Page 27 of Draven

Despite working together for two years, Mrs. Moore had always been cordial and professional, but we weren't exactly close.

Her warning left me feeling uneasy, wondering what she knew that I didn't. Still, a sudden idea struck me.

Draven's confession earlier had left me curious about the existence of black witches.

"Mrs. Moore," I began.

"Lucinda," she gently corrected. "We've been working together for a good while now. I feel you should call me by my first name."

"Lucinda," I began again, feeling a bit hesitant. "We've been working together for a while now. I feel like we should know more about each other. Are you still a practicing witch?"

Most of the paranormal groups in town kept to themselves, so I felt a little awkward bringing this up.

"Indeed," she replied with a small smile.

"Well... I was wondering what kind of witch you are, and are there other kinds of witches?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"What's this really about, Tobias?" she questioned, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Well..." I hesitated, debating how much I should reveal.

Draven had mentioned he'd only been comfortable enough to share what happened to him with his lead alpha.

He wasn't even ready to tell me the full story, yet I felt like I needed more information.

"A friend of mine made an enemy of a witch," I began.

"Your 'alligator' shifter friend?" Lucinda asked, placing special emphasis on the word 'alligator'.

It struck me as odd, especially considering Draven's amused reaction when I brought it up last night.

"Well, crossing a witch is always a bad idea," Lucinda said. "Even a white witch like me and my coven. There are three kinds, in case you're wondering: white witches who practice earth and healing magic, gray witches who dabble on occasion with the unsavory arts, and..."

She trailed off, her expression uncertain.

"Black witches? Do they exist?" I asked, feeling a bead of sweat form on my brow.

"They no longer do. The last family of black witches, the Paynes, were hunted down a century ago by a group of shifters," she said matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out, feeling a pang of sympathy.

"Don't be," Lucinda said, giving me a sharp look. "The world is better off without their kind. They're a plague on this earth."

"This friend of yours," Lucinda began, her gaze piercing. "I sense you haven't told me the full story."

I shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

"I was just curious, that's all. I think he pissed off a white witch, come to think of it. Ahem." I cleared my throat, feeling the need to change the subject. "Let's go back to work."

Lucinda gave me a skeptical look, but thankfully didn't pry any further. I breathed a sigh of relief as we returned to our tasks.

CHAPTER EIGHT

DRAVEN/ TOBIAS

DRAVEN

I dreamt of the rustic cabin nestled in the mountains, its little green roof peeking out from among the trees.