Bait N' Witch (Brimstone Inc. #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,40

a witch whose main gift involved speaking to animals—something about the connection involved. All she knew was Kaios, an ancient and extremely powerful werewolf, had only to whisper a command and her body would follow while her mind remained horribly disconnected, unable to control her actions in any way.

Even if they hadn’t sanctioned some of the executions Rowan knew of, including the warlock Grey killed, the Syndicate would have her put down like a rabid beast when they found out about this. Maybe they should. Maybe she was defective.

But then, they might go after every Aneval. The threat posed by such a weakness would surely be deemed too great to risk. If they didn’t kill Anevals, they’d imprison them—to keep them safe, of course, but the result would be the same regardless of the intentions.

Wouldn’t they?

Grey was making her question her assumptions more and more. Not enough to let him find out about her yet, though.

Grey broke the silence she’d walked in on. “The Syndicate wanted me to use a truth spell on you.”

All four people in the room stiffened. “But you didn’t?” Castor asked.

Greyson dropped his hand. “No. But, with your permission, I’d like to cast a spell to review your memories of the event.”

“NO!” Rowan shouted. Surprise and gut-wrenching fear punching the denial from her.

A window behind Grey slammed open as a gust of wind assailed the house. She wasn’t sure who was more shocked by that window bursting open, her or Grey. Then, again, she knew what had caused it, and he didn’t. Unfortunately, the small interruption didn’t stop him from accessing their memories.

One by one, Leia, Marrok, Castor, and Tala each submitted to having Grey in their heads. They each tried to keep from showing her so he wouldn’t recognize her. However, Greyson Masters was one of the most powerful mages she’d encountered and had moved past their blocks and attempts with ease, seeing exactly what he needed to see.

Rowan, panicked and unable to think of a better way, drew on every single ounce of energy available to her in the spirit realm—an unusual amount. His house must be a portal for many dead. She even drew from the four powerful people before her as much as she could, separated from them by the veil of death.

In each memory involving her, she changed the shape of her face, the shade of her eyes. She couldn’t do much more and only prayed her actions had been enough. Finally, Grey had finished. With the last miniscule bit of energy she possessed, Rowan drifted outside and pushed herself back into the world of the living, a sensation akin to rubbing sandpaper over her skin.

A close thing. Getting out of the spirit realm after draining herself altering those memories in real time had been like moving through hot tar, leaving her so exhausted she almost didn’t have enough fight in her to do it.

But she made it out.

Mental note to only use that trick to observe next time. No magic within magic.

Then, with stumbling, plodding steps, she’d snuck around the house to the basement entrance.

Now the reflection staring back at her in the bathroom mirror with her mismatched eyes showed a woman with skin a sickly shade of gray, lips pinched and pale, and a dew of perspiration across her brow. For the second time in as many minutes, her stomach heaved, and she pitched over the toilet. Not that she had anything left to empty.

Dry heaving sucked more than vomiting.

A soft touch pressed up against her, and she lifted her head to find Nefti there to comfort. Only, as often happened around the cat, that strange shivery cold passed through her. Almost like an impetus to get her ass moving.

Right. She needed to finish getting dinner ready for Greyson’s guests—four people who could give her away with a simple wrong comment or look.

Forcing herself to move, she leaned over the sink, splashing cool water on her skin. What she really needed right now was sugar. Lots of it. She gave her pitiful reflection a grimace. She’d fix it, but, unfortunately, if she used more magic, she’d pass out. Nothing she could do now. As things stood, she was barely standing anyway.

“Rowan?” Grey’s voice drifted down the stairs. “Are you down there?”

She cracked the door. “Yes,” she croaked. Then she cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and tried again. “Yes.”

“I thought I heard you come in with the girls. Our meeting is over.”

“I’ll be right up,” she called back.

How