Willow took off as if imps nipped at her heels, leaving Alistair with her mother.

“She’s a good girl. Smart. Pretty. Stubborn.”

“You don’t need to sell her to me,” Alistair replied. He already knew all those things. Plus the fact that she had a close-knit family. Very close. So tight, her daddy had whipped the football at him while casually announcing, “Hurt my daughter, I hurt you.”

Then the brothers, one by one, with wide smiles, also threatened him. In direct contrast to the mother, who thought they should sleep together.

He preferred the latter suggestion.

They took their leave, Willow emerging from the bowels of the house, refusing to meet his gaze and saying they should go.

She suffered, with rolled eyes, the bone-crunching hugs of her siblings and father, almost hit the floor with the bag of leftovers her mother bestowed upon her, then led the way out of the house.

A home, he corrected, full of love, and a surprisingly well-informed family.

Had the TDCM cut themselves off so much from the world that they truly were the last to know?

The car ride proved quiet as she whipped through the streets. Tension hung in the air, sexual tension, he’d wager, given her flushed cheeks.

“You have quite an interesting family,” he noted, not willing to remain quiet.

“I do.”

“Are your brothers and father witches like you?”

“Not quite. They have some magic, but they’re not into the whole potion and coven thing.”

“Do you have any more hidden siblings, or was that the lot of them?”

“That’s it for my immediate family. We won’t talk about my extended one.”

“Why? Family rift?” He knew all about those.

“You could say. Mom’s family disowned her for marrying my father. Daddy, on the other hand, was an only child.”

Which might explain the large family he’d created.

“I don’t have much of a family. Only my father is left.” The tidbit he revealed was surprising, given he rarely mentioned anyone related to him.

“That’s sad.”

“I guess. We aren’t close.” Understatement. Hard to maintain a relationship when those related to you wanted to kill you to move up in position.

“Yet you still followed in your dad’s footsteps. Your father is well known as an expert in things ancient and magical.”

“My knowledge was from curiosity, not the urge to emulate another.”

“I can understand that. I was always poking my nose into everything as a kid. I read all the time; whereas my brothers preferred action.”

“Who do they work for?” he asked.

“I can’t say.”

The reply surprised him. “What do you mean, you can’t say? Aren’t they employed by the coven?”

“Nope. If they were, they would have been reporting to me directly. I’m just lucky they like me enough to share.”

“Then who do they work for?”

“My answer of like fifteen seconds ago is still the same. I can’t say. But I will throw you a bone. The TDCM isn’t the only agency out there.”

Something more secretive than the wizards?

Now that shocked him.

They pulled into the warehouse district, and he noticed her tensing beside him. Night had fallen, a thick blanket of darkness and shadows where anything could hide, and from which predators liked to hunt.

“They won’t attack,” he said aloud.

“They? So you do think there’s more than one?”

“According to the mess found within your building, I believe we’re looking for at least three.”

“A hat trick of demons, and you’re telling me not to panic?” She snorted. “That’s like telling a gazelle to ignore a pride of hungry lions.”

“If she doesn’t bolt, then they won’t always attack.”

“If she doesn’t, she’s also baring her neck and saying ‘eat me.’”

He smiled at her words. “I would be delighted.”

“What? No,” she stammered. Quite flustered.

“Shame. Let me know if you change your mind.” A brazen speech from him. What happened to not getting involved with the witch?

I spent time with her.

He planned to spend even more. She had secrets. Alistair wasn’t a man to leave a secret alone.

Willow halted her car by her warehouse but didn’t stop her engine or get out. The unmarked TDCM vehicles from before had left. The containment field hiding their activity from passersby had dissipated, leaving just a forlorn building with only his truck out front.

Missing its tires.

“Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed, jumping out of the vehicle to run to it.

Upon first glance, he assumed human thugs. They would see his big new tires as a prize they could sell for a few hundred bucks easy.

