My phone began vibrating in my pocket. I focused on driving out of Nero’s neighborhood and away from redcap territory before I pulled into a strip mall and checked my messages.
Evie.We have a lead on the pleatix. Nelson gave it to me this morning, and I managed to trace it. You coming?
I wouldn’t have long before I needed to get back to open the bar.
I’m coming. Where?
Evie sent through directions, and I took a moment to rest my head on the steering wheel, my whole body shaking with a mix of exhaustion and leftover adrenaline.
Jess would be so proud of me right now. She’d constantly urged me to make it clear to Nero that while my father may have taken out a loan from him, he didn’t own me. If she were here, I’d have already been calling her, and she’d be cheering, planning a margarita night to celebrate.
She’d always told me my love of whiskey was an insult to our basic bitch existence.
“I miss you so much, Jess.”
Ihadto believe in souls. Because otherwise, Jess was gone for good. And I refused to believe that.
I lifted my head and started the car again. Time to find out who’d distracted Ilayda’s fae guards and why.
I inputted the address Evie had sent me.
The witch lived in Old West Durham, close enough to Trinity Park and Brightleaf to not draw attention to a witch living alone, yet not deep in witch territory where white witches would monitor a lone black witch’s every move.
I leaned against my car next to Evie and studied the house—a small light-blue cottage with an overgrown lawn. “How’d you find it?”
Evie smiled and filled me in.
The black witch had been smart enough not to put her own name on the lease, but Evie had talked to Selina, who had used her power—managing to give Evie a general neighborhood. By then, it was simply a matter of handing the information to Steve, Samael’s computer nerd and overall tech whiz. He’d done his own brand of magic by figuring out who’d moved in and out of the neighborhood and how recently.
“Are you okay?” Evie’s voice jolted me from my thoughts, and I glanced at her.
Her gaze was steady on my face.
I nodded. “Fine.”
She stared at me some more, and I sighed. “I used too much telekinesis, and I’m tired. I’m also having one of those days when I just really miss Jess.”
Her eyes filled with sympathy, along with knowledge of her own. “I get it. Believe me, I get it. Tell me something about her. Something you loved.”
I took a shaky breath. “Jess was one of the few witches who was actually friends with me since I refused to join a coven. Oh, she kept trying to convince me to go talk to Gemma, but she never looked down on me. Some of the witches… Let’s just say they’re happy to drink at my bar, but they take my dislike of covens as a personal attack. Jess never made me feel like an outcast or a failure. She was the first to stick up for me, every time.”
I attempted a smile. “Talking about her… It helps. Thanks.”
Evie gazed into the distance. “I have to believe that as long as we talk about them, as long as we remember them, they’re still here with us.”
I wasn’t the only one who’d lost their best friend when most of Evie’s coven had been murdered. Brooke had been Evie’s rock, and she’d been brutally slaughtered because the bad guys thought she was Evie. I couldn’t even imagine the guilt and self-blame Evie wrestled with every day. And she’d also lost people who’d been her family since she was a little girl.
“Sorry. I, uh, didn’t mean to bring up the bad stuff.”
She shrugged. “The bad stuff is always there. Ignoring it doesn’t help. Believe me.”
Kyla strode toward us, her movements casually graceful. “Ignoring what doesn’t help?”
“The bad stuff.”
She simply nodded, and I smiled. Kyla had bad stuff of her own, but she didn’t let it slow her down. “Okay,” I said. “So, what do we know about this witch?”
“Lydia Miller,” Evie announced. I frowned. Something about that name felt familiar. “She’s a black witch,” Evie said. “Ascaryblack witch. And she’s a descendant of the McCormick coven.”
