The binding was a simple exchange of vows and blood, and it took all of five minutes.
Unfortunately for me, it drained every ounce of energy I had remaining to walk out of that trailer. Yet again, I had underestimated the cost of active magic versus the passive magic I used in the store at home would charge me. But given how protective Mr. Malone was of his missus, I wasn’t about to show weakness in front of predators of that caliber.
Back in the SUV, I melted into my seat and shut my eyes. “I hate putting the screws to people.”
“But you’re so good at it,” Clay teased to brighten my mood. “He’s an asset, and you secured his cooperation. The rest is the cost of doing business.”
“I know, I know.” I massaged my temples. “Toeing the company line and all that.”
“So, Mrs. Malone.” The SUV rocked as Clay settled in the back. “What’s up with her?”
“She’s a dragon.” Asa didn’t hesitate in his assessment. “Her powers are bound. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have stopped with self-immolation. She would have transformed and, most likely, eaten us to protect herself and her mate.”
“I was thinking phoenix,” I admitted, “but those cookies…”
“Dragons eat people,” he said simply. “Phoenixes do not.”
“She was going to feed us people cookies?” Clay made a gagging noise. “That’s so…wrong.”
“They were crying.” I remembered that now. “How is that possible?”
“Dragons have strange magic. I knew a dragon, years ago, who spelled his steaks to moo when he cut into them. It was quite the party trick when he invited guests over for a cookout.”
“Are you telling me,” I asked calmly, “she spelled her cookies to cry as she ate them?”
“As I said.” Asa rubbed his thumb on the steering wheel. “Strange magic.”
“Sounds more like strange, period,” Clay grumbled, still miffed. “People cookies.”
Unable to help myself, I teased, “People put bacon in cookies. That’s meat.”
“Chocolate, nuts, caramel, fruit—those belong in cookies.”
Sadly, as funny as it was to wind up Clay, his rant worsened my blossoming headache.
“We can go back to the hotel,” Asa offered, noticing my discomfort, “pick this up again tomorrow.”
Mid-diatribe, Clay snapped his mouth shut and shifted his focus from baked goods abuse onto me.
“The next suspect is only about thirty minutes away.” I flipped a hand. “Might as well hit him too.”
“Asa and I can handle this one alone.” Clay patted my head. “You can stay put.”
“Maybe.” An outright refusal would only spark an argument. “I’ll think about it.”
Thinking turned into another blasted nap that left me waking up alone in the SUV.
I had good reasons for giving up black magic, and it hadn’t mattered at home, but in the field?
For a minute, I was sorely tempted to fall back on old habits to keep up with my teammates.
And, if I was being truthful, to feed the monster chained in the basement of my mind.
Only the knowledge I had to look Colby in the eye when I got home kept me honest.
I’m a white witch. I’m a white witch. I’m a white witch.
Not wanting to interrupt any rapport the guys might have established with the suspect, I checked emails and otherwise entertained myself while staying put. But thirty dull minutes later, when they still weren’t back, I considered stretching my legs for a quick peek inside the rusting travel trailer that was the only structure for a few miles in any direction.