Blaise nodded, a small smile curving his lips. “I like to go against the grain too, Caitlyn. I didn’t want to stay in the shadows like the other incubi. I wanted to have made something of myself by the time you summoned me. To have some worldly knowledge. To have a job and know how to cook and do taxes for you. So, I started off picking up shifts as a bouncer for a while. Then Ambrose and I decided to start our own security firm.”
“Ambrose?” I asked. “Is he another incubus?”
Blaise’s eyes widened, as if he’d only just realized he’d said something he shouldn’t have. After a moment, he nodded warily.
I shouldn’t have pushed. It was an unspoken rule that summoned incubi didn’t give much away about those left behindin the Shadow Realm. And with only Jen left from my age of witches, Ambrose must be the only one left from Blaise’s clan from that year. Theyhadto be fated for each other.
Still, like the greedy little gossip goblin I was, I couldn’t help myself.
“Is he kind?” I asked. “Ambrose, I mean.”
Blaise’s nostrils flared as he drew in a sharp breath. He nodded on the exhale, and when he spoke, his voice was soft. “He’s very kind,” he said, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “And incredibly patient.”
I nodded. “Good,” I said. “Jen needs someone kind and patient.”
“Who’s Jen?” Blaise asked. His voice had gone oddly small, like he already suspected the answer.
“Jen’s my cousin. She’s the last witch of our Samhain cycle who hasn’t summoned anyone yet. She’s been in mortal prison for almost a decade—she’s innocent, though,” I added quickly as his lips tightened. “And she should be released soon and—” I hesitated as his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you sure she’s the only one left who hasn’t done the summoning?” Blaise asked.
“That was born in my Samhain cycle? Yeah,” I said slowly, my confusion deepening. “Jen, Lex, and me were the last ones. And Lex accidentally summoned Lochran—” Blaise’s brow arched at the word accidentally. “Meddling sentient house,” I said. “It was a bit of a rocky start, but they’re incredibly happy together.”
“Good to hear,” Blaise said. Then, after a beat, “But there’s really only you and Jen left? No one else?”
“Well,” I said, tapping a finger against my chin, “there is Priscilla. But she doesn’t count.”
“Priscilla?” Blaise repeated. “Why doesn’t she count?”
My lips pressed together. How exactly did one explain how awful Priscilla Raisin was without Creep going berserk?
“So,” I said carefully, “Priscilla is kind of the reason I hired you in the first place.”
Blaise’s head tilted with curiosity.
“Okay,” I said, drawing out the word, “the short version is that Priscilla and I don’t see eye to eye. She’s not really part of the coven... I mean, she is, but she’s not.”
Blaise squeezed his eyes shut, like I’d just handed him a riddle to solve. “I think I might need the long version.”
“So,” I said, “do you know how coven magic works?”
Blaise shook his head.
“Okay. Every witch and warlock has their own magic, right? And there are loads of different branches under the witch umbrella—necromancers, hags, alchemists, et cetera. Most covens are made up of practitioners with the same kind of magic. It helps solidify the coven’s specialty.”
He nodded along.
“I’m guessing you’ve heard of the Pennyroyal Coven?”
“Been a loyal customer for the past nine years,” Blaise said easily.
“So you know they’re all alchemists who specialize in a very particular contraceptive potion. They can brew other things, of course, but that one comes easiest to them—as if their magic naturally leans toward it.”
I paused, then shrugged. “Our coven isn’t like that. We’re made up of witches who narrowly escaped the witch hunts in Europe centuries ago—survivors whose original covens were destroyed. They were a bit of a ragtag group with no shared specialty, just a hell of a lot of determination to stay alive.”
Blaise leaned in slightly, his interest unmistakable.
“That shared history—survival, protection, stubbornness—that’s what binds us. That’s what fuels our coven magic, eventhough we all practice different branches. You can think of coven magic a bit like a hive mind,” I said. “It binds witches and warlocks together and melds a bit of their magic with everyone else. That’s why the bargain the then head of the coven made with your clan of incubi for the Samhain summoning still echoes down the bloodlines. And it’s why, when one of the founding witches had a magical bond with a sentient house, that trait carried forward, and now we all get a sentient magic house.” Under my breath I muttered, “Whether we want it or not...”
