Entangled Secrets. Pat Esden
Chloe poured, she took the glass. The wine was deep red and semisweet on her tongue, a heady flavor and soothing relief. “I feel awful about the things we said to Lionel. When I shook his hand, I sensed only kindness.”
“I totally agree,” Chloe said. “Also, I didn’t think about it until he mentioned The Thinker. But when I saw that same performer that night, I did notice he had the energy of a shifter.”
Gar took off his cap and raked a hand over his rumpled black curls. “Did you think he was a loup-garou?”
“All I know is that we need to talk to this guy and make sure his transforming in public was a one-time mistake.”
Em’s quiet voice broke into the conversation. “It’s effing awful that the Circle is responsible for the actions of people who aren’t even members of their coven.”
“Like it or not, it’s the law,” Gar said. “Shapeshifter. Fae. Full demon. Or half-demon cambions, like Merlin’s Shade and his half brother, Magus Dux… It doesn’t matter what kind of being they are, if they pose a threat to the anonymity of the witching world, it’s the local coven’s responsibility to police the situation.”
Em picked up one of the kittens, stroking it. “I get the need for anonymity. Still, it’s not right for a coven or anyone to police other peoples’ or beings’ lives.”
“The law is law. It’s not up for philosophical debate,” Gar said.
“Unless you’re standing in front of the Council, right?” Chandler added.
Gar dipped his head, an admission that she was correct. He cocked an eyebrow. “However, in this case, we may have a third option. If this street performer is indeed a wayward loup-garou, I’ll call my dad and ask him to have his pack come down from Quebec and take care of the situation. The Circle’s had enough problems lately without dealing with this.”
“You can say that again.” Chandler smiled to herself. She’d never have believed a day would come when she’d hope someone would turn out to be a wayward loup-garou, so a bunch of French Canadians could come straighten him out.
Ten minutes later, Chandler stood at the kitchen island putting together a plate of tacos. Midas and Brooklyn had outdone themselves creating the dinner spread. There were bowls of grated cheese, spiced beef and black beans, tomatoes, and lettuce from the coven’s greenhouse, chopped herbs, and ripe olives soaked in wine. All the delicious aromas made her mouth water and she had a hard time choosing what to take. Thank goodness putting together Peregrine’s plate had been straightforward.
With plate in hand, Chandler settled down on a stool between Peregrine and Midas. She was about to take her first bite when the kitchen door swung open and Devlin walked in, returning from seeing Lionel off.
“I’m glad that’s over,” he said. “But I’m afraid it’s not the last we’ll see of Lionel.”
Gar looked up from his spot beside Em at the end of the island. “We should try to track down The Thinker first thing tomorrow. See for ourselves if he’s a loup-garou.”
“I agree,” Chloe said. “Do you think just a couple of us should go? Would too many of us frighten him off?”
Midas set his taco in the middle of his plate. “I can’t go. I’ve got to make some headway on my thesis.”
Chandler viewed Midas as both an exciting new coven member and a mystery. As a person who worked in frayed sweatshirts and welder’s pants and rarely made it past 9:00 a.m. before being covered in grime, she could hardly fathom how Midas managed to always look impeccable. Even the layers of his tacos were as neat as his bead-studded dreadlocks and button-down shirts. Then again, Midas approached everything, including his geomancy, with scientific precision.
“How about if Gar and I go,” Devlin said. “And maybe you too, Chandler. Does that sound good to everyone?”
“I’d like to go,” Chandler said.
As Chloe reiterated where she’d previously seen The Thinker, Chandler got up and fetched an extra napkin for Peregrine. When she returned to her stool, Devlin tapped his knife against his wineglass. “If we can forget about the shapeshifter for a second,” he said, “there’s something else I’d like to discuss while we’re all together. I was going to wait until we finished eating. But, frankly, I can’t keep it to myself any longer.”
“Sounds serious,” Midas said. His attention whipped back to his taco as Brooklyn pinched a ribbon of cheese off the top of it. He playfully swatted her hand. “No stealing.”
She popped the cheese into her mouth. “If you’re not nice, I won’t tell you what Devlin’s talking about.”
Midas frowned. “You know?”
“Uh-huh. I saw it in the cards this morning.” Brooklyn licked her lips, drawing out the suspense. Today, she was dressed in turquois and dark purple. An embroidered talisman bag and shells dangled from her beaded necklace. Of all of the coven members, Brooklyn always looked the most like the mainstream concept of a witch—albeit, a young Haitian version. Chandler liked Brooklyn and trusted her, though she did have lingering mixed feelings about how Brooklyn had continued to support Rhianna even after the rest of them had realized something was horrifically wrong with her. Still, when it came down to it, Brooklyn had turned her back on Rhianna. An act that was admirable and took a lot of courage.
“Want to give us a clue?” Chandler said to her.
Brooklyn smiled smugly. “No. But I know exactly what Devlin has in mind. And I vote yes.”
Chandler rubbed her upper chest, sensing the warmth of her most recent dragon tattoo. “I’m guessing this doesn’t have anything to do with Lionel?”
Devlin lifted his wineglass, toasting her.
Chandler forced a smile, totally confused by the gesture.
Lowering the glass, Devlin continued. “Gar wisely advised us last week to appoint a temporary high priestess. Chloe hoped to fill the position until the situation with the High Council was completely squared away. However, she’s worried about keeping up with her classes.”
“It’ll be a miracle if I pass organic chem,” Chloe said.
Chandler nodded. Actually, she couldn’t see how Chloe kept up at all, let alone achieving the grades she needed to get into medical school.
“At any rate,” Devlin said. “We’ve been talking about who should take Chloe’s place as the coven’s high priestess. I think the choice is obvious.”
As his gaze came her way, Chandler’s breath stalled in her throat. Her? The Northern Circle’s high priestess? She was an adept witch, not a new initiate like Chloe and Em. She’d helped Athena with the day-to-day running of the coven for years. Maybe the choice was obvious, but she’d never considered doing anything other than serving at the right hand of the Circle’s high priestess. “If you’re thinking of me, I’m not the only choice. You need to at least consider Brooklyn.”
Brooklyn held her hands out, like she was fending off the plague. “No way. Without even mentioning how I screwed up with Rhianna, there’s too much garbage that comes with being a high priestess, like dealing with High Council assholes.” She shot a look at Gar. “Sorry, kind of.”
“No insult taken. I pride myself on my asshole ability.” Gar’s expression grew serious. “You want to remember—every coven’s high priest and priestess are automatically eligible to be included on the High Council election ballot. With all the duplicity and political maneuvering currently going on, the possibility of election makes choosing a self-confident and smart high priest and priestess even more vital, and it makes serving more hazardous to those who are chosen.” His voice lightened. “That said, if I were a Northern Circle member, I’d vote for Chandler.”
Midas waved his hand. “I second Chandler’s nomination.”
Chandler could barely