Page 18 of Dark Flame

Her attempt at humour gnaws at my annoyance when all I want is to learn the intriguing witch’s secrets. “I’m serious.”

Her lips purse before she insists, “Not without something in return.”

“That’s not how captivity works.”

Her chin lifts. “It’s how bargaining does. We both want something.”

I’ll entertain this…for now, simply because I’m curious. “What is it you want?” I ask, knowing her answer could be one of a few things.

“Food and water. I’m hungry. If you’re planning on keeping me alive to sell my blood, I need to, you know, stay alive.”

No better than a human, but I suppose comparable to myself. While my body doesn’t feel hunger pains the same way, I would grow weak and get thirsty if without blood for too long. A weakened, starving witch would be easier to manage, but her point about staying alive is enough to have me agreeing.

“Very well then. Tell me about yourself.”

“You don’t know everything already? Getting the sense this was premeditated and you didn’t happen upon me at random.”

My mind wanders upstairs to the files I have on the Sinclair family, though they’re not very detailed—their coven shielded them well. “You’re right, but there are facts about you I’m unaware of.”

“Why would you want to?” Her lips pick up with her confused sneer, her nose scrunching.

My question exactly.“Humour me. You grew up around humans. Must have been difficult at school to hide your powers.” From what I know, witches and warlocks spend years mastering their control, and usually around one another so they don’t accidentally alert mortals to otherworldly beings.

She’s quiet for a moment, and her bottom teeth scrape over her lip, making the skin red with the flush of blood. I roll my own together when a ghost sensation of teeth along mine causes me to experience my first shiver in centuries.

“Wasn’t a concern. I was homeschooled.”

“Hm.” I suppose it’s safer that way. Without a coven for protection, her family was sitting ducks—a stupid phrase Cedric recently taught me. “Why don’t you live in Banff?”

The day word got out the remaining Sinclair, Emily, her husband, John, and their daughter moved across the country, it struck me as odd. But witches have done stranger things, so after a brief check-in to confirm their new location, I left well enough alone until the day I planned on coming for Harlow.

“Random. What’s in Banff?”

I scrutinize her expression, the genuine confusion, for a lie or joke. She’s unaware of what’s in Banff and her family’s history with the mountains? “The Highridge Coven.Yourcoven. The coven every Sinclair has been a part of.”

“Oh.” Her voice is small, hurt. “Them. I didn’t know their location. They kicked us out when I was a child.”

“How old were you?” It’s a test question because I know the answer. She was eight.

“Not sure.”

“Liar.”

Red flushes her cheeks. “I’m not lying.”

As an immortal, I’ve experienced countless lies over my years, but after a quick study of the witch, she truly isn’t. Her heart isn’t quicker than earlier. She remains still and without a nervous twitch. Her breathing is paced. She looks genuinely confounded. Interesting…

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m across the cell, crouching in front of her and studying her like mortals stare at poor animals caged up in zoos.

She presses back into the bars, her hands scrambling on the dirt. “Wh-what are you doing?”

Ignoring her, I study her eyes. The strips of different purple shades like a clematis flower prove to me she wasn’t lying. They’re too clear, honest. Innocent.

Innocent is a dangerous thing to be. It makes me hungry, hard, and eager to hunt.

Before my thoughts get away from me, I return to my spot across the cell. “You’re telling the truth.”

She rolls her eyes, snorting derisively. “Told you. Anyway, next question if you have more.”