if the black car she thought she’d seen would come after them. She saw nothing but the road they’d already traversed. “Never mind. I thought I saw someone following us.”

Rowan stood before the entrance of the Thorn estate, gaze fixed on the driveway in anticipation. Any moment now, they should arrive.

Amy had left less than twenty minutes ago with her new bodyguard, and Stacy was not yet awake. Rowan guessed she had been up late into the night in that shed she’d turned into an office. He’d learned during the short time she’d lived here that she was practically nocturnal. Much like her mother, he thought with a small grin.

Catherine had enjoyed the company of owls and other night creatures. She’d considered the moon and stars companions. Her witchy powers were more potent at night, too, and she had often conducted various rituals while Rowan rested. It had always worked with them because, with Catherine still in bed, Rowan arose at dawn and went to work. It now seemed this would be the case with Stacy, too.

The first car arrived, and Kiera alighted onto the gravel drive. She wore the same trench coat with matching hat, gloves, and boots, but this time, she carried a small suitcase. She always kept few possessions, a signifier that she’d never truly made her home anywhere. She was often on the move, drifting from place to place with her whole life packed into one bag.

She glided up the porch steps. Rowan took her bag and bent to kiss her cheek. “Good morning, Kiera. I’m glad you made it here.”

Her eyes were a soft shade of violet this morning, matching the flowers that had sprung up beneath the windows around the house. “Good morning to you, too, Rowan. I fully expected to find you awake early.” A knowing smile crossed her dark lips. “Seems that hasn’t changed.” Rowan had guessed she would come as early as she could, hoping to beat Miles and have a few moments of peace and quiet.

“I find all three of us have hardly changed,” Rowan replied. “For instance, I expect Miles to arrive with triple the amount of luggage as you.” He lifted her worn leather case for emphasis. As they faced the door, he added, “You decided to work here more quickly than I expected last night. I never got the chance to ask you why.”

“I told you it would come down to what I thought of Stacy. I liked her immediately, and I want to know her better. Something about her is…”

“Magical?”

Kiera nearly rolled her eyes but settled for narrowing them. “Well, of course. But something else, too.” The sidhe fae gestured at their surroundings. “And now, here I am.”