“I can explain the hex,” Briony piped up gently. She smiled at her friend, sitting up slightly straighter against Sebastian. “Anytime I do anything to anyone—whether that’s put a hex on them or give them a potion to get rid of a cold—whatever effects I bring are turned on me, only multiplied by three.”
“Oh, my sun, the Rule of Three is real.” Aiyanna gasped, her eyes widening. “I’m so glad I’m not a witch.”
Beside her, Cael shook his head.
Briony released a short laugh. “All witches aren’t hexed like this. Only a warlock can do this to someone, and even then it’s very difficult. When I understood what Radburn had done he said it took him four tries to get the spell right.”
“So you chose the only man in New Orleans capable of hexing, binding, and gagging you. And I thought I had it bad, picking the only man who won’t date me.”
His navy blue eyes blazing, Cael put his hand over the healer’s mouth until she silenced.
“You’re lucky I didn’t bite you,” she grumbled when he took his hand away, gnashing her teeth.
The other were bared his teeth right back, drawing a laugh from Briony, who twisted her neck to look up at Sebastian. “They’re fun to watch, aren’t they?”
He barked out a laugh, absolutely positive the wrong response would get him slugged in the face by Cael. “I’d use the term terrifying.”
Briony relaxed further, chuckling, as Harry rolled his eyes. “Animal-type creatures are weird as hell,” he murmured to himself, likely forgetting they could all hear him.
If Heath’s look could kill, Harry would’ve been reduced to a stain on Sebastian’s carpet.
“I think we have bigger fish to fry,” Harry said more loudly, his voice uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to making demands, something Sebastian decided to remedy in the near future.
Someone would have to run the brewery while he hunted down Radburn and his band of not-so-merry warlocks, after all, and Harry almost knew as much about the mechanics of Full Moon as Sebastian did.
“He’s right.” Sebastian rose slowly, helping Briony to her feet. While Aiyanna’s magic healed her outer wounds, the witch was obviously scared and completely drained of energy.
A glance at Aiyanna and Harry told him they were running at full capacity. Interesting. To an extent, maybe his powers had recharged their abilities, something he’d have to experiment with in the future.
Can I bring Briony’s energy back?
“If you need help taking care of this warlock, hit me up,” Cael said, his expression deadly.
“I’m in, too. Warlocks suck.” Aiyanna turned to Heath, batting her eyelashes. “All right, Hermione, apparate us back.”
“Who said I was a damn Gryffindor?” Heath snarled a second before the three of them vanished. A moment later, Heath came back. “Want me to take you home, Briony?”
She hesitated, looking to Sebastian with questioning eyes. He felt himself stand up straighter, pleased with her response. “Thanks, but I brought my car here.”
Heath nodded, his dark blond hair pulling free from where he’d tucked it behind his ears. “Let me know when you, Cael, and Aiyanna go after the warlock. We’ll be weakened, so I’ll call in Wish and a few of the shapeshifters to pick up the slack until you’re back.”
Raphael had made Heath Alpha in his absence, and also in the case where something happened to make him unable to fulfill his duties for the clan as lupus dux. It was a spit in the face to werewolf law, which states an Alpha could only be replaced by whoever kills them, but no one in the pack minded. As head soldier along with his mate, Sophia, Heath was already second-in-command of the pack.
Sebastian agreed; he had no intentions of allowing the pack to be hurt because of him. “I’m going tomorrow with Cael and Aiyanna. We need to finish this.” There was no use in waiting—Briony couldn’t speak freely or protect herself, and that was unacceptable.
Heath inclined his head and disappeared.
“You’re being rash,” Briony said at the same time Harry groaned.
“You’re so screwed.” Harry cried.
Indignant, Sebastian narrowed his eyes. The lightbulbs in the room flickered, and one that had weakened over the past months exploded in a burst of light and glass.
Remorseless, Harry’s hair darkened while he slammed the palm of his hand against Sebastian’s desk. “You know everything there is to know about beer and the beer business, so I listen to you. You know nothing about witches, so you should listen to us. They’ll kill you, Cael, and Aiyanna and make it look like you all went insane and turned on each other.”
Briony braced her small hand against the middle of Sebastian’s back, her gentle touch jarring him. “Many of the murders you see on the news, ones the police can tie up neatly, are these men and women. Their disregard for the regulations us witches follow is what makes them so dangerous—there’s no real limit to their power, and they know it.”
Sebastian considered the arsenal hidden underneath the floor in the garage at the firehouse. “We can take them.”
Harry began to argue, but Briony cut him off with a single serene look. “If you’re sure, then you’ll need to know as much as you can about what they’re capable of before tomorrow.”
For the next hour, she and Harry filled him in on everything they thought he’d need to know about warlocks. Sebastian learned that what they drew power from had no rhyme or reason—they could find a talisman that would double their capabilities, or be able to draw power from a human or creature.
“That’s where they cross the line,” Briony said. “They kill that person because it’s the easiest way to gain their power.”
“So you’d better hope you, Cael nor Aiyanna don’t harness whatever power they’re looking for,” Harry muttered. “Then you really won’t stand a chance.”
