Something Wicked. Julie Leto

shook her head. “Lilith guessed—and she was right—that the defense attorney who killed that snitch of yours was actually a witch. A black witch. Black magic. He was under the control of the warlock who tried to kill Lilith.”

      “You mean the guy I voted for as mayor?”

      Josie nodded. The newly elected mayor had tried to secretly merge his magical world with the mundane, with him as head of all. But Lilith and Mac had stopped the plan dead. Literally.

      She turned and faced him straight on. “The mayor wanted to use Lilith to get to Regina, so Lilith never called for help. When she finally wanted to, there weren’t any protection squads to come to the rescue. Lilith and Mac improvised and managed to kick warlock ass, but now, they’re both working with the squads, training and increasing their number.”

      “Mac is training and fighting with witches?”

      “It’s hard, since he’s a mundane, but—”

      “But it’s not impossible,” Rick supplied with a humorless chuckle. “I’ve done my fair share of damage without any magical intervention.”

      “Mac has Lilith. He’s a part of the magical world now. You’re not.”

      “And I don’t want to be!”

      He spun off the bed, causing his duffel to tumble to the floor. Josie flinched, half-expecting the gun to go off and kill them both. Closing her eyes, she willed her heart to slow down, but all she felt was the increasing heat of the amulet on her chest.

      “Then don’t,” she said finally. “Come back to Chicago with me. You’ve killed how many supernatural beings?”

      His eyes widened, then narrowed with determination. “Not enough. And not the one I’m looking for.”

      Josie swallowed thickly. She’d known Rick had been trolling the supernatural underworld, hunting for demons and warlocks. She hadn’t known he was searching for a particular one. “Whose trail are you on now?”

      He ran his hand over his smooth jaw. “You don’t want to know.”

      “No, I don’t. But whether or not I want to know isn’t a consideration anymore. Ignorance is no longer an option. All that changed for me last year, same as you, when we were dragged into a world we didn’t know existed. Frankly, I wish we still didn’t know. Life was so much simpler.”

      “Ignorance is bliss.”

      She didn’t miss the yearning in his voice. Holding out her hand to him, she lured him back to the bed. He slipped his palm in hers but didn’t sit. His fingers were stiff, his muscles twitching, as if he was ready to tug away at a second’s notice. She pulled him forward and flattened his hand over the amulet.

      “It’s too late for ignorance,” she said, loving how his dark skin looked against her fair flesh, remembering how much pleasure he’d wrought with those fingers just last night. She couldn’t help but wonder if she possessed enough feminine power to keep him close, lure him back, save his life. And perhaps, his soul. It was a lot to take on. She was, after all, just a semi-successful Wiccan shopkeeper with a sordid past and a penchant for choosing men who couldn’t possibly love her in return.

      “It’s not too late for you,” he said.

      “I may not know everything that happened to you, Rick, but I know enough to believe this isn’t your fight.”

      “You’re wrong. It’s mine more than anyone’s. You weren’t there. You don’t know.”

      “Don’t know what?”

      “What it feels like to fight off some sort of dark entity that is trying to take over your body—probably even your soul.”

      RICK CURSED. He hadn’t intended to tell her. By giving her too much information, he was dragging her more deeply into his fucked-up life.

      “What do you mean?” she asked, shock evident in the breathiness of her voice.

      “Do you know how warlocks are made?”

      She had to close her gaping mouth for a moment before she replied. “They’re born. The mother is a witch and the father is human, though he has to be particularly nasty to spawn an evil entity like a warlock. Criminal or psychopath. That sort. Warlocks don’t receive their powers until late in life.”

      “So you have read those books in your back room,” he said.

      “How did you know—”

      He cut her off with a hand. “Do you know how they die?”

      “They’re half human. They die the same way humans do.”

      “The body does, yes. Like the mayor. But not, necessarily, the spirit. That one Lilith killed was an old soul. An evil one. He died physically that night, but his essence, the blackest shadow I’ve ever seen, tried to invade my body.”

      Her eyes were as wide as her open mouth, which she covered with a shaking hand. He hadn’t wanted to tell her the truth, but maybe this was best. Maybe he’d frighten her enough to send her running back to Chicago without a backward glance.