“Buongiorno,” Mateo said.
“Um, hi,” Annie said, pulled a bottle off the shelf, and shut the door in his face.
She spared only one glance at Cat as she thrust a bottle of molasses at her.
“What is that?”
“Closest color I could find.”
Cat swiped it and twisted it open as Annie as the honey bear emptied. Cat started filling it with molasses, but it was going too slowly. She poured water into the molasses jug and shook it before trying again. When she put the water on full blast to clean out the sink, the alarm stopped.
She froze, looking between the door and the food pantry when Niamh shouted, “Maintain battle stations! He might come back for another round.”
“Get going!” Annie shouted.
Cat shook her head. “Bea’s on the roof.”
Annie sighed. “Give me a minute and a half, and then he has to run like hell.”
When she clattered away, Cat went to the pantry and wrenched it open.
“Buongiorno,” he said in the same voice.
“What, you say that to every witch who opens your pantry?”
His grin was quick and devastating.
“You have about forty-five seconds before you have to bolt out that back door and run like hell.”
He didn’t argue or even say a word; he just pulled her into his arms and kissed her like they would never see each other again. She lost track of time and gravity, and so was immediately devastated when he pushed her away and headed for the back door.
“Arrivederci,” he said with a final grin before he seemed to fly off the back porch.
The woods were always close in Silver Spring; he vaulted the back fence and disappeared.
It was the last time he would kiss her.
She felt as discombobulated as she did when he brushed her hair, but fortunately, looking wind-swept and overwhelmed fit the moment as the women filtered back into the kitchen.
Niamh was lecturing Annie. “We’re going to go over the entire plan again. I said, ‘Man your battle stations.’ And yet you went to join the lookout post in the attic, which Bea already had, leaving our back door undefended. We have a place for everyone in every configuration of witches.”
“Yes, Mom,” Annie said, looking penitent. Niamh squinted at her because Annie’s look was common throughout high school when she was sneaking out and getting into huge amounts of trouble while looking like an angel.
Niamh spun to Cat. “Don’t think you’re off the hook. Scrying for information? In the middle of a battle?”
Cat opened her mouth and then closed it. For the life of her, she could not remember where her assigned role was on a five-man team. Scrying was her job if they had enough witches, but apparently, four weren’t enough, so that left her with…which job?
“You were supposed to take the tower,” Bea said quietly.
Cat sighed. Oh yeah. They put the divination witch as far away from the action as possible. Bea was a healer. She should’ve been on the ground floor if anything went down.
“I’m so sorry!” she said.
“Well, they didn’t get in this time,” Niamh said.
“But you should’ve seen it downtown,” Siobhan said with something like awe and disgust in her voice. “This wolf had a scar that snaked from its snout all the way down its back. You could see the skin.”
“What must it have taken to wound a shifter like that?” Bea mused.
