Gemma’s coven had already moved out of the hotel they’d been staying in after the fire. Now they were living in a light gray triplex with brick columns on Lamond Avenue—just a couple of streets over from the home that had burned to the ground.
It didn’t surprise me at all. Gemma would expect her coven to walk past their old home–where so many of them had died–without showing a hint of emotion.
Kyla parked beneath an oak tree and turned to me. “You want me to wait here?”
I pondered it. Gemma certainly wouldn’t appreciate me bringing a wolf into witch territory. “She won’t be in a good mood when she finds out what I want, but there’s no need to piss her off even more.”
“No worries.” She opened her door, pushed her seat back, and closed her eyes. “I’m taking a nap.”
I shook my head at her and got out of the car. I rolled my shoulders, attempting to work out some of the tension, and then I put my game face on. If Gemma sniffed out a hint of weakness, it was all over.
She opened the door herself, eyeing me as I walked up the stairs to the wide porch.
“What are you doing here?”
“Hello to you too. I need to talk to you.”
She sniffed and turned, leaving the door open. I rolled my eyes and strode after her, closing the door behind me.
It was quiet at this time of the day. Most of the witches had outside jobs, bringing money into the coven. Gemma hobbled into the small sunroom and sat in an armchair that looked remarkably similar to the one she’d loved in her old house. My chest ached and I shrugged it off.
No point dragging this out. “When I brought Caroline back to you, you said you owed me a debt.”
Gemma sucked on a tooth, a scowl darkening her face. “And why am I not surprised that you’re here to collect so soon?”
“I’m just resourceful that way.” I sent her a sunny smile, and a hint of reluctant humor glittered in her eyes.
“What is it you want?”
“I want one of Caroline’s bones. A fingerbone should do it.”
All humor fled, and instant denial took its place. “Witch bones are sacred.”
I sighed. “You owe me the debt, Gemma.”
“Pick something else.”
“This is what I want.”
She stared at me. “You ask too much.”
I waited her out. It wasn’t too much—especially for the discovery of the betrayal of one of their own. She knew it and I knew it.
“Give it to her,” a hoarse voice said behind me. I turned, meeting Gail’s eyes. She nodded at me, and her gaze drifted past me to Gemma. “It’s only right.”
Gemma’s lips thinned, but she got to her feet. “Wait here,” she told me.
Gail walked to the window, gazing out at the street. “We had a better view at the old house,” she said.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I stayed silent. She let out a rough laugh.
“Have you finally learned to control that tongue of yours?”
“Nope. Just making allowances for your grief.”
“It doesn’t seem right to grieve for someone who caused so much pain. My grief is better spent on her victims.”
I sighed. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that grief doesn’t care about logic. And the more you try to suppress it, the more it rises up at the worst possible moments. Until it would take over your entire fucking life if you let it. Feeling guilty because you miss the person you loved—even if you only loved a single part of them—that serves no one.”
