Page 30 of Wolves’ Witch

Gaharet nodded. “Remi mentioned it when he came for the turning potion.”

Edmond poured wine into three goblets and handed one to Aubert. “Two score or more of her chevaliers surrounded us.”

Gaharet tugged at his beard. “Mm. It is well you used the amulets. The comtesse’s relationship with Lothair is strained, but she is still his wife. We cannot afford to be at war with her. It might test his loyalty to us.”

Aubert glanced at Gaharet over his wine goblet. “Too late.”

Gaharet’s gaze sharpened. “How so?”

“They came looking for us at our keep. We hid out in Constance’s hut, but he came for us there, too.” Edmond offered Isobella a goblet of wine. She waved him off. “Then we tried to lose them in the forest, but a small group ambushed us. We left a half score of them dead.”

Gaharet’s eyebrows shot up. “They ambushed you? In the forest?”

“Faucher is a sensitive,” grumbled Aubert.

A sensitive? As in…?

Gaharet straightened in his seat. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” the twins said in unison.

Isobella remembered the uneasy feeling she’d had as they’d slipped away from Constance’s cottage. The way Faucher had seemed to see right through the shadows of the trees. How he’d ordered the chevaliers from House Allard to search right where they’d been only moments before. And Faucher had never been far behind them, despite Aubert and Remi’s attempts to lead them off course. Had Faucher been able to sense them?

“That explains Faucher’s success. And presents another challenge for us.” Gaharet turned his attention to the other witch at the table. “Constance, I am of the understanding one born with the ability to sense other supernatural beings would have to have been born into a family with at least one witch.”

“Yes,” said Constance, “you are correct. That ability, like my second sight, is a trait found only among witches and their families.”

“Faucher’s family has connections to the pontiff,” said Ulrik. “To think he has a witch ancestor somewhere…”

Gaharet steepled his hands on the table. “It is an intriguing conundrum.”

Edmond shrugged. “I guess all families have their secrets.”

Hiding his witch ancestry while he hunted those of his own kind was a big secret, especially for a bishop. One with connections to the Pope. Yet, as Isobella’s coven had proved, not all witches were on the same side.

“Then,” said Gaharet, leaning forward, “it might behoove us to uncover all of Faucher’s.”

“Faucher’s not our only problem,” said Aubert.

A quirk of an eyebrow from Gaharet.

“They have a witch and a warlock with them,” said Edmond. “And the witch is a powerful one. It could be possible she has a familial connection to Faucher.”

Cordelia connected to Faucher? It could explain why she was working with the Faucherians in the twenty-first century. It didn’t explain why she was here. Now. The last witch Isobella would’ve wanted to encounter.

Isobella took in the faces at the table. All but one of them were werewolves. Half of them battle-experienced chevaliers. One a witch with the second sight. But they had no idea what they were up against. She cleared her throat, drawing the attention of Gaharet d’Louncrais. “Not just any witch. Cordelia King.”

Edmond searched her face. “You know of this witch, Isobella?”

Erin leaned forward. “Did you say…Cordelia?”

“Ah…yes,” confirmed Isobella. “Does that name mean something to you?” The Langeais wolves had mentioned Cordelia had been a thorn in their side for centuries, but how far back were they talking here? As far back as the tenth century?

“It does,” confirmed Gaharet.

“Gascon,” Erin called a thin, balding servant over. “Can you get the kitchen staff to bring up some food, please? We could be here for a while. And see to it that rooms are prepared for our guests.”

Gascon bowed and disappeared.

“We’ve found mention of Cordelia in Gaharet’s father’s journal,” explained Erin. “Twice so far. In Gaharet’s great grandfather’s time. And again, in his grandfather’s time, when she was the healer in the d’Louncrais village. They cast her out after she killed a villager. She’s also Constance’s grandmother, and we believe she can travel through time.”

Grandmother? Constance’s eyes—one blue, one green—so like Cordelia’s, held a softness Isobella would never have associated with the King’s matriarch.

“How do you know of this Cordelia, Isobella?” asked Gaharet. “Is she someone these Langeais descendants you spoke of told you about?”

Isobella cringed. It pained her to admit the truth. “Unfortunately, yes.” She glanced at Edmond. “I do know Cordelia King.” She turned to Gaharet. “And no, we knew of Cordelia King before the Langeais wolves came on the scene. I’m sorry to say”—she shifted uncomfortably in her seat—“Cordelia’s a member of our coven.”