this thing before her was alive. But then, she could feel it—in her bones, in her blood—the magic vibrated through her.
There were more balconies below her and a set of stairs that wound around the outside of the tree’s enclosure. She leaned over the railing to see where the tree came out of the ground. Its trunk was thick enough that two people could circle it with their arms and still not meet. How long had this tree been here? Before the house, it seemed.
Charred leaves sprouted in clusters, most of them closest to her where the branches grew thin and whiplike. Everything about the tree, the bark, the knots, the leaves, was burnt black with soot. If only Zara could see this.
Giselle smiled. After tonight, she’d be able to bring Zara here. After tonight, this city would belong to them. This tree would belong to them. She reached up and stroked one of the branches. The unmistakable tingle of power shot through her fingertips, causing her to gasp out loud.
She snatched her hand back out of shock. Something about the tree had changed. Awakened. The air around it shifted and wavered with magic so strongly that Giselle had no doubts it would be plainly visible to anyone, witch or not. But more than that, the tree wanted her to touch it again.
It needed her to touch it again.
She placed her palm flat on the nearest section of trunk. The swell of power made her eyelids flutter and her heart palpitate. No, it was best if Zara didn’t know about the tree just yet. Zara might be a green witch, but the tree was speaking to Giselle.
Protect me.
“I will,” she whispered.
Keep me close to you.
She nodded and, intoxicated with the tree’s powerful voice, snapped off a cluster of leaves and started to stuff them into her purse.
Closer.
She hesitated. The leaves pulsated with life in her hand. No, these shouldn’t go in her purse. They needed to be on her. On her skin. She tucked them into her bra, against her heart.
She nodded. That felt right.
Yes.
Chapter Fifteen
Augustine nodded toward the car coming through the gate. “They’re home now.” He’d had hours of sleep and was in much better shape than before, but couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d missed something while he’d been out. One thing he knew without question—those hours of sleep hadn’t come naturally.
“Ah, very good,” Fenton said. “We’ll see if they know anything.”
“I have some personal business to discuss with them first.”
Fenton’s brows rose. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No. You can stay.” Augustine waited until Harlow and Lally were in the house and the kitchen door was shut before he said another word. “Which one of you did it?”
Harlow jumped as Lally flipped the light on. “You scared me.”
Lally frowned at him. “You know very well I did it, Augie.” She moved to the stove and turned on the burner under the kettle. “Mr. Welch, nice to see you again. Can I fix you a cup of tea?”
Fenton shook his head nervously. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”
Augustine stared at her. “Lally, you can’t just drug me and act like it’s no big deal.”
Harlow, who’d been standing motionless by the door, stepped in front of Lally. “She did it for your own good. So you could heal. Which I’m guessing is what happened because you look a lot better.”
He wasn’t going to be swayed that easily. “Something could have happened.”
“He’s right,” Fenton said. “You never know.”
Harlow made a face at Augustine. “Oh, the two of you. Augustine, stop being so grumpy. And Fenton, you sound like an overprotective parent. Get over it, okay? Lally did what she thought was best for you. You needed to sleep and heal more than you needed to be awake. Plus the house is warded. What could have happened?”
He closed his mouth. Lally was smiling. The two of them had ganged up on him. Not something he was used to. It didn’t bode well for the future, either. He shoved a hand through his hair. “Don’t ever do it again. Either of you.”
Harlow grabbed a bottle of cola from the fridge. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I thought it was the right call.” She pried the top off and sat at the table. “How are your ribs?”
He sat down beside her, frowning. When had she become so… sure of herself? He liked it. Mostly. “Much better. Still some pain—hey, where were you two?”
Harlow took a slug off the bottle. “We