Bee dialed another number.
Linc drove as the flashes of memories of them together struck through his brain like lightning, burning him.
Bee said, “Clara Anne, don’t set the vampires on fire. They’re there to keep the werewolves at bay.” Clara Anne squeaked a question that Linc missed. “Yes. Werewolves. And vampires. The Master of the City swears to our security. We’ll be safe. I promise.” That call, too, ended.
“Don’t set the vampires on fire?” Lincoln asked, his tone both gentle and amused.
“Mmmm. She has a new working she’s been wanting to try. She calls it amaking vamps crispyworking. But there’s a time and a place for everything. Tonight isn’t it.”
“As always, Bedelia, you terrify me,” he said. She laughed again but he meant every word. She had broken him—heart, mind, and spirit—when she walked away. Or, rather, when he drove her away because he was a fool and had wanted her on his terms, not on hers. He thought the decades had healed that brokenness. He’d been wrong.
Bedelia
Linc pulled up to the old Coraville coven home. He stopped, put the SUV in park, and waited, looking out over the grounds and into the rearview. Bedelia followed his gaze behind them, where his people had stopped about a hundred yards back, parked, and got out. They were heavily armed with shotguns and swords. They did that vampire thing where they disappeared into the darkness like wraiths. It was frightening and beautiful and comforting all at once.
“Can you tell if Shania is home?” she asked, turning her eyes back to the house.
“One of my people has been here since I was notified. She’s sensed no one in that time. She did, however, tell me that someone had been here just before she arrived.”
Vampire noses. When you hunt humans for your dinner, you know when prey is around. Or not. Bedelia frowned, knowing he could smell her dismay.
“Clara Anne and Mable are here,” Linc said, not reacting to her scent change.
“Can you get inside and find something the witch has used, only the witch? Something personal? Hairbrush? Toothbrush?”
“Of course.” Linc lowered his window and said softly, “Mary. You heard.”
“On it,” a voice said out of the dark.
The window went back up. “What else?” he asked.
Bedelia pulled her shoulder bag close and reached inside. There was a lot of witch paraphernalia in it, but the lead-lined box from the closet wall took up the most room. She removed it. Placed it on the dash.
“Bee?” Lincoln asked softly. Clearly he knew what was inside.
“Once we have the personal item, we can call the witch. You will have to tackle her and put them on her. Fast.”
“Them?” he asked, the word nearly silky, making her say it.
“Null cuffs,” she groused. “No, they aren’t legal for me to have. No, the witch council didn’t authorize them. Yes, they’re dangerous for me to have. Will you put them on the witch when she shows or not?”
Linc took the box. “You know I will. Bee, I understand that Asheville is Everhart territory, but you seemed to know this place the moment I mentioned it. You seemed unsurprised she would come to this exact spot. You seem to know something about this place that I do not. How did you know that your enemy would be here?”
“This is a calling ground. Something like… like a myth of power. Like a treasure map. Or King Arthur’s round table. When witches move into the area, they always come here, looking for the Coraville witch circle. Looking for power to accomplish some aim.”
“So it wasn’t a coincidence that she came here, to a place you know about?”
That silky voice. It had once sent shivers up her spine.
“No. Not coincidence. The Coraville circle is buried and locked into a leyline. Most young witches come here on the full moon and try to find the circle, but they can’t find it in one night, on one try. It takes patience and weeks, which most witches don’t have. Mayhew simply had more resources than most. Sherentedthe place.”
“I see.”
Linc said nothing else and Bedelia pulled her cell and called her cohorts. She told each that the coast was clear. Moments later the witches pulled up behind Linc’s SUV. Bedelia got out, slung her bag and the ugly sweater over a shoulder, and met the two witches in the dark of the currently moonless night. The others each carried a blanket and a small bag, and each was wearing their amulet necklaces. When they reached one another, they took hands. Together they all said, “Well met and well come. Blessed be, a meeting of three.”
“How do we catch this bitch?” Mabs asked.
“You won’t like it. We call her. Lincoln Shaddock has a set of null cuffs,” Bedelia said, knowing Mable would object, but her old friend surprised her.
