“I like it,” Poppy said.

  “Where is the goat?” Piggy asked.

  “I like it too,” Astrid commented.

  “Ya,” Olga said, nodding enthusiastically. “Zat name ist perfect, I zink.”

  Betanya smiled. “I couldn’t have come up with a more fitting title for ourselves if I tried.”

  I glanced at Maverick. He’d been oddly quiet during the exchange. Even now, he wasn’t looking at any of us, instead focused on the flickering candles at the center of our circle.

  “What about you, Maverick?” I asked. “Any objections?”

  Maverick scowled. “Since when have I ever gotten a say in anything? Witches are the ones who decide all the rules and it looks as though you’ve already got majority vote. Name the bloody coven whatever you want—call it ‘Bob’ for all I care.”

  I stared at the side of his face until he finally met my gaze. “First of all, we aren’t naming the coven Bob because that’s just… dumb. Second, you have a say. You’re a part of this coven, which means you’re as equal as any other member is. So, I repeat… what do you think of the name?”

  He seemed to think about it for a minute before he grudgingly smiled. The expression was a touch bitter, but less so than any of the smiles I’d seen from him thus far.

  “Where else would a maverick belong?” he asked, an edge of mocking laughter in his voice. “Olga is right. Scapegrace is perfect. So… let’s make it official and get this show on the road.”

  I gave him a smile. “Yes,” I said. “Let’s.”

  Chapter Six

  Creating a coven was relatively simple in theory.

  Under the power of the full moon, all members had to anoint themselves with a binding oil, enter a meditative state, and mingle their life forces. Of course, my status as a Blood Witch complicated matters. That meant, there was the additional step of trying to keep my death energy out of the spell, which was proving more difficult than I’d anticipated.

  Much to Maverick’s displeasure and Lorcan’s extreme pleasure, I’d ended up between Lorcan’s thighs, my back against his chest. Our attempts to remove the blood bond had always proved strongest when we were touching in... intimate ways. It was just the way my magic worked, embarrassing as it was (and I was fairly sure I felt a slight stirring from the snake within Lorcan’s pants).

  But, back to my own power, I drew my abilities from fire, from passion, pleasure, from every exhilarating moment that made life worth living. I wasn’t about to strip naked and straddle Lorcan, though I doubt he would have minded. In fact, during many of our botched attempts to break the blood bond, I’d had to do exactly that—strip down. We’d found that without skin contact, trying to peel the bond back enough to perform the spell was an exercise in futility.

  “Relax, dearest,” Lorcan whispered, his cool breath ruffling the hair I’d tucked idly behind one ear.

  The sound of his voice was so near, and the feel of him at my back made me shiver. I’d gotten used to these little sessions when we were alone, so much so that it didn’t feel at all strange to be pressed against him as I now was. Of course, that was when we were alone, save Hellcat.

  With the eyes of my soon-to-be coven on me, what had the potential to be soothing was... decidedly not. No, cuddling against Lorcan with the eyes of everyone on me (Maverick’s the most intense) was awkward to say the least, and even if I’d been able to focus, Maverick clearly couldn’t. I could feel resentment boiling off him from across the circle as he glared at the side of Lorcan’s head, probably willing it to explode.

  “Must you… carry on in such a manner with all of us present?” he demanded.

  I glared at him because Lorcan and I really weren’t doing anything—I was just sitting between his legs.

  “If you don’t like it, don’t look,” I answered.

  “Wanda and Uncle Lorcan need to be touching in order for their magic to work right,” Astrid filled her brother in.

  “Uncle?” Maverick echoed, not bothering to disguise his disdain. “You call the vampire Uncle?”

  Astrid shrugged.

  “Would you like to call me ‘daddy’?” Lorcan asked Maverick with a boyish grin as I fought to keep my laugh to myself.

  “No,” Maverick answered. “I decidedly would not.”

  I jabbed a finger at him. “Do you want to be in this coven or not?”

  His hands balled into fists on his lap and he glowered down at them. “Of course, I do. I’ve wanted a coven for as long as I can remember.”

