Kristof stared at him for a moment. Then he lifted a finger and signaled the bartender. “Excuse me. Two more of whatever he just had.”

Neither of them spoke while they waited. A few minutes later, the bartender slid matching vodka shots across the bar. Kristof waved Darius off and paid for them both. They each sipped wordlessly.

Kristof was the first to break the silence. “Are you sure that was wise?”

Darius sighed. “No. But he was the only person I could think of who didn’t have some kind of angle in this thing.”

Kristof’s eyes were hard. “He’s a Catholic. They always have an angle.”

“And what would that be?” Darius took a heavier sip, sucked in a breath as the vodka blazed a fiery trail down his throat. “So a coven of witches gets murdered. No harm no foul, as far as they’re concerned. Different circus, different monkeys.”

“I can’t believe you just said that.” Kristof stared at him. His face looked ready to crack. “Did you hear yourself just now?”

“I’m not saying I feel the same way.” Darius fingered the rim of his glass. “You know I don’t. I’m just saying out of all the people I’ve talked to so far, Father Gregory was the only one who didn’t have some kind of agenda.”

Kristof’s lips thinned. “You think I have an agenda.”

“Don’t sound so hurt. It’s not like I blame you. This whole thing is a shit storm in the making, and you and yours are right in the middle.” Darius met his eyes. “Whatever you’ve got going on, I just wish you’d tell me. Maybe I could help.”

Kristof barked out a surprised laugh. “Who are you, and what have you done with Darius deCompostela? Seriously, did you just offer to get involved in subversive business?” He peered at him a little closer. “Maybe Georgia Clare really did put a spell on you.”

###

Season Of The Witch is coming soon! Meanwhile, pop over and add it to your Goodreads TBR list now!