Duncan thundered. He stuffed his booted foot in the front door of the Witches’ Northwest headquarters to discourage the male witch on the other side from slamming it in his face. “She and the other two, and their creature, left early this morning.” The witch kept his voice mild. Duncan sensed a placating spell beneath the words. “Please.” The slightly built man bent toward him, talking low. Brown hair chopped to uneven lengths fell over his hazel eyes. He looked truly young, maybe not much over eighteen. “Please what?” Duncan matched the witch’s muted tones. “Things are a little difficult just now. It would be best if you left before Mathilde—” “Oh no you don’t,” a strident female voice called from somewhere upstairs. “Mistress said she was particularly interested in the Sidhe if he came back.” Footsteps sounded on the risers. Duncan drew his boot out of the way and moved off to one side. The male witch nodded tersely and pushed the door closed. His words, “It’s not what you think,”