  “Then let’s get on with things, shall we?” I asked as an owl hooted from a tree overhead.

  Isis was currently fixed on Maverick’s right shoulder and called back the same forlorn notes.

  “I think everyone here is much too cavalier about the vampire,” Maverick continued. “Have all of you forgotten he’s dangerous?” He faced me then. “He wants to eat you alive.”

  “Lorcan isn’t,” I started but Maverick interrupted.

  “It’s in his nature and I don’t like him that close to your neck.”

  That was oddly touching... in a very roundabout and slightly condescending way. It was almost painful to watch Maverick try to behave himself. He was a bastard, but after quite literally walking a mile in his shoes, I had more sympathy for him. Of course, he hated women, and witches in particular, but maybe that was because he’d never had a positive experience with one? That didn’t make it right, yes, and he’d have some serious work to do before I ever trusted him, but I understood him. Or, at least, I understood why he was the way he was.

  And somewhere beneath the facade of a callous warlock lay a man who did care about his family—albeit in a very sick and twisted way.

  I raised a hand to my throat, stroking the gemstone that lay just above my breastbone. Last Yule Lorcan had gifted me with the specially crafted jewelry to mitigate some of the danger and threat he posed. “This necklace has a repulsion charm wound into it,” I explained to Maverick. “That means Lorcan can’t get close to me unless I let him. Which, translated, means I’m not in any danger.”

  “Unless he takes it off,” Maverick muttered.

  “He can’t. It’s spelled so only the person who put it on can take it off. So… Lorcan literally can’t go for my throat.”

  Maverick still looked skeptical as I stroked a lazy circle over the gemstone. I channeled just a hint of magic into it, and Lorcan immediately shifted away from me, body tense with discomfort. I let the power steadily build until Lorcan scrambled back.

  “Point taken!” he said. “Now will you turn that damn thing off? Or would you rather me retch up blood all over you?”

  So he’d fed tonight…

  I wondered on whom and when he’d done so. The thought of his mouth on some hapless mortal woman made my stomach twist with unthinking jealousy. Which made absolutely no sense because I couldn’t let Lorcan feed on me, even if I were so inclined. If he sank his fangs into me, I was dead because I was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

  I held onto the thread of the spell for a moment longer to drive the point home (and because I was irritated over the fact that Lorcan had fed, which wasn’t fair, but there it was) and eventually released the spell. Lorcan sagged in relief.

  “Can we stop getting sidetracked?” Poppy interjected as she began lighting the incense we’d be using for the spell. “If we’re going to make it to New Jersey in time for this assembly, we need to first have a coven, right?”

  “Right,” I grumbled.

  “And let me remind you,” she continued. “It’s a forty-three hour road trip from here to there.”

  “Why are we not flying?” Maverick asked.

  “Because we can’t exactly hide Lorcan in the cargo hold on short notice,” Poppy answered.

  “Who says the vampire is coming?” Maverick asked.

  “I do,” I said.

  “And why is that?” Maverick demanded.

  “Because the blood bond makes Lorcan crazier the further away he and I are.”

  “It’s safest for everyone if Lorcan comes along,” Betanya supplied.

  “So vere exactly are ve putting him?” Olga asked, brows drawing together. “Sunlight can get zrough zee vindows.”

  “In the trunk, I imagine,” Betanya answered.

  Astrid laughed. “That’s going to be a long and uncomfortable ride.”

  “Or I could simply borrow Marty for a weekend,” Lorcan said dryly. “A hearse will do nicely, and it has dignity. Yes,” he continued with a clipped nod. “We shall take two vehicles. The Escalade, and the hearse, and we’ll drive in shifts.”

  “Okay, let’s do this then,” I said, eyeing each person in turn. “Close your eyes.”

  They did.

  Even Maverick shut his eyes with a last, belligerent mutter.

  I stared at the flickering candles at the center of our circle and inhaled, tasting the incense on my tongue. Called Dragon’s Blood, it smelled of cinnamon, nutmeg, and something sweet like jasmine. The light from the full moon was streaming through the clouds, the air inside the cemetery somehow muggy.

