to? Someone who could point us in the right direction?”
A sad smile flitted across her face. “The old coven, the one your gran and I were a part of, has been mostly wiped out. The new coven that is spread out across the southern states is not inclined to discuss anything with me.”
I frowned. “They don’t come to you for advice or teaching?”
She shook her head. “The young ones think they know it all. That’s partly what makes Missy so damn mad all the time. She hates that she’s been written off as if she were nothing, when she is a whomping strong witch, almost as strong as your gran. Maybe put on your working gear this time, rather than jeans and a shirt that can be cut through like wet tissue paper.” She touched my shoulder where the ghost whip had cut through my shirt. I winced and nodded.
I hurried back to my room and pulled on my still dirty clothes, the smell of sweat and blood and fear lingering in the fibers. Kinkly was still asleep on my pillow, but Alan glanced at me from his perch on the bed. “What are you doing?”
“Going for a walk.”
He frowned. “I want to come.”
For some reason I shook my head. “Not now. I want to talk to Penny on my own.”
“I won’t stay here,” he snapped. “You could need me again.”
I looked him over, not sure that was why he wanted to be with me, and decided against him coming.
I stuffed my feet back into my boots. “Penny and I are going to be discussing menopause, and the way my flow has changed now that I’m older. You really want to take part in that?”
He sat down on the bed, avoiding eye contact. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“That’s what I thought.” I left the room, knowing he wouldn’t follow now. If anything made him squeamish, it was the thought of a woman’s cycle and everything that went along with it.
Because despite the fact that he had gone for help . . . he was Alan. And I really, really didn’t want him around me. Of all my companions here in New Orleans, he was the one I trusted the least.
Back downstairs, I found Penny waiting at the front door. She ushered me out first and then followed a half step behind me, letting my feet lead us.
“You went to NOLA before with your gran, years ago, after you passed by my place in Montgomery. I haven’t been here for a long time,” Penny commented as we walked down the driveway and onto the street, the feeling of magic sliding over my skin as we crossed the line between her home and the city proper. I found myself looking over my shoulder toward the empty spot that had been occupied by a robed figure the night before.
“I don’t remember much of it, to be honest,” I said. “Tell me more about this new coven that won’t talk to you.”
She held out a hand, and I let her lean on my forearm as we walked. “It’s a little more complicated than that. There’ve always been two southern covens, you see.” Penny kept her pace, staying slightly behind me even though she held my arm. I found myself taking the streets as if I knew where I was going. There was a flow of something underneath us, like an unseen river that streamed around my ankles and pulled me forward. It reminded me of the fae magic I’d felt before, so I let it coax and guide my tired feet.
“There is a Coven of Silver witches,” Penny continued, “and a Coven of Darkness. We balance each other, and within each coven there are gradients of good and bad. Missy’s in the silver coven, for example, but she definitely leans into the shades of gray.” She winked at me, and I snorted.
“And the others?” I prompted after she was silent for a few minutes. “What about this Coven of Darkness?”
“Same thing. Thirteen witches spread out across the south, two or three in a city, in order to keep from being noticed. Both the silver and the dark understood that living close together was more likely to have us found out, and so we agreed to stay separate except for when we had to meet up within our respective covens. It has been that way for years for the safety of all.”
It felt like there was more to this, so I prompted her again. “And?”