“Abigail White,” he said again. “If you hear me, respond.”
Nothing.
“Let’s talk,” he said gruffly.
Still nothing. No note. No conversation.
Trevor triedruhi.
White,he growled mentally.Respond.
Still nothing.
Trevor grabbed up a chair in frustration, slamming it against the wooden floor, cracking and splintering one of the legs. “Witch!” he shouted. “If I find out you’re spying on us—”
Trevor dropped the chair and muscled himself under control. He called Graeme inruhi.
Graeme.
Aye.
Graeme’s mental response was loud and strong, showing he was somewhere on the property.
I want your take on the situation.
I’ve been waiting for ye to call on me. I’ll be taking a walk through yer house—alone.
Got it. I’m out the front door now.
Graeme Kynock was a Scottishdragen, over 900 years old, and smart as shit. He lived on the property, deep in the forest, with his mate and their young.
Trevor went out front, onto the porch and down the steps into the driveway. Graeme would enter through the back. Outside it was overcast and windy. The sun was high in the sky, peeking through wispy, fast-moving clouds. It was September but it felt like November: cold and dreary at 1 o’clock in the afternoon. Several cars lined the long driveway, parked on the grass and between trees, like always. Voices from behind the house carried to him. Ten adults lived on the property full-time, and several others part-time. Since the first One True Mate, his very own Ella, had been found almost a year ago, the place had become a makeshift second police station. Much of their work was done in the driveway or in the main house, in one of the cabins behind, or on the various picnic tables set around the yard and in the forest beyond.
Trevor stared at his house, imagining he heard his mate’s distant laughter somewhere in the back of the property. His house was compromised and that was unacceptable. His mate lived here. His young, too. He stood helpless in his own driveway, stony and still, waiting for Graeme’s assessment.
After a few minutes, Graeme came outside, his face serious. He was a tall male with a dark crew cut and no facial hair, broad through the chest, immaculately dressed in business casual slacks and shirt. He met Trevor in the driveway and spoke in a rolling Scottish brogue.
“I cannae put yer mind at ease. I only say female augurs cannae be trusted,” Graeme said.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Graeme took a moment, considering, then said, “Power follows its own rules. Augurs’re masterful at knowing these rules—that’s what makes them augurs. Female augurs markedlybend those rules to their personal will at any chance—I’ve never known one who was above it.” He motioned to the house. “Trent lay dying in yonder bed. Abigail White gave instant an’ correct advice, saving him. You think uninvited, but I say invited. Someone, in an utter panic, mentally called the augur for help—whether they kent it or not. Mayhap more than one called on her. As ye suspect, once she was invited into the situation she was invited into yer house. Once she was invited into yer house…” Graeme looked at the house, his face set in hard lines. “Augurs have ways of…extendingsuch an invitation, an’ ways of avoiding detection—I cannae be sure if yer house is free of her.”
“When you say ‘augur’, do you mean ‘witch’?”
Graeme nodded his head slightly. “Near enough.”
“Who called her?”
Graeme shook his head. He crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance. “Several could have. Conri, maybe. He’sbearen,and they have ways of calling on White. Crew, maybe, because he’s got history with her. He knows what she’s capable of, and she owes him—in a way. He saved one of her own—the little girl Paisley White. Harlan is also possible. Harlan more than any otherwolvenknows what White can do. He hates her, but he’s also beholden to her. The bond is strong.”
Trevor’s blood boiled over. He was going to find these males and wring—
“Yer own mate, Ella, possibly.”
A record scratch screeched through Trevor’s mind, stopping his thoughts short. “Ella?”
“Aye, Ella.” Graeme ticked reasons off with on his fingers. “She’s strong inruhi.She’s powerful. This is her house as well as yers. She dinnae share yer contempt of White orfoxen. She knows White has helped before. She cares strongly about Trent. If someone said White could help, Ella might’ve calledon her—might’ve invited her in—without knowing what she was doing.”
