Chapter 3: The Darkest Roast

Sebastian POV.

After Silas leaves, Lucas Night lets himself into my office. He settles in the chair Silas just occupied, and the difference in how the two men make me feel is stark. My uncle makes me draw a sharp breath.

Lucas is my chance to exhale. We’ve been best friends since university, and when I took over KingsGuard in the wake of my parents' death I asked him to help me do so. He is the brother I never had.

“I need you to find a witch and bring her in,” I say as I pour him and me glasses of scotch.

“Under which auspices,” he grins, “King or Guardian?”

King is my last name, but Guardian is my true inheritance. Any city populated by witches and humans operated under a co-leadership. Witches elected a single coven and humans elected a guardian to work on each people’s behalf. King men have been elected Guardian of New York since my great-grandfather served as the first.

I look out the window behind my desk. The only light left in the city is the green glow of the sunset along the horizon. Night blankets the subdivisions and hamlets that house humans and witches alike. I recall the darkness inherent to Beatrice’s magic and how I wanted to know her story.

How I want to know her story.

She danced the three nude men out the front of Canaries. She stood in the doorway of the shop so no one could see her deposit them across the street on the doorstep of KingsGuard.

That is where they are now two days later. Stories below me and Lucas.

Her magic has them hovering there like naked puppets on a string, unable to leave, unable to form words. The nightly news reports that when the din of traffic quiets you can hear a fiddle lightly on the air. It plays the music the men dance to, and it’s as whimsical as those napkins had been in her whirlwind.

“Neither,” I tell Lucas. “She needs to be convinced to come in. Not forced.”

He takes a long drink, “ This she…I assume is your Canaries witch?”

I arch an eyebrow, as he grins at my reaction. “Gigi and I talk.”

“Gigi and you gossip.” I correct him.

Lucas shrugs shamelessly.

“She works for me,” I settle into my chair. Lucas whistles long and low.

“So her leaving them on KingsGuard’s doorstep is a message? You think she knows about the tattoo ink?”

I shrug. I honestly don’t know.

“Either way, she thinks she wiped my memory. Obviously, our de-speller patches do actually work.”

“I’ll let marketing know.”

“I pretended to forget what I saw because I could tell she was scared.” I scowl.

“Ironic since the whole city is scared of whoever did this to those men.”

For good reason because no coven has been able to undo what Beatrice Hathaway did to those men.

It’s all over cable news. A vigil of humans are currently camped out at our front doors. They are keeping the men covered in blankets until their magical dancing knocks them loose. A few times a day their bodies stop jerking long enough to be fed. I assume they have no choice but to piss themselves. Still, no one knows when someone will figure out how to get them down. Until then, B*tches shines across their chests like neon signs, gleaming clearest in the dark.

“And she doesn’t know I’m…” I trail off, “me. She thinks I’m a guy from a coffee shop named Bash.”

“I think the best-kept secret in the world is how terrible you actually are with women.” Lucas snorts, audibly.

I swirl my glass on my desk and study the whirls of condensation it leaves behind. “Bring her in Lucas, quietly.”

“If you need her, why’d you let her escape Canaries?”

The memory of her smile rises to the surface. And then she said to those men: ‘I do not need your help.’

I huff, “I don’t think anyone lets Beatrice Hathaway do anything.”

“Then what?”

I stare at my best friend. He is one of two people in this world who I let call me on my bullsh*t.

“If she’s scared, don’t involve her just because you’re intrigued,” Lucas presses. “You don’t know what hell she’s been through with the covens. What they’ll do to one of their own.”

Slipped in between those words is Lucas’ own hell. He is a Hex, the son of a witch. Since magic only passes to daughters, witches leave their sons on the doorstep of human homes. It’s been their practice for generations, but when their existence was exposed it became another thing humans point to as separating us from them. Hexes are caught in the middle. Never fully accepted among humans and always shunned by witches.

“She’s hardly helpless,” I counter.

“Then think of what has someone that powerful is hiding,” he points to the window over my shoulder, “who is angry enough to do that.”

“If I had her power I’d have done the same. Probably worse.”

Lucas holds up a hand, “I’m not saying she didn’t have a reason. All I’m saying is be honest with yourself. Do you want her for her power or for…” he tips his head, “other things.”

Frustration flares. I swear. Lucas laughs. I stand and pace. Eventually, he quiets, and I can feel his assessing gaze.

“Sebastian–,”

“All I know is that something has to change. Between humans and witches.” The image of those three outed witches watching customers flee their businesses floods my mind. Then I start to remember the day of my parents' funeral, Gigi refusing to get out of bed, and I shake my head. “We can’t keep living like this. And I -,” I gesture between him and I, “we, this place, have real power to make that happen. And so does she.”

“She’s that impressive?”

“She was…more than I imagined was possible. And annoyingly pretty. And adorably awkward. And…” I trail off, “just more.”

Lucas scrubs a hand over his face and groans. “Fine.”

“Fine, what?”

“Fine, I will help you entangle yourself in what is absolutely going to be a clusterf*ck.”

I grin, “Admit it, you like drama.”

Lucas finishes his drink and meets my grin with one of his own, “I f*cking love drama, but not the kind that is likely to get my a** kicked by a witch with highlights. You're not the one who has to bring her in.”

“You have to convince her,” I repeat, “not force.”

“Yeah, I know. I have no desire to have my jig covered by CNN.”

“I have a plan,” I settle back into the chair behind my desk. This is where I belong. This is who I am. “A way to convince her.”

I push my tablet across the desk. Lucas skims the front page of the Times I have pulled up. The dancing men at KingsGuard’s front door are the top headline, but below that is the more important news story.

Lucas’ head snaps up, “You’re going to recruit her to help solve the murders?”

I nod, “A rash of murders of both humans and witches. The police are nowhere. Calls keep coming in for me as Guardian to do something, but I’m a CEO. Not a detective. But -,” I lean forward, “She is a powerful witch who clearly cares for at least some of her people. I’m a billionaire Guardian with limitless resources… She doesn’t hate humans enough to kill those men which means I stand a chance of convincing her. Together we solve these cases, and we let everyone know we did it. Together. That opens the door for me to get KingsCharm to those who actually need it.”

“That’s the plan? The whole plan?” Lucas bites his lip.

“It’s a good plan,” I counter. My best friend blinks at me. Once. Twice. A third time.

“It’s a good plan,” I repeat.

He stands up shaking his head and turns toward the door of my office.

“Lucas?” I call out, unsure.

He doesn’t stop. Just calls out without looking back, “Nope. Sorry. Don’t have time. I’ve got to go convince a witch to hunt down a serial killer because my best friend can’t just ask her out and buy her jewelry like a normal billionaire.”