never encountered such formidable witch hunters before.”
She tapped her long manicured blood-red fingernails on her desk. Click, click, click. Sighing heavily, she looked away from Master Ackerman “I should hope they are more than the Magical Authority can deal with. I paid for the best. I thought my husband’s coven would do the job for me—I am wondering if I was mistaken in that assumption. My husband has brought much dishonor to my family and I need to rectify all his mistakes. I can’t do that without the Hyde witch. You either bring me the Hyde witch within the next fortnight or I will go to my coven and tell them how inadequate you are. You will be a laughingstock amongst the dark arts covens.”
“With respect, Mistress Rebecca, the members of your coven failed almost twenty years ago.”
Her panther hissed and moved to lunge at him. “No, Precious, you stay where you are.” Stretching languidly, the big black cat sat back on her silk-covered pillow and yawned loudly. “Go to sleep, my dearest pet. I am fine.” Obediently, her panther closed her eyes and soon her deep breathing filled the room.
“I know exactly how my coven failed me. That is why I hired your coven this time, Master Ackerman. That is why you can’t fail in this endeavor. To fail would be to put yourself back where my coven now stands… Your coven no doubt enjoys the high status you have at the moment. If the Black Death took back prominence as the most feared dark arts coven, it would be humiliating to say the least. Especially since you are now High Warlock within the Bloodbayne Coven, as my poor husband is serving his long prison sentence.”
“It’s partly your poor husband who is behind our failure.”
She arched her left eyebrow. “How do you mean?”
“His son was the reason for our epic failure. From our reports, Dallas dealt with three of them using a potion her cousin created. Oliver dealt with our insurance policy. He wrapped him all up.”
She rolled her eyes. “I fail to see why you are blaming my darling Raymond. He only sired the brat. The lot of you had him in your coven for many years just like you had that Forsythe freak married to Anya Ross in your coven as well. If I were you, Ackerman, I’d make sure I didn’t have any other white-magic pansies hiding in your ranks. Perhaps you need to do a clean sweep of your blasted coven,” she suggested silkily.
Master Ackerman bristled indignantly. His eyes lit with fire. If he knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t try any funny business on her. “Oliver White might have turned to the light side, but he is, and never will be, a magical pansy. In fact, he’s the greatest warlock of his age—as much as I hate to admit it, that warlock has more power in his pinky finger than most of us have in our entire bodies. I don’t blame Rex for falling in battle against him. I could not even stand against him, and in my day I was the best warlock in my league.”
“So we’ve established that the little shit is almost all-powerful. I always knew that. I should know, it was I who was transformed into a pig once because of him. Raymond couldn’t convince the boy to change me back for four weeks. He had to tell everyone I went away on holiday. If he had just disciplined Oliver the way I wanted him to by using the leather strap on him, I daresay we wouldn’t have had any hiccups in his rearing.
“But no, Raymond was proud of him when he transformed me into a pig. He told me it was a testament to his son’s formidable magical ability. I never should have married Raymond knowing that he had a child. I first thought he was the perfect man for me—he already had a little brat so he wouldn’t be up in my business about giving him one. Boy was I wrong—I had to compete with that little fucker for every morsel of attention from Raymond, and I suppose that’s why I resent him so much.”
“Yes, Raymond’s Achilles heel always was Oliver. It was well-known throughout the coven how compromised he was when it came to his son.”
“I’d put a price on Oliver’s head if I didn’t still fear the wrath of Raymond,” Rebecca mused.
“You are a good and faithful wife, and though I hate to admit