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4

CALLIE

I step out of the woods with my hand in Will's, trying to figure out how to free it. As fun as our sexual encounter in the woods and under the pier had been, I don't want to flaunt anything in front of Hank or James. All the guys have been so nice to me. I can't let a moment of passion ruin my friendship with them.

Hank helps by pulling me into his arms for a hug, which I gladly return. I have to let go of Will's hand to do so. "I'm so glad to see you," he says. "Where'd you find her?" He looks over my head at Will.

"Hiding under the pier," Will replies. "Let's get inside. It's dark, but we're still exposed."

"We can't stay here, anyway," Hank says as he curls his arm around my shoulder and turns to walk me into the firehouse. "They've been by twice."

"What?" Will stiffens beside me. The light shining from the windows is enough for me to see the panicked look on his face.

"When?" I whisper, looking around. “Who?” Did he mean the people from the castle or the old woman who had made me so panicked I’d shifted and run away?

"Some of the king’s witches. It's been about a half-hour since the last time. They walked up to the open bay doors and stared inside. They didn't come in or say anything."

My breathing intensifies as I think about what that means. They’re after Will, surely, but I was at the castle too. They probably know who I am by now and where I live.

"What did you two do when they came?" Will opens the back door to the station, and Hank stands back so I can walk in first.

"Nothing. We stared back at them. They were either trying to distract us from someone else looking around inside, or they were using a magical means of seeing if you or Callie were here."

No way I'm staying in the firehouse. Not even for a minute. I stop inside the door. "Do they know I live next door?" I ask, debating my options. There aren’t many.

"No, we don't think so," Hank replies. "Are you coming in?"

Shaking my head, I back out the doorway and onto the back porch. "Can you do a witchy thing to see if anyone is nearby?" I ask as I look around. "Is that possible?" I can't see shit out here, so I don't know why I'm bothering to try to see if anyone could be hiding in the woods like Will and I had.

I shiver as I remember exactly what we did in those woods. I'll never be able to look at a small forest or a pier the same way again.

"Yes," Hank says from behind me. "James and I already did. That's how I knew you were out here. I couldn't tell exactly where, but I knew you were within a reasonable distance. Nobody else is around right now."

"Couldn't they block themselves?" Will asks as he takes my hand again. "Wherever you want to go, I'm with you," he says tenderly.

"I want to go home." Since Hank said the coast is clear, I head toward my house. My cat twitches in approval inside me. She wants rest, too. “I want answers, about the king, and the old woman outside the portal to the castle. And a nap. And maybe food.”

"Hang on," Hank says. "Let me tell James, and we'll be right there."

I keep walking.

"Meet us over there," Will says. He doesn't let go of my hand as I head across the backyard.

"First thing is a shower," I murmur as we climb my front porch steps.

I stop and move a piece of fake wood inside the porch railing. A key to the front door is hidden underneath. Hiding a key outside had been one of my first chores after moving in. Too often in the past, my cat has gotten outside and left me locked out of the house as a naked human. As soon as the door is unlocked, I replace it and go inside.

Stopping dead, I look around my foyer. The doors to the living room, dining room, bathroom, and kitchen are all visible from the entryway, and they're all closed. Which is not how I left it. My heart races.

"Who's been here?" I asked, looking at Will.

Shit. If they've found me, some witch or wizard could be hiding behind any of those doors.

Will doesn't reply, but he tugs me out the door again. I look back at him, and the light from my entryway illuminates his face. He's got his free hand held up to his face with one finger over his lips in the universal hush gesture.

"What's going on?" Hank whispers behind us, making me jump out of my skin. I gasp and yank my hand from Will's, falling into a defensive crouch. In the next instant, I relax as I process that it's Hank, and he's not here to hurt me.

"All my doors are closed, and I know I didn't leave them that way," I whisper.

"Oh," he says, laughing. "Sorry. I did that. I wasn't sure if you came back here in cat form or not, so I searched the house and shut the door to all the rooms I was sure I'd checked and knew your kitty wasn't in."

I nod, relieved, then stand once more. "Thank goodness. Come on, let's get in before anyone sees us."

James walks up before we shut the door and slips inside with us. He looks at the doorknob and concentrates.

"What are you doing?" I ask, watching him focus on the doorknob.

"A simple locking spell. It won't keep anyone out for long but might give us a few seconds if we need it." He turns to the rest of us. "What are we all doing standing here?"

It was all too much. It’s been the longest day of my life, I’m pretty sure. I need a time-out.

"I don't care what you three do," I reply. "I'm taking a shower."

Stomping up the stairs, I call back down. "You can come up, and we can talk about what the hell is going on if you want. I'm not shy." I don't have to walk around naked in front of them, but I'm determined to shower and put on my own clothes. That doesn't mean we don't need to urgently discuss our next move.

When I reach the top, I look back down at them, and they seem to be having a silent conversation. Hank grins and starts up the stairs, but then Will launches after him.

I stand with my mouth hanging open, watching as they wrestle their way up the stairs.

All sex appeal I held for either of them disappears as they throw elbows in each other's throats, try to trip each other, body bump, and generally do everything they can to injure the other or at least knock each other back down.

Stepping back a few paces, I give them room to land at the top of the stairs.

Hank crows in triumph when he makes it first. "Beatcha!"

Will gives him a dark look. "Once. I usually win."

