I went inside and busied myself making tea. Ignoring the stares from the others. Finding my place, myself again, inside Beast's angry heart.
The witches' story was simple, and so stupid that it was believable. A vampire sorcerer, a male witch who had been turned, had come to their small coven, five women of the same bloodline, who worked together. He'd claimed he had proof that Leo Pellissier was kidnapping and killing children who carried the witch gene, killing off the next generation of witches to cement his waning power. He had proved he was more powerful than Leo by walking in the last rays of the sun. They had believed his story. Against the wishes of the city's other covens, they had agreed to help. Working with them, he had identified several undocumented witch children and teens and staked out the perimeters of their homes.
When the attack came against Bliss, protected behind only electronic security, without wards, the vamp and the two witches were watching. Two vamps, most likely Renee and Tristan, had spelled Bliss, who had come out of her room through the window. The watching witches had attacked to save her. But the vamp who had befriended them turned on his witch helpers, joining the Damours. Both witches were injured.
The Damours had placed an amulet on each witch's chest, into her blood, and drained her power. Carrying Bliss and forcing the wounded witches, they had climbed over the fence and blasted their way through the wards on my house. They'd taken the children and gotten away, dropping off the conned, injured, magically drained witches to make their way home in the dark.
"Why didn't the vamps drain you?" Rick asked.
"One tried. The little girl who lived here hit him with something," the smaller blonde said. "I didn't see what, but it stopped him. He looked at her, and then he let us go. It was weird."
Angelina. Angelina had caught his attention. With her strong powers bound just under the surface, Angie Baby was the perfect sacrifice. I wanted to rip the heads off the witches' shoulders for their stupidity.
"We were both pretty bad off, drained of our gifts," the other witch said, "but as soon as we could, we came straight over here to tell you." The witches looked at each other and back to me, fearfully. The women were sitting around the kitchen table, Rick leaning against the cabinet, Evan standing in the doorway, as if he couldn't be any closer to the grouping or he would kill someone. Evan was a huge man. If he lost his temper, he might be dangerous. I stood off to the side, silent, knowing that Beast was still in my eyes, the full moon holding her close to the surface. For now, she was content to let me remain alpha, but I didn't expect it to last.
The smaller blonde said, "I'm Butterfly Lily. My mom is Feather Storm." When she saw Evangelina's brows go up, she grinned. "Okay, not our real names, our coven names, and the only ones we'll give you tonight." Her smile fell away as if the tissue beneath broke apart and pulled the emotion with it.
"We thought we were doing the right thing, saving witch children, working with the vampires to heal the rift between our races. Picking the winning side." Butterfly Lily ducked her head and her voice went softer. "Mom and I are not real powerful. Mostly we're used as routing for group workings."
She said to Evangelina, "We brought him to our coven. He promised to help us catch the kidnapper. We believed him. He was convincing."
Evangelina said nothing, her expression both sad and condemning. She sighed. "Go on."
"I know. It was stupid. We were stupid. He had us watch the vamps for weeks. Had us track them to their parties and to their lairs. Gathering information."
There had been five witches outside of the vamp party, under a glamour. Hiding. Watching. This coven. Doing the dirty work of the Damours.
"He got us to track down every nonaligned witch and witch child in the city so he could protect them. He said that once he had enough evidence to prove that Leo Pellissier was kidnapping witches, he was going up against the blood-master of the city. When he won, he'd declare peace with us and sit down to negotiate."
I was fighting an enemy I'd never met face-to-face. An enemy I'd seen only on canvas and in the young faces of his children. I wanted to weep.