My hands ball into fists in my lap. "So, if Laurel's been orchestrating something for at least a decade: taking young witches from powerful families, hiding them, and eventually killing them, the question is why?"
"Why do bad people do anything? Money, power, or revenge."
"Well, she's already got money and power, and I'm not sure revenge is right either. Why else?"
Vale waves away my response. "Tell me more about the others at the clandestine meeting you interrupted. What else did you hear? Who was there?"
I tick them off on my fingers. "Marcus Lott, Jane, and Stuart, not sure of their last names. And two I didn't recognize. A woman, maybe mid-thirties, dark hair and eyes. And an older guy, with intense gray eyes and a salt and pepper beard."
"And you didn't know them?"
"No."
"Poppy, do you trust me enough to allow me to access your memory? Perhaps if I can identify them, we'll be closer to unraveling Laurel's secrets."
"Access how?"
"A simple memory walk."
Okay, that sounds sketchy and the opposite of something simple. "You mean, like a Vulcan mind meld?"
He stares at me, looking vacant. "You've lost me."
Vale is my lawyer. He’s also a centuries-old warlock. He has knowledge and powers I don’t know or comprehend and wants to use some of that to help me find my sisters.
I close my eyes and check in with my gut. Even when my memories were stolen and I didn't know who I was, my instincts served me well. They've always been my guiding force, and I've learned to trust them.
No mental warning bells are ringing.
"Okay, go for it. Will it hurt?"
He makes a face. "What sort of warlock do you take me for?"
His level of offense actually makes me chuckle. "All right. What do I need to do?"
He slides a gentle hand against my cheek and brushes his thumb over my temple. His hands are warm and surprisingly soft for a man of his considerable age. Then again, he doesn’t look a day over forty-five. "Simply pull the memory into your conscious mind and I'll take a quick peek."
Alrighty then.
I relax into his touch and let the memory resurface.
I remember shoving through the door to the coven meeting room… Laurel stiffens at the head of the table… Marcus sits to her right… Jane is standing, her palms braced against the table… Stuart sits rigid and sniveling beside the two strangers.
The woman has sharp cheekbones and calculating dark eyes.
The man has a salt-and-pepper beard and looks angry as hell to be seen.
Laurel's hand slams down on a leather-bound ledger, snapping it shut, equal parts fury and panic flashing across her face.
With that, Vale makes a thoughtful sound and drops his hand. "Very well, leave that with me and I'll do my best to discover their identities."
"You don't know them?"
He blinks at me. "I assure you, there are a great many people within our supernatural communities who are a stranger to me. Still, I'll do my best to suss them out. And in the meantime, we have arrived."
I look up and realize we've stopped on the side of a private country road. To our right, a red carpet marks a path away from the road and into a copse of trees. Through the trees, I make out the golden glow of lights twinkling between the shadows of swaying branches.
My heart takes off, fluttering inside my chest like a hummingbird’s wings.
