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I hadn’t had enough time with him.

“What do you mean, your kind?” I asked in a rush. It seemed like the most important question to get an answer for.

Rain jerked up the right sleeve on his trench coat, exposing a pale, muscular forearm. He was stronger than he looked. Black ink covered his skin. I wasn’t close enough to make out the designs of the tattoos.

“My family is an old one,” he told me in a hushed voice. “We were once responsible for, and in charge of, hunting down and punishing rogue witches. It’s a dangerous job, and we took honor in doing it. After the trials, the Council would no longer recognize our authority, and they shut us out. We returned the favor.”

He pulled his sleeve back down and said, “But that is a story for another time seeing as we no longer have any to spare.”

He was right, damn it.

A shiver ran down my spine. I had never once heard any mention of authority outside of the Council’s before, and I had never heard of people hunting down rogue witches. To my knowledge, there had never been such a thing as rogue witches.

“Do you intend to harm her in any way?” I asked in a quiet voice. I didn’t want to do this, but I had to anyway. For Ariel.

He gave me a dirty look. “Of course not. She’s my daughter and I love her. I would rather die than hurt her.”

He made it sound like a vow, and, strangely enough, I believed him.

Against my better judgment, I gave him the address to Dash’s cottage as the dream faded away. I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me or not, but I hoped like hell I wouldn’t regret it.

It wasn’t until I sat up on my bed and went over the conversation in my head that I realized he knew where Marcus lived, which meant he knew where I lived.

It was odd, but I wasn’t worried about him hurting Ariel anymore.

Chapter Three

I put the key in the ignition of my Range Rover, more than ready to get the heck out of here. The day wasn’t even half way over, but I was more than over it. Meeting with Adrian always took something out of me, but this was different; this was more. I wanted to put this whole mess with Chucky behind me, but it kept coming back up and being shoved into my face, over and over again.

At this rate, I was never going to get over it, and neither were the guys. The guys were what really mattered to me. Though, if I’m being honest, they never brought it up, not in front of me.

I shook it off and focused on turning the key over in the ignition. I had to get out of here. I wasn’t sure I’d be back tomorrow for my visit with Adrian.

The empty house next door loomed large and lonely out my window, reminding me of what could have been if different people had lived in it, and what would never be.

A white “sold” sign hung down off of the For-Sale sign at the end of the driveway. I had no idea who’d purchased Mr. Cole’s house, and hadn’t thought to ask. Now I was curious, and I wanted to know who would be living there. Who would be moving their things into my bedroom, making the space their own? All traces I had once lived there were gone for good now.

And wasn’t that just the most depressing thought ever?

The house seemed too pretty to have had so many bad things take place inside of it.

I put the Rover in reverse and pressed my foot down lightly on the gas pedal as my eyes moved to the rear-view mirror. Immediately, I removed my foot from the gas pedal and slammed it down on the brake.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered under my breath. “What the eff are you doing?”

It was good I didn’t expect an answer, because I didn’t get one. I didn’t get one because the person I was talking to wasn’t in the car with me, but instead standing in the driveway six feet behind my Range Rover. He hadn’t been there when I’d walked from the house to my vehicle.

“Jesus, Tyson,” I muttered to myself under my breath. “I could have run your crazy ass over.”

Which would have made me one hell of a crappy driver if I’d have mowed him down. I shook my head in disgust. Wasn’t I one already for not checking the mirror before hitting the gas?

Jeez, Ariel, get it together.

Tyson strolled up to the Rover as he shook his head, his shoulder length dark hair for once not flying around his face because he’d pulled it back into one of those man buns people feel so strongly about. I had never seen him with his hair pulled back before. It looked good on him either way, but I would hate for him to ever cut it. I loved Tyson’s hair.

The passenger door opened, and he jumped in without an invitation. Not that he needed one, Tyson was always welcome no matter what I was doing.

Today, he wore a black t-shirt that told the world he was a fan of Guns N Roses and dark, well-worn, blue jeans. His feet were encased in black combat boots. A wide, black leather band was wrapped around his left wrist, held together by round, silver snaps. A black cord hung around his neck, a silver pentagram dangling off of it. The Salt and Pepper twins had similar necklaces that they wore on the daily. Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember a time where I’d seen either of the twins without the silver pentagram around their necks.