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Jarrad just about vaulted the kitchen bench in his haste to help.

She whispered the words of the targeting spell as she poured. When the saucepan was emptied then cleaned, the filled bottles safely stoppered then stored on the top shelf of the pantry (she’d have to find a safer spot later), Tabitha turned to Jarrad.

“You always leave your door open for the Inquisition to pay a visit?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

Tabitha ground her teeth together, not willing to start a fight before she’d even had the chance to talk to him. Even if it seemed he was.

“I figured if the Inquisition made it past my wards, the contents of that pot were enough to burn an army out of existence.”

Jarrad’s eyes widened as he took a step away from the pantry. It was ridiculously gratifying to see the bossy male wary of her work.

“Don’t worry, you’d have to smash the bottle to activate it. The effects are very localised. It’s been targeted to anyone meaning harm to the bearer. Even if they all dropped, the worst that would happen would be a small fire, easily put out.”

“I thought witches had an affinity with one element,” Jarrad said, curiosity overcoming wariness. “But I’ve seen you wield water and now potion making with fire.”

“Most of us can weave small amounts of all elements. You’re right about us having an affinity for one, but potion work is the best way to harness elements not our own.”

“So I guess the kids were lucky your element was water.”

Her major element, yes, but she was strong enough to manipulate the others without spells, too. She didn’t tell him that though.

“They were lucky. I was lucky.”

The heat and fear of the fire chased her through the day. It terrified her how close she’d come to losing everything. Tabitha had been convinced Luna had already been swallowed by the inferno. Tears pricked at her eyes. She tossed her head back and blinked them away before the waterworks started.

Jarrad shifted uncomfortably on the bench stool he’d appropriated. His fingers twitched, as though wrestling with his head to get him to touch. She almost smiled.

“I’d say I’m sorry for bringing it up, but that’s part of what I have to talk to you about.”

Her heart dropped. He’d heard something about the Inquisition. She could feel it in her bones.

“Best pull the band-aid off quickly then,” she said, bracing herself.

He hesitated. “Some out-of-town hunters filmed the incident. Took pictures. One of them had links to the Inquisition.”

On some level she’d known. Her gut told her something was wrong, but she’d refused to listen. She’d even heard the telltale click of a camera herself, though she’d convinced herself it was a local and Jarrad would handle it.

Tabitha didn’t bother with questions. She went straight for the hall cupboard and the emergency bags. Jarrad followed.

“What are you doing?” His voice rumbled low with anxiety, his wolf close to the surface.

Tabitha didn’t have time for his wolf shit. The Inquisition was on its way and she had to get Tabitha to safety. Anger stirred in her belly.

“I’m getting out of here, that’s what,” she snarled. “I would have left this morning if I’d known, except now I’ve wasted a day. We could be safely in Carnarben already.” Tabitha should have known better than to trust a wolf.

She grabbed a few bottles of the potion from the pantry, all that would fit in the side pocket of her bag.

“Tabitha, wait!” Jarrad was suddenly in front of her, blocking the door.

“Move,” she said slowly, clearly. With deadly intent. She may be attracted to the man, but he was an obstacle to her daughter’s safety. One that could easily be removed.

“I will… if you give me one minute to explain why you should stay.”

He hadn’t touched her, but such desperation filled his eyes that the fire in her belly cooled. She hesitated, then gave him a nod, but didn’t put either bag down.

He had one minute.

Jarrad exhaled in relief. “I want you to move to the pack house.”