"Are you two quite done?" James asks as he circles them and joins me at the bathroom door. "You're offending our host."

He puts one finger under my jaw and pushes it closed. "It's not that they're immature," he explains. "I've studied their behavior for several years now, and they're quite good men. Honorable and loyal."

I glance at Will and Hank and see them staring at James in shock. He's thrown them for a loop.

My gaze returns to James as he continues. "They've been friends for so long, I don't believe they'll ever outgrow..." He trails off as he waves his arms at them. " That. Whatever it is that makes them fight their way up the stairs, time themselves on drills, and generally be in deep, annoying, constant competition."

Will huffs while Hank cocks his head at James. "I never knew you thought so highly of us," Hank says.

"He just insulted us totally, and your takeaway is how highly he thinks of us?" Will asked, giving Hank a look of consternation.

"Okay," I say.

Turning on my heel, I enter my bathroom and shut the door almost all the way. Grabbing my toothbrush, I begin vigorously cleaning my teeth as I turn on the water. "As soon as I get in and close the curtain, you can open the door so we can talk."

I want to hear about the old woman.

Hurrying, I strip off Will’s shirt and stand naked by the shower as I finish brushing my teeth and wait for the water to warm. As soon as it's not offensively cold, I rinse my toothbrush and put it in the holder, then hop under the stream of water to rinse out my mouth. "Okay," I call. "Come in."

The creak of the door is the only indication they've listened. "Tell me about the old woman," I say as I wet my hair.

James clears his throat. "She's the mother of the king of the witches."

"All the witches?" I ask. Surely, there are multiple sects, like multiple countries have their own governments.

"All of this coven, which is considerably huge. It’s the largest in the States," Hank replies. “And I think second or third largest in the world.”

James sighs. "It’s both as simple as that and more complicated. All witches can do magic, and all people who can do magic are witches, but that doesn’t make them all the same. Sort of like a toad is always a frog, but a frog is not always a toad.”

I snort and peek at him around the shower curtain. I’ve never heard that analogy before.

He just nods and smiles before continuing. “In general, magical people find themselves in covens—large ones. It’s easier to live a magical life in a world full of non-magical humans when you’re not trying to hide who you are.” There’s something in his voice that I can’t put a name to, but now isn’t the time to ask. “Sometimes, there are people like us who live outside the covens. Normally, for a very good reason.”

"Okay, so that explains you guys. What about the old lady?"

"She's the Dowager Queen of all the witches and wizards in this coven. She was married to the king, but since she wasn't born to the throne, she didn't inherit it."

"That's how they roll in England, isn't it?" I ask.

"Why, yes, it is," James says, his British accent thickening slightly. "The current government and line of succession that witches use around the world originated in England."

"Okay, so the king was the oldest kid? That's why he's king?"

"No, actually," Will clears his throat. "There was an older sister. But she disappeared without a trace when she was nineteen."

"Ohh, intriguing," I say as I lather up my hair. "The brother took the throne."

"Yes," Hank says. "And he's horrible. He oppresses his people and rules with an iron fist."

My slight levity vanishes. "Oh. That's terrible."

"It is." James's voice is soft. "Not much any of us can do about it unless the rightful Queen shows up. That’s the main reason we don’t live inside the coven." That thing in his voice is back. I hope he explains it at some point.

"Any idea where she went?" I ask.

Hank's deep voice continues the conversation over the sound of the water hitting the shower floor as I rinse the soap from my hair. "No, but the speculation is she fell in love with a human."

My hands freeze in my hair. "Really?"

"Yeah, and of course, back then especially, witches and humans couldn't mingle. There are a fair amount of humans in this town. They're watched carefully for signs that they've figured things out. For the most part, the magic in the area repels humans. We think the ones that are happy and comfortable here probably have magic in their blood, but it's diluted or dormant."

"She couldn't be free with her relationship," I whisper. "And she ran away." It sounds too familiar. "What was her name?"

"Regina Kranton," James answers me.

Alarm bells go off in my head. "That name is so familiar," I whisper. I need a moment to compose myself. The sound of the former princess's story and her name is throwing me for a loop. "I'm almost done," I say as I lather up my washcloth. "I'll meet you downstairs in a minute." I'd intended to let them hang out while I dressed on the other side of my door. If they plan to take me to the Queen Mother, or whoever she is, I need to hear more about her.

As I finish washing and rinsing, I search my memories, wading through foster family after foster family. Maybe I was connected to the old woman that way somehow. I can't bring much to mind, but the name Kranton rings in my mind like a church bell.

As I pull on my underwear, I hear the sound of alarm bells coming from next door. "Callie, meet us at the truck," James calls upstairs. "We have to go!"

I guess that means I'm going on their fire call with them. Better than being left alone, I guess, but it seems like an awfully big coincidence that there's a fire now when we're supposed to be hiding.

I yank on my clothes before jerking a brush through my hair and snagging a hair tie to put on my wrist. After slipping my spare pair of sneakers on my feet, I sprint down the stairs and out the front door.

Even as fast as I moved, they were already in their gear. Damn. These hot firemen are well-trained.

Sugar waves me over to the rescue truck. "Not enough seats in the rig," she says as she jumps in the front. "We usually take this on fire calls anyway. Never know when you'll need the emergency supplies."

I hop in the passenger seat as she pulls out ahead of the fire truck, her sirens flashing and alarm horns blaring.

Well, whether this is a real call or not, here we go.