“My father has no right using you as an IT guy. He has tons of them,” Howard Allen declared, lounging on the balcony with Sylvia Ramey perched on his lap, feeding him a grape.

“It’s fine,” Conner Simpson shrugged, flipping through his family’s ancient tome. “He’s hosting the conference at home, and it’s not like he has IT guys here.”

“He could call them, though,” Otis Kites pointed out, not looking up from his cards as he played against his girlfriend. “Right, Mandy?”

“Why are you asking me?” Mandy Laurel raised an eyebrow, glancing up from her hand. “Do I look like I know the ins and outs of this place?”

“Well, you are His Baldness’ half-sister,” Otis quipped, never missing a chance to tease Howard. “You should know something.”

“Talking about IT people,” Jason smirked as he shuffled his cards. “If your father needs one permanently, he should snag the one from the Harvest Grove facility. It’s rare to see Conner flustered, but that technician had him all worked up. I didn’t see her myself, but I saw Conner’s reaction. He lit up when he saw her.”

“Shut up,” Conner muttered, glaring at him.

Jason snickered. “Someone’s touchy.”

“Will you stop teasing him?” Sylvia, ever the mother of the group, chided Jason. “And anyway, this is hardly the time to be focusing on cute girls.”

“Not even if they’re you?” Howard asked, giving his longtime girlfriend a playful nudge.

She sent him a crooked smile. “Of course not. I’m beautiful.”

Mandy rolled her eyes and laid her cards down. “If the rumors are right and Austen is still alive, this isn’t the time for games or gossip.”

Otis sighed, dropping his cards as well. “That Witch-Hunter wasn’t exactly a reliable source.”

“It doesn’t matter what he said under duress,” Mandy snapped, narrowing her eyes at her boyfriend. “The Witch-Hunters have been rallying and preparing for something. When was the last time they were this active?”

Jason leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. “During Austen’s campaign for power.”

“But he died,” Otis insisted, frowning. “And with him, the James bloodline.”

“That’s exactly what he’d want us to think, isn’t it?” Mandy steepled her fingers, her expression intense. “If the Witch-Hunters had truly killed him, they wouldn’t hide in the shadows for all these years. They’d have taken everyone else out immediately.”

Howard cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “I called this meeting for a reason. I’ve heard whispers of a confirmed child of Austen James—a girl. Her mother was a leading member of her coven before she left. A Blake.”

“A daughter?” Jason leaned forward, intrigued. “Austen James had a daughter.”

“This changes things,” Conner mumbled, closing his book. “The Blakes were part of the Willow’s End coven, right?”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Howard nodded. “Carla Blake was the leader.”

“It makes sense he’d father a child with the coven leader,” Sylvia mused. “And if she’s his only child, she’d definitely be the Firstborn.”

“I call dibs,” Otis said, raising his hand.

Mandy smacked him on the side of his head.

“I was joking, Mandy!” Otis flinched, rubbing his head.

Jason and Conner exchanged amused smirks.

Mandy continued to glare at Otis, her eyes burning with anger.

Suddenly, he jumped up, cursing, and brought his hand to his rear. “Jesus! I was serious when I said I was joking! Stop burning my ass!”

Mandy raised an eyebrow and looked away, her expression filled with disdain.

“We’re going to have to check this out,” Sylvia declared, her voice firm. “We need to send someone to scout Harvest Grove.”

“Don’t look at me,” Otis grumbled, slumping back into his chair. “After what just happened, Mandy would probably slit my throat if I got near the James girl.”

“Probably?” Mandy sneered, her eyes cold.

Otis gulped, feeling the weight of her threat.

Howard turned his gaze to Conner. “I’m sending you in. I want you to be in and out. Be a shadow. Remember, after the Witch-Hunters massacred the old coven, the whole town’s suspicious of everyone. Find out discreetly if the rumors are real and if the girl truly exists.”

“And if she does?” Conner asked, his voice steady.

“Then we deal with it accordingly,” Howard replied, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Meanwhile, Maya managed to convince her overprotective father not to expect her at Allen Corp after school every evening. After he ended his conference call, they went home together, spending the rest of Saturday on the couch. Maya took her pain meds and sucked on the lozenges the EMT had given her. Her father was at her beck and call, so worried and caring that it made her feel incredibly lucky. Despite this, guilt gnawed at her later that night when she sneaked out after he fell asleep.

She couldn’t risk starting the car and waking her father, so she zipped up her hoodie and began walking. It would take her a while to get there on foot, but she’d informed the coven that she might be late. They wouldn’t complain, especially not with what she had to say.

Plopping in another soothing lozenge, Maya slipped earphones into her ears and started playing music on her phone for some company as she walked down the dark road. Some of the streetlights were out, and the houses were dark, with everyone asleep. Despite the recent attack, Maya didn’t feel scared. Perhaps it was because the attacker had thrown himself out of a window to escape her, or maybe it was the way she’d instinctively used her magic to stop the attack. That powerful, potent magic made her feel overconfident.

As Robin Skouteris’s “PopLove,” a mashup of about 24 different artists, began playing, she turned up the volume on her iPod and started walking to the beat. She twirled a couple of times, thankful it was late enough that she could make a fool of herself without being seen. She was shaking her hips and skipping, laughing at herself as she danced her way to the meeting, oblivious to the shadow trailing her.

Elsewhere, Harper knelt before her parents’ graves, staring at their tombstones. She visited far too often, seeking guidance, some sign that they were watching over her. Yet, each time, she left with tears in her eyes and an overwhelming fear that there would never be a sign. She pulled out her phone, checking the time. A sigh escaped her. It was nearly time to go to the Brew for the meeting, keeping it hidden from Aunt Clarissa. Harper felt a pang of guilt for the deception but reminded herself that it was Aunt Clarissa’s actions that had nearly destroyed their coven.

“Are the Witch-Hunters back?” Harper asked her parents’ graves, knowing there would be no answer.

News of Maya’s attack had spread throughout the town. If Maya hadn’t texted them to stay away and meet her at the Brew tonight without Clarissa, well...

Harper sighed, worry gnawing at her. What if a Witch-Hunter had attacked Maya? What did this mean for their coven? Down two members already, Harper couldn’t see how they could bind the coven now. She was grateful Angelo and Maya were still with them and not starting a coven of their own, though they had every right to do so. Harper desperately wanted them to remain part of her coven.

A twig snapped behind her.

Harper twirled around, her eyes widening as she saw a backlit figure standing there, a crowbar in hand. Before she could react, he charged at her.