Casting a stern look at the young witch, Briony flicked him in the temple. Immediately she cringed, and a small purple bruise appeared just past the corner of her eye.
Sebastian growled low in his throat. He cupped her face in his hands, turning her head to see if any bones were broken. Luckily, it appeared her injury was limited to the bruise.
“I should’ve known better.” She smiled reassuringly, but Sebastian could tell the hit had given her a headache. “You need to stop being so negative, Harry. Nothing good comes from the sort of energy you’re putting out right now.”
“He needs to know,” Harry argued vehemently. “What if they show up and the warlocks realize Aiyanna is a magical goldmine? They’ll have her strung up in minutes, only keeping Cael and Sebastian alive long enough to watch her die.”
“The only person Cael would allow to string Aiyanna up is himself,” Sebastian muttered.
Harry cursed violently and stomped from the room, shouting over his shoulder his way out. “If you get yourself killed, I’ll run your business in the ground and laugh while I do it. Damn you, Briony, for getting the pack involved in your mess.”
Sebastian lunged at the younger man, but Briony held him back, her touch feather-light on his skin. “He’s only worried about you.”
He agreed, but that wouldn’t stop him from having a talk with the other witch about how he was to speak to women, especially Briony. Now that he knew her limitations, he saw how her only option had been to ask for help.
She was putting both her powers and her safety into his hands.
“Let’s get you home—you need to gather your things.”
Briony looked at him as if he had five heads. “Why?”
Pulling out his phone, he typed a message to his secretary, Linda, asking her to rearrange his appointments for the next few days. For the second time, he could smell Briony’s fear.
It insulted him to his core.
Glancing up, he saw her eyes fixated on a corner of the room, where there was nothing except a brick wall. Is there something else scaring her?
“You can read emotions, correct?” She�
��d never said as much to him, but she was far too in-tune with those around her not to have some sort of affinity for others’ feelings.
She nodded, finally meeting his eyes.
Holding her gaze, he neatly stacked the papers he still needed to work on, then put the rest in the basket for Linda to pick up. Experimentally, he rounded his desk and crowded her into the very wall she’d been watching a moment ago.
She made a small squeaking sound and planted her feet, desperate not to be driven into the corner. Something’s there.
That decided, he stopped pushing her, but kept himself inside her space. When he moved to touch her hand, her fear spiked again.
Muttering an oath, Sebastian moved as far away from her as he could. Her fear, her rejection hurt. His chest ached, and every part of him found the entire situation to be wrong.
He wanted to crush her to him, holding her until she realized he wouldn’t ever touch a hair on her in a harmful way. Better yet, he wanted to pleasure her until she forgot her fear, seeing him as a creature of sensuality before considering the dangers he presented.
But he’d seen what happened when a man lost control with a woman, witnessed his sister after she was attacked. He’d never do that to anyone. Sophia’s fear had made Briony’s seem like mild anxiety in comparison. So instead of releasing his beast upon the helpless, beautiful witch, he tried a different approach: honesty.
“What’s in that corner, and why are you so afraid of me?” He half-expected her to ignore his question, or simply tell him it was none of his business.
Without fail, Briony always surprised him. “There’s a ghost in that corner, and he wants me to help him move on from this place.”
“What does he look like?”
She tilted her head. “Middle-aged, balding, about five-feet-seven or eight, with medium-colored hair—I can’t tell what color it is, only the shade. He’s wearing a pair of overalls.”
Sebastian knew exactly whom she was referring to. Matthew Little had been one of his best employees, but let himself go after a bad divorce separated him from his children. It had been the seventies, and the courts agreed that, because of Matthew’s job, he wasn’t suitable to gain custody.
The lawyers Sebastian had on payroll now were much better than those he’d had access to those decades ago.
He pointed to the corner. “Is he still there?”
Briony nodded. “But not for long—my fear is helping to anchor him here, but it won’t last.”
Her statement was a slap in the face, but he ignored it, giving Matthew his attention. “Can you hear me?” he asked. Briony nodded again, letting him know the ghost understood.
He motioned for Matthew to come closer to him, and opened the closet on the far side of the room. After a few seconds of rooting around, he found the plastic bin where he kept all of his documentations from the time period when Matthew died.
Thumbing through the folders, he pulled one out labeled Little, Susan and Henry. “Once you died and couldn’t pay child support, your kids were taken out of Newman,” he said, referring to one of the more expensive private schools in town. “When I found out, Full Moon sponsored them through college—anonymously, of course. Susan went to McGehee, and Henry to Country Day. Both of them graduated from Tulane and have stable jobs and families here in town. Susan e-mailed me last year and told me she had a little boy. She named him Matthew, for you.”
As he spoke, he held up the paperwork to prove what he said was true. The last page he held up was a picture of an adult Susan, clutching a sleeping, bald baby to her chest. A tall man stood behind her, a protective arm wrapped around his wife and child.
Suddenly Briony rushed into his arms, wrapping him in a tight, dark chocolate-scented hug. “He says thank you,” she whispered. There were tears in her eyes. “You freed him, Sebastian. He’s gone, and I can tell it’s somewhere else, the place where he’s supposed to be.”
