“I am.” Howl cocked an eyebrow in a haughty question that dared him not to answer. “You are?”
“Mr. Nádasdy will do.” A slyness honed his features like a blade. “You might have heard of my Black Hats.”
A slight uptick in her pulse betrayed her, despite her unflinching expression, and he pounced on the weakness.
“My son, Hiram, you know.” He gestured at his handiwork. “Did he fail to mention his last name?”
Aliases within aliases was how they moved through the world, how they protected themselves.
“I haven’t known him long,” she demurred. “I’m sure he was working up the courage to confess all to me.”
Father barked out a laugh then tipped the head of his cane toward her. “You’re a darling girl.”
“Thank you.” She scrunched up her face. “Let me guess—” She tapped her chin. “You regret you have to kill me?”
“As much as I hate to be predictable, yes. I smell the power in you. You’re a stronger light practitioner than I’ve met in decades. Remarkable how well your father kept his coven hidden. He must have been breeding white to white to strengthen the bloodlines for some time to produce you.”
“Yes, well, we have been hunted to the brink of extinction. A certain amount of duty to the species comes into play.”
“And yet, you kissed my son.”
Ba-bump, bump, ba-bump.
The knowledge we had been watched set her pulse skipping, but she ruthlessly calmed it.
“Your son is a handsome young man with terrible taste in young women. Of course I did.”
Again, Father cracked a smile, delighted with her, enjoying playing with his food.
“Howl,” Hiram rasped, blood trickling down his chin. “Run while you still can.”
“How can I rescue you if I’m not here?” She scoffed. “I thought you were cleverer than that.”
A thread of tension pulled Father’s shoulders tight as he registered the threat.
One white witch was nothing, but an entire coven lived here, strengthened by familial blood. That was a fight he would prefer to avoid. He would prevail, but at a cost, and Father forever played the odds.
“I see now that you have feelings for my son.” Father pretended to consider her while calculations ran behind his eyes. “For that, I will let you live. If you go now.”
“I’m happy to, but I won’t leave without Saint.”
“Howl, no.” An ache throbbed behind Hiram’s heart. “I’m not worth this.”
“Hiram is my son, my heir. I won’t allow him to play house with a white witch.”
“And I won’t allow you to break the part of him that let me live, let my family live.” She brought two fingers to her lips and whistled an ear-splitting call. “Saint is my friend, and friends protect one another.”
A chorus of howls rose from every corner, and yellow eyes gleamed gold in the dark as a dozen wolves padded into the light. Teeth bared, ears flat, they kept their heads low as they pushed in to surround Howl…and him.
All of a sudden, Hiram understood how the Winterbournes had held their ground for so long. They were allied with the pack. Not friendly or even friends, but truly allied against all threats to their ways of life. No wonder Phillip had set his cap at Howl. Theirs was an ideal political match for both families.
“All right.” Father chuckled aloud while his fury seethed into the air around him. “Have your fun.”
A white witch coven, he might gamble on. A warg pack, he would not.
“As soon as you leave,” Howl assured him, “we’ll all be jollier.”
“Come home when you’ve finished the job you were sent to do, son, and you will.” His gaze bored into Hiram’s. “Our kind always do.” He tipped his hat toward Howl. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Winterbourne. Enjoy my son.” His smile came slow. “While you can.”