Where A Witch Goeth

Chapter Forty-Two: Coven of Three

Within the half-hour, it became apparent to me that Abraham was the Sept Spy because he was clearly experienced at reconnoitering both the pack and coven communities. He waterwalked us to the perfect highground mountain peaks above Lycombe and Mystic Mountain where we could check out what was going on in the towns below without being observed ourselves.

The stealth turned out to be unnecessary. Both communities were completely deserted.

"Merde," Abraham spat as he fought his way out of a tangle of rhododendron above the Mystic Mountain township and tore at his bowtie in frustration. "These witches and wolves are no fools. If, as it seems, they have worked together to subdue my family, they know there is still one of Evander's Sept—namely me—still afoot. They will have assumed that it might be possible for Evander to send me a magical distress signal through our Sept bond. And they may fear you as well, considering that memory you showed me of your second meeting with them. They have abandoned their towns. They are sheltering their vulnerable and hiding my Sept somewhere unknown."

I was still sprawled in the bushes, trying not to vomit, but I forced away the nausea and drug myself out to where he stood on scarily exposed granite rock. "I know where they might be. The wolves have a secret camp."

"Yes, of course! I saw in your memory where the Alpha held you," Abraham whirled with an excited smile, nearly knocking me off the mountain. I screamed as I felt myself falling backward, but he reached out casually and grabbed my upper arm, righting me. The echo of my scream bounced off the mountains.

In a second, he'd pushed me back into the bushes. "Well, we'll know for sure now if the town is truly empty."

We watched the storefronts, the house porches below. There was no movement.

"There's no one—"

"Non, là-bas!" he hissed and pointed across the canyon to a rocky outcropping. There was someone else on the high ground, spying on the town just as we were. In the dark with just the moonlight to see by, I couldn't make out who it was, but vampire eyesight is excellent in the dark, and Abraham hissed.

"Maeve," he snarled.

"Oh, Maeve." I leaped out of the bushes, whistled, and waved my arms at her. She waved back and tossed her scarf in the air, preparing to fly over to join us.

Abraham crouched in a defensive mode and jerked me behind him. "What did you do that for? She's the most dangerous of all of them."

"Yeah, but she's totally on our side. She's my grandmother. Your great-great-great-grandmother." I tell him.

He blinked. "What?"

"Maeve just had a Fae baby that will become my father one day. Wait, did that not come across in the tale transfer spell?"

"The future part, oui. The Fae Witch Warrior father, aussi. The knowledge that our troublesome nemesis Kincaid is also from the future, I received that, too. And of course, your apocalyptic vision of my Sept's future and meeting a future version of me, all that transferred. But the Maeve part? Non. How is it that you managed to relay your very graphic amorous antics with Evander but not that crucial detail about Maeve?" he grinned at me and straightened as Maeve touched down on the rock like a goth Mary Poppins.

"Oh, shut-up," I murmured as Maeve glared at him.

"Bon soir, Frenchie," she drawled.

"I think not, Madame Sorcière" he replied coldly as he raised from his crouch.

"Well, I guess you're right, it's not good at all, from your perspective. But why does he do that, anyway?" Maeve asked me as she whipped her scarf into a neckerchief and tied it around her neck. "Pepper his speech with French?"