  It was time.

  I slid my hand into Lorcan’s, guiding his fingers to my waist. He drew in a sharp breath when I untucked the blouse and skimmed his fingers over my bare stomach.

  “Touch me,” I whispered, so low that only Hellcat would hear. The little wretch made a disgusted sound, but didn’t launch into a diatribe, thank the goddess. That was a miracle in and of itself.

  I released Lorcan’s hand.

  He was very still for a moment, as his large hand palmed my stomach, warmer than it usually would have been, but still cool in comparison to my own temperature. I could barely feel his cold. Prickles of heat ran along my skin wherever we touched.

  A moment later, his fingers began a cautious trek across my skin, light touches at first, but growing bolder by the second. A sound caught in my throat when he ran a finger above my waistband, and then almost whined in disappointment when he didn’t dip it inside, or go for the button of my slacks. His hand traveled upward, tracking an almost ticklish path to the underside of one of my breasts.

  I had to remind myself where we were and who we were with more than once. Lorcan just… had a way of making everything but the two of us disappear.

  My magic grew with every teasing touch, and peaked along with my libido, and I tossed every shred of that desire into the spell. With a half-shout in Latin, I threw Lorcan’s aura as far away from me as possible, and simultaneously lunged forward, seeking the magic of the others.

  They were there, waiting and open.

  Some were more open than others. Poppy’s aura was wide open, glistening gold and smelling like honeysuckle and clover. It was remarkably easy to pluck a thread of it, draw it through the stuffed pig, who squealed with surprise as though I’d just tickled it. And the fact that I could manipulate Poppy’s magic meant the magic of the spell did recognize her power—it meant she could be included in the coven and that was a definite relief. Taking the line of Poppy’s magic, I moved to the next person in line. Astrid.

  Her aura was a blue-green and her power was brine and wind, something much cooler and level-headed than my own fiery brand of magic. The taste of saltwater glided over my tongue as I seized her power, pushed it through Yule, who nipped at the air, like he’d tasted it too. His tail was wagging.

  I moved on to Olga next.

  Her power was a dusky rose, lovelorn and a little weary. Her power smelled of male sweat, men’s cologne, and low, fervent whispers. She was self-conscious (because this was a very personal intrusion I was making—in essence, I was experiencing each person, tasting their innermost beings), and it made it harder to tease a little power out to be added to the ritual. She was doing her best, but it was still an effort. Franz made a slight sound of distress, padding in a little circle before settling on his owner’s lap again.

  Betanya was next in line, and her energy was similar to Astrid’s. Airy, with just a touch of blood. Roscoe’s death might have freed her, but some stains didn’t wash out. There’d be a smudge of blood on her soul, always.

  Charlie Ray stomped his feet with an exclamation of, “Dadgum!”

  I tried not to flinch when he raised his tail in the air and just hoped he had enough control not to spray us all down. Losing track of the spell now would mean another hour of preparation to try it again.

  It was Maverick who was the hardest to draw from.

  He was closed off, defensive even now. Distrust made him bitter. His power tasted and smelled of acrid smoke, cigarettes, and lies. He didn’t seem to know how to open up. The crack in his defenses was so minute, I had to press into him, crack the hole a little wider to get at that hard knot of his power. His owl familiar screeched, flaring her wings wide when I all but attacked her master.

  With another shouted word, I pulled the threads of power taut, bowing their owners forward. There was a collective gasp when I knotted them together, leaving Betanya’s tie just under mine. If I died during our trip to the assembly, I needed a successor. I trusted Betanya to lead the coven if I was gone.

  And then it was over.

  Lorcan let out a shuddering breath near my ear, drawing his hand back as the others opened their eyes. I felt colder when he wasn’t touching me.

  All at once, the candles extinguished themselves, and the magic evaporated back into the hallowed ground.

  “Did it work?” Lorcan asked.

  Poppy nodded, eyes huge in her face. She flexed her fingers around Piggy, who was making a rather pathetic and very real-sounding squeal. And that was when I realized Piggy... was now a real piglet. My magic... our magic... or maybe just Poppy’s new and improved abilities had transformed the stuffed animal into a real pig. Gepetto would have been proud.

