A familiar brown wolf snapped her teeth inches from Father’s hand, but he didn’t flinch.
“You do have interesting taste in friends,” he murmured, staring down his nose at the wargs. “Pity you lack their teeth and claws.”
“From where I’m standing, I have teeth and claws enough.” She gestured to her allies. “Good day, sir.”
Meg and four others escorted Father from the stables. Two more dragged Penn, who had succumbed to blood loss or a concussion or both, into the streets for the constabulary to find.
With the threat removed, Howl sauntered over to Hiram.
“Black Hat.” Howl anchored her hands on her hips. “Truly?”
Hiram hung his head, hating she knew the truth, wishing he were worthy of her bravery.
Dainty fingers grasped his chin and urged his head up until he had no choice but to look at her.
“Why did you stay?” He searched her face. “He would have killed you.”
“For you, obviously.” She sighed dramatically. “I expected more gratitude, honestly, but I suppose your male pride has taken a dent.” Her gentle fingers began a tender exploration of his wounds. “Besides, I saw the moment your father comprehended what you had discovered here.”
Perhaps it was the ringing in his head that prevented him from thinking clearly, or maybe it was the touch of her skin on his. “What do you mean?”
“What happens to predators who overhunt their prey? They exhaust their food supply. Then the predator must turn its eyes toward its own. Black witch predation has never been as prevalent as their attacks on white witches. The reason isn’t that we’re easier prey, though we are, but my father is a doctor. He has many and varied patients. I’ve seen what happens when a black witch develops a taste for their own kind to the point of exclusivity.”
“They go mad,” Hiram said slowly. “The darkness spreads like cancer.”
“And white witches are the cure.” Her lips twitched. “There are so few of us left, and many are born as Papa was—with barely a wish in him, let alone a spell. Your father sensed my power. The idea I had relatives, that we were actively preserving our bloodlines and our magics, forced him to decide if he would prefer a heart today or dozens tomorrow as my family and I marry and have children, so forth and so on. I haven’t saved us, but I have bought us time.” She bounced a shoulder, eyes smiling. “The pack’s show of force didn’t hurt either.”
“He will return, one day.”
“And we’ll be ready.” She kissed his forehead. “All of us.”
“You don’t understand.” He squinted through the sweat and blood. “Father won’t simply let me go.”
“That makes two of us.” She trailed warm fingers across his cheek. “I’m keeping you, Saint.”
“Your father…”
Dr. Winterbourne would kill Hiram rather than allow his daughter to wed a monster, and Hiram couldn’t blame him.
“…is a shrewd man.” She pursed her lips. “He will see the value in protecting an asset such as yourself. You can educate us on black witches, on your father, on Black Hats. You can arm us with knowledge. And, should you decide you truly want to win Papa over, you could provide him with a fresh bloodline.”
Witches weren’t born light or dark practitioners. They might have a predisposition for one type of magic or another, but they were taught the craft. Any young witch was at the mercy of his or her mentors, who would raise a child to embrace their coven’s beliefs and worldview.
But a child of his…raised by white witches…
The odds were stacked against it. Before it was born, it was damned. There was a wrongness in him, one his father cultivated with pride, and Hiram worried any child he sired would be as cursed as he had been.
As much as he coveted Howl, he shook his head. “I can’t let you throw your life away on me.”
“You can’t stop me.” Her eyes sparkled. “No one could, if you were to, say, marry me.”
“Marry you?”
“Papa is already lining up suitors. I will be auctioned off eventually. Why not place your bid early?”
“You would marry me?”
“Almost, but not quite.” She pinched two fingers together. “You must be a tad more specific in your wording.”