Page 33 of The Witch's Pet

“Your ancestor was a powerful witch.”

“My ancestors have owned this bar for generations. None of them were a—whatever you think they were.”

I release Maya’s arm and seize her throat, slamming her back against the brick wall. “Lying to me is a mistake.”

“Julia!” Hannah rushes forward, her voice sharp. “Don’t.”

I ignore her, tightening my fingers enough to make breathing difficult. “I knew Florence before she had children. We worked together for decades. She made the most exquisite protection charms—little silver amulets shaped like crescent moons.”

“I don’t—know what—you’re talking about.” Maya’s hands fly to my wrist, trying to pry me off.

Beneath my arm, at her collar, I catch a glint of silver.

Anger pulses through me at the sheer nerve of this woman for thinking she can keep me at bay like I’m some ghost or demon. I squeeze harder. “Allthis effort to protect yourself from evil, but none of these protections work against a coven sister, Maya Kwan.”

“I’m not—who you think I am,” she chokes out.

Pathetic. If she were a witch, she would have used her magic to defend herself by now.

“Even if the gift skipped you, that does not grant you an escape from who you are.”

She meets my gaze for the briefest moment. The hesitation is all the confirmation I need. She’s hiding something. And I’m too desperate to be gentle.

I press my palm against her clavicle.One hex. I can afford it.

I murmur an incantation—not to draw out her life force, but to make her talk. “Tell me what you know.”

Maya’s scream cuts through the alley. She convulses against the wall, her eyes rolling back. The veins in her face darken, her skin graying.

“Julia, stop it!” Hannah tries to pry my hand away, but I shove her back with my free arm.

“Not until she tells us something useful,” I say before continuing the incantation.

Blood trickles from Maya’s nose, dripping onto her collar. She shudders in pain, but her eyes stay sharp. She keeps her jaw clamped tight, giving no indication that she’ll bend.

I grit my teeth, breathing hard. Sweat prickles across my back. I’m draining what power I have left, but I refuse to show it. As far as Maya is concerned, I could do this for hours.

“So stubborn,” I mutter, pressing her harder.

“Maya.” Hannah steps forward, her tone urgent. “Julia and I have been bound together by a spell, and if we can’t find her old coven, we’ll be stuck like this forever. Please help us.”

Maya’s eyes flick between us, her breathing ragged, sweat beading on her temples despite the cold. “Why should I care? Maybe the world will be safer if Julia Moreau is tethered to someone with a conscience.”

Her use of my full name makes me pause. So she does know who I am. That’s why she ran. Even if she’s not a witch, does her blood still sing with recognition when she spots one? Should I be flattered that someone in her lineage feared me enough to warn her about me?

“I’m searching for Rebecca,” I say, easing up a little. “And the others. A location is all we need.”

Maya scoffs, looking venomous. “Why would I help a sanguine witch? My mom told me what that means. What you do to people. A warning about you has been passed down since Florence’s time.”

“A warning? About me?” I grin. Looks like I wasn’t forgotten, after all.

“Just leave me alone, okay? I have no connection to that life. Don’t make me call my bouncer out here.”

I don’t know what a “bouncer” is, but I’m willing to bet it won’t hold up against a sanguine witch. Magic crackles between my fingers.

But Hannah grips my arm. “Julia, we can get what we need a different way,” she whispers.

I curl my fingers, wanting to keep using force. But if Maya is even remotely as stubborn as Florence was, I’m not sure about my chances of getting information out of her.