  “Um,” Astrid said as she eyed the pig in Poppy’s lap.

  “I’m a real pig!” Piggy oinked.

  “I’m not sure what Finn’s going to think of this,” Poppy said in a monotone as she glanced down at Piggy, who was currently snorting.

  Astrid stood, beaming at me. Before I knew it, she’d crossed the circle and thrown herself into my arms. That pressed me even tighter against Lorcan, and I belatedly realized he’d been trying to hide his very obvious excitement during the ritual. He edged away from us, seizing his coat from where he’d laid it on top of a nearby tombstone so no one else would notice that his sausage was decidedly… excited.

  “Thank you!” Astrid exclaimed, squeezing me hard enough that something in my back popped. “Oh, thank you, Wanda! You did it and we’re a real coven now!”

  I wasn’t one for hugs, but I squeezed her back, smoothing a hand over her hair.

  It felt right.

  She was mine now, in more ways than blood could ever make us. I was her High Witch, and she was one of my wards and, honestly, I also thought of her in some weird way as the daughter I’d never had.

  I looked around at everyone I’d bound to myself and to each other. This was what it meant to truly be family.

  “Welcome to our coven, to Scapegrace,” I said with a smile.

  Chapter Seven

  My head was pounding by the time we reached Newark.

  By the ten-hour mark, I was beginning to wish we’d gone the flying route and taken our chances with airport security. Surely, we could have stuffed Lorcan into an overly large duffel bag and snuck him inside the cargo hold somehow? He could have kept Hellcat and the other familiars company down there. Doing so would also have had the added bonus of not having to hear Hellcat complain the entire way.

  I supposed I was fortunate I’d been driving the hearse off and on, instead of the Escalade. At least I didn’t have to deal with Darla’s constant chatter or Libby’s insistence that everyone sing like she had at youth camp in the forties.

  The only reason Darla and Libby had come along for the trip was because we were a little nervous about whether or not it would be damaging to them to be so far away from me. As far as I understood things, because I’d supplied their life power, they had to be close to me in order to live.

  Astrid had helpfully chimed in with a few ‘are we there yet’-s as a joke. As a mother, I imagined Poppy was steeled for that sort of thing. But as regarded Darla and Libby, I’d have probably murdered both nuisances at the halfway mark. I subscribed to the ‘raised you from the grave and I can put you back in it’ motto. Which was probably why it was a good thing I wasn’t a mother.

  We’d invited Marty to come along (mainly to drive), but he’d been busy with a ghost-hunting job that apparently was urgent. So, he’d said his goodbyes to Poppy and went on his merry way. Even though the two of them were dating, there was something about their relationship that didn’t strike me as long-lasting. I wasn’t exactly sure why that was, though—maybe because Poppy treated him the same way she always had—as her closest male friend?

  Poppy hadn’t felt comfortable bringing Finn along—she was nervous about so many witches in one place and wanted to keep her son safe, understandably. So Henner was staying at her house to keep an eye on Finn while we were gone.

  The hearse would have been peaceful if not for Hellcat and his constant mewling. Luckily, at the last stop, I’d booted Darla and Libby out so they were now riding with Poppy along with Astrid and the familiars, minus Hellcat. Now it was Betanya, Olga, Lorcan, Maverick and me.

  Betanya was quietly scribbling in her book of shadows, concocting a new spell, probably. Olga was knitting a scarf for Franz, apparently fascinated by Astrid’s uncanny ability to create her own intricate magical knotwork. Maverick had been staring moodily out the passenger’s side window the entire journey, not speaking, which suited me fine.

  Lorcan and I had mostly traded shifts driving, as he didn’t tire after dark. That meant we took turns in the coffin, the only sleeping space left in the hearse (of course, I slept with the top up). It had been bizarre to lay down in the silk-lined coffin and, as I did so, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to sleep in one every day. I’d always assumed it would be claustrophobic, but with the lid up it was actually comfortable.