He smiled. The man had never been the kindest or friendliest, often snapping at other employees, but he’d been a hard worker, and had a soft spot for his family the size of Texas. That was why Sebastian had looked after his children—he felt like, as cross as Matthew often was, the man would have done the same for him had their roles been reversed.
“Why couldn’t he go check on his kids?” he asked Briony, assuming if the man had that ability, he would have passed on by now.
She smiled sadly. “He could at first, maybe for a few years or so, but after that it gets harder and harder for ghosts to choose where they haunt. At least, that’s the way I understand it.”
He hadn’t died here, but he’d spent forty hours a week at the brewery for ten years. Maybe that was the reason he’d haunted the brewery.
The talk of ghosts threatening to give him a headache, Sebastian nodded. Briony’s fear spiked again, and Sebastian pushed her from his arms as gently as he could. Silently, he went about gathering the papers he needed to leave the brewery. She helped, showing him how much she’d been paying attention to the numbers he crunched every day, the small tasks he completed to keep the beer and money flowing—not just for his pack, but for his employees.
Little did they know each of them had funds intended to benefit them or their families in times of crisis or tragedy.
Even Briony.
“You didn’t answer my question completely,” he growled the moment they were in his car.
“What? Oh.” Briony wrapped a corkscrew curl around her finger, unwound it and then wrapped it again. The innocuous action distracted Sebastian to the extent that he almost ran his front left wheel into a pothole the size of three tires stacked on top of each other.
Jerking the steering wheel barely in time to save his beloved car, he leveled a quick glare at the witch.
She blew out a slow breath and, for one crazy second, Sebastian thought glitter wafted from between her full, pink lips. To his surprise, her answering expression was uncharacteristically hard, her eyes becoming dull and darkened. “Can you handle what I’m about to tell you? I’m not in the business of misleading, especially when it comes to you, but I’m not telling you a thing unless I think you’re ready to hear it.”
He stiffened in his white leather seat. What could be that bad? He ran a business and was financially responsible for not only every one of his employees, but everyone in his pack as well. It was a burden he’d volunteered for, one he wouldn’t trade for anything, especially given the new role the pack was growing into. He could handle anything, which was why he handled so much for everyone he loved.
“I can handle it,” he said through gritted teeth. He turned a corner and parked a short distance from Briony’s house, on a street he usually avoided due to the enormous dumpster that often rolled into the narrow road, blocking access unless he wanted to get out of his car and push it back into place. The first time he’d come to her house she’d warned him about it, knowing how upset he’d be if the behemoth slammed into his car.
Today, it was gone.
She reached out and touched his cheek, pressing the length of her palm and fingers against his stubbled skin. “I can tell you,” she whispered. “Promise me this won’t make you feel responsible for me. You have enough weight on your shoulders without adding me to the list.”
“I promise,” he answered instantly, leaning into her touch. He already felt responsible for her—nothing was going to change that.
Briony moved her hand from his face to his hands. She tangled their fingers, but didn’t meet his gaze. Her eyes, filled with fear, were beyond him.
Sebastian couldn’t take it. He took her chin between his fingers and tilted Briony’s head until she was forced to look at him, to really see how he was reacting. She had to see how he felt about her—it seemed crazy, but he was fairly certain he’d do anything for her. Hell, he was about to endanger his pack to fulfill a bargain he’d made with the meddling witch.
Her eyes shifted between shades of brown, their streaks of green be
coming more and more apparent. “I’m meant to be your mate. I knew it the moment I met you.”
All of his breath left his body in a silent whoosh, as if she’d hit him in the chest. She may as well have. I have a mate? He was so used to being a convict, valued at less than nothing to his werewolf brethren, he’d hardly considered that he had a mate out there waiting for him.
For Briony to be his mate was…strange. Most werewolves found themselves paired with fellow weres, or maybe weak shapeshifters. But a witch? It was a rarity among the seldom occurrence of finding a mate at all. The chances of him finding a mate in a strong witch were nil, and the chances of this occurring with another member of his pack having mated to a banshee was impossible.
Without considering the pack’s elemental powers, which were extensive, the powers of a witch and banshee would put them on the map. They’d be unstoppable, which was why this never happened; it was nature’s way of ensuring a pack of werewolves didn’t rise and take over the world.
If his clan kept going in the direction they were headed, they could take over. Nothing would be able to touch them, a notion that was damned appealing. Exactly like Briony. Her hand was in her hair again, and she was pulling her lip between white teeth.
Sebastian didn’t ask if she was sure. He knew she wasn’t misleading him, could feel the rightness of her impossible, terrifying pronouncement. It was hard to breathe, and he found himself wishing he could wrap his future mate in some sort of magic bubble wrap, but tenderness welled inside him, spilling from a place he hadn’t known he possessed.
“You’re mine,” he told her simply, tugging her hand from her hair and brushing the strands back from her face with his fingers. “You were mine before you told me what we could be to each other.”
She visibly relaxed, and he’d been around Sophia enough to know the expression on a woman’s face when he’d said The Right Thing.
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