But as he neared his truck, he sensed it. A tingle along his exposed skin. A subtle shift in the air.

We are not alone.

He’d no sooner thought it when the bloody witch exited her car and said, “Shame about your wheels. I’ll give you a ride to your place if you want, and you can call to have it towed.”

“Get in your car.” He barked the order as the air around him tightened, the tension in it almost palpable.

The very molecules wavered, and they stepped from the nothingness as they dropped the cloaks camouflaging their presence.

Five of them. A perfect squad.

Someone was getting desperate to eliminate him. First, the brazen daylight attack using peons. Now, a second one that might prove tricky.

He’d have to be fast. Sneaky. And not distracted.

Which meant Willow needed to move away. Yet the fool witch neared him. “Are you deaf? Those are demons.”

“I see that.”

What she didn’t see, apparently, was how dangerous they were.

“Hide behind me.”

A full-throated laugh met his request. “Not a chance.”

While he tried to get Willow to do the right thing, the demons got closer.

And closer.

They didn’t speak

They’d better not. It might be hard to explain how they knew him.

The demon with the burnt blue skin and tufts of dark brown fur—remnants of the animal he’d commandeered—stood on his hind legs. Intelligence shone from its eyes. Its mouth opened wide in a toothy grin. It was going to talk.

Alistair raised his hand and fired a magical missile of light. It speared the demon through the head, and it fell, uttering an oomph of surprise.

Of course, his preemptive act had the others rushing to take him down—but not talking. He could handle that. He fired another bullet-like missile, only to have the demon deflect it. The surprise move wouldn’t fool them again. At his first sally, they’d woven shields.

Even better, unlike the afternoon’s attack, this time, he faced more worthy adversaries. About time they showed him some respect.

Alistair pulled on the magic, making it become an extension of his arms, glowing blades that projected from the knuckles on either hand. They weren’t real knives in any sense, but they could deal devastating damage once he got past the shields. He’d have to hammer at them first.

He dove at the closest demon, shoving his weight into the attack, sending the male reeling. When the demon’s back hit the ground, he landed atop him and began to pummel the shield, feeling the magic bend under his blows.

He pounced off the demon body just as another slashed down with claws extended. The scrape of real claws against magic rivaled nails on chalkboard.

Screeee.

He spun and lashed out, trying to trip his attacker. Only to get tackled from behind.

There was no such thing as a fair fight with demons. He fought, finally breaking a sweat, unable to just lob magic like he could with most other species. Demons wielded magic like others breathed air. It was a part of them.

The only true way to kill them was by surprise, like he’d done to the first opponent, or through a battle of strength and skill, slugging and slashing, looking for a killing blow. But four against one weren’t great odds, he had to admit, as he got slammed to his knees.

He immediately staggered back up.

A vibration underfoot caused him to wobble.

What’s happening?

He ducked the slice of some claws and turned his head to see Willow behind him, holding a pair of demons at bay.

Actually, she held them in concrete, as in sunk to their waist, unable to extricate themselves.

She had her wand pointed at them.

“Finish them,” he shouted then grunted as a fist caught him in the ribs.

“I want to talk to them first,” she stated, tucking her wand under her arm and heading toward them.

Talk? No. No talking. Alistair could do nothing to stop her as a demon took him to the ground, its large, moist body landing atop his. Sliming him with its acidic saliva. It burned.

He heaved the other demon off, and then before it could recover, he stalked toward it, hammering it with short bursts of magic. The white light smashed against its body shield, pummeling it until it shattered.

The demon opened his mouth and said, “The legion—”

Flick. The ball of mauve fire engulfed him before he could finish his sentence.

The other one Alistair had been fighting tried to run.

Alistair threw out a lasso of magic and reeled him back in, looping the magical rope around and around and then pulling it taut. Squeezed tightly, the demon poofed. Gone from this plane, its host nothing but a pile of dust.

Alistair turned on Willow to see her in front of the demons.

And dammit, they were talking.