Page 89 of Dragon’s Rebel

“Right.”

She disconnected the phone. There was a short silence. Then Thorne said, “Tempest can see the future?”

“Sometimes.”

“And she can change it?”

“Sometimes.”

“And you didn’t think this would be useful for us to know?”

“She’s scared of people knowing. She’s been locked up in a mental hospital because of it. And until magic started happening all around us, even I wasn’t sure it was real. It’s not like she can do it at will. It just comes.”

Thorne bit his lips. “And now it says something is coming. At the lair. Damn, I wish I could be in two places at once.”

“You and me both. So let’s find this damn Seal and then get back to the lair as quick as we can.”

In answer, Thorne pulled over to the side of the road. “Switch,” he said, and got out of the SUV.

Rebel slid over to the driver’s seat, and Thorne opened the back hatch, grabbed a laptop, and climbed into the passenger seat.

“It’s a damn good thing I got the special edition SUV and upgraded up the wireless hotspot.”

And that her sexy beast was one of the best hackers on the planet. Rebel pulled out into the road and began driving.

Rebel tapped her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel while Thorne launched search after search, called up web page after web page.

“Okay, here’s something,” he said finally. “Some kind of ‘history of witchcraft’ wiki.

The Coven of the Waves: A matriarchal coven of witches led by the Wilder family, it claims to go back in an unbroken line for at least a thousand years. As far back as records can be found, there was a Wilder witch at the head of the coven, until sixteen years ago when the death of Silvanna Wilder at the age of eighty-four left the leadership of the coven vacant.

Since that time, the coven is rumored to have abandoned their secret enclave in Oregon and gone underground. Rumors abound about the annihilation of the matrilineal line, with Silvanna’s daughter and granddaughter meeting untimely and suspicious deaths.

There is considerable speculation that an heir may survive; however, if she exists, she would be considered by many to be unfit for leadership because of tainted bloodlines.

Thorne stopped reading. “Tainted bloodlines? What the hell?”

Memories of that night intruded again. “That’s what they were shouting at my parents,” Rebel said. “That night. They called us abominations—me and Tempest. Tainted.”

Thorne stopped typing. “Why?”

“Like I know?”

He rested his hand on her arm for a moment before going back to typing. Just that small touch felt comforting. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted small gestures like that until she had them.

Thorne mused, “Some kind of forbidden mating? Is that why they were living in hiding?” He typed ‘forbidden love’ and ‘witches’ and ‘Wilder’ into his search parameters.

“I am not a fucking abomination. And neither is my sister.”

“Hey.” He stopped typing again, reaching over to cup her cheek. “Nobody on this side of the car is saying that. As someone who was called an abomination for centuries, I can attest that it sucks.”

She sighed. “Sorry.” He patted her thigh and went back to his computer. “So can you find out anything about why someone would say that?”

“I’m looking. Damn, this is so much easier now that I have names to work with.”

“Send a thank-you note to Mr. McHenry. And our Nigerian princes at Farnham and Peabody.”

“I’ll leave them the thank-you note when I hack into their files.” He tapped a few more keys. Then, “Are you serious?”