Chapter 2

• Evan groaned as he pulled open the door. He didn’t need to open it to see who would be on the other side. He could feel the magic, and he would be in trouble if he ignored the loud banging. Hungover, he inclined his head slightly to acknowledge his superior standing there. “Senior, to what do I owe this very early visit?” He just wanted to go back to bed.
• The older man brushed past him and moved to stand a few feet from him. “Celebrate Samhain a little too much last night, Mr. Dermott?”
• Evan shrugged. “Possibly.”
• The older man shook his head. “Were you too drunk to feel the charge of darkness last eve?”
• Evan hissed out a breath and motioned to the kitchen. This wasn’t going to be a brief visit. “No, I was quite sober at that point.” Running his hand through his hair he tried to stimulate his brain.
• The elder walked quickly into the kitchen. “I have been up all night trying to trace who would dare to use dark magic on such a sacred night; I have come up with empty hands.”
• Evan filled the coffee maker and flicked it on before he turned. “And you’re sharing this with me because?”
• Senior sat at the table and sighed. “I am too old to go on bad little witch hunts, Evan. It was passed to you when your father retired.”
• Evan exhaled slowly. “I know this, but at the time I accepted the honor, there hadn’t been the need for a hunt for thirty years.” He sat down and rubbed a hand down over his face. “I’ve been so busy learning the ropes at the company that dear old Dad handed over early to go off and gallivant all over the planet that I’m afraid my magical skills have been poorly neglected. Someone else might be a better choice.”
• He studied the older man briefly. He looked up at the coffee pot and willed it to finish faster. He was only twenty-four, and he was now running a multimillion-dollar corporation in the real world and had been handed the job of hunter for witches who broke sacred laws in his magical community. When, he wondered, did he get time to relax or have fun?
• “I am sure your skills are just fine, Dermott. You can still sense magic, can you not?”
• Evan got up, not caring if the maker was finished. He wanted coffee now. “Yes, I can still sense magic.”
• “That’s fine then. I’ll need you to start searching within a hundred-mile perimeter today.”
• Evan turned to stare at him. “Today?”
• The elder stood while nodding. “Yes. One of our own could be affected, or worse, someone without any magic at all. Justice needs to be served and the mess cleaned up or controls set in place.”
• Guilt bit through his lethargic body, and he frowned. “Fine, I will take a trip and see what I can find.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I will have to look in the evenings. The company is at a critical moment right now, and my days are filled with that.”
• “Very good.” The elder waved his hand around the room. “I’ll leave you to recover from last night’s festivities and look forward to your call later.”
• “Sure thing,” he mumbled as he followed the man to the door.
• ~
• He wasn’t a detective for crying out loud! He studied the map again then looked out the windshield. It had been three nights, or partial ones, and nothing so far. The spell he’d sent out in the air had led him in the same direction time and time again, but then the signal would just fade, leaving him on the side of the road.
• He cursed and tossed the map into the passenger’s seat. He needed food, coffee, and some sleep. He reached over to search through the pile of newspapers on the seat, all from small rural towns he had been through, none pointing him in any direction that yielded information. He sighed and looked out the window.
• Across the street was an old graveyard, not one of those with new polished headstones and pretty flower holders. This one had old gothic tombstones and a sense of history, and he was sure that if he’d stepped inside the gates, magic.
• He glanced slowly from the graveyard back to the pile of papers. Obituaries had been the one place he hadn’t thought to look. It was a long shot, but he was out of other ideas. Picking up the first one, he quickly flipped to the back. No deaths recently in this community.
• He checked the four papers, and only one had any notices listed. Picking up his cell phone, he dialed the Senior and hoped this would turn out to be something. Senior answered.
• “Hello, Senior. I need to run two names by you and see if they’re of any significance.”
• “You’ve found something?”
• Evan rubbed his jaw. “Possibly.” He held up the page. “Do either of these names belong to our community? Ethel Willis or Faith Trainer?” He lowered the paper and waited.
• “Trainer? Oh, it couldn’t be . . .”
• Evan’s eyebrows drew together. “Couldn’t be what?”
• “Two members of our community were killed a few years ago. Magic was involved but we never told their children, but they left behind two daughters, Faith and Gracelyn…”
• Not common names. “I’ll look into it.”
• “Where did you come up with these names, Evan?”
• Evan glanced at the paper. “Obituaries.”
• “Oh! Oh, find Gracelyn. This may not have anything to do with the eve of Samhain, but she will be alone now. Find her and bring her home, Evan.”
• He didn’t like how panicked the elder sounded. “I’ll do my best, sir.” He hung up the phone. Had things just gotten better or worse? He was off the hook for the black witch magic hunt, for now. But now he had one dead and one missing witch to find. Definitely worse.
• Growling in frustration, he started the car and spun it around in the direction of the small town. If she’d just buried her sister, she couldn’t be too far, he hoped.