Taking him to my parents’ place was a risk. For one, we’d just been attacked. What if I led some bad guys there?

My brothers would probably thank me. Given that usually one or more of the six of them came for dinner every night, chances were good I’d have backup if we were attacked again.

Not that I truly needed extra help. Alistair seemed more than capable of handling danger. It made the man super sexy. But still off-limits.

Mother, however, wouldn’t care about that. I could already see the gears in her head working.

I’d brought a man to the house. I never did that, mostly because I wanted them to call me again and not run the other way when they saw me next. My family could be a bit much.

So why had I brought Alistair? It wasn’t as if I considered him serious boyfriend material. He’d make an awesome lover, I’ll bet, though.

Yet he could never be anything more because I didn’t think I could trust him.

There was something sly about him. Mysterious. Since subtle prying wasn’t my forte—I preferred bluntness and was often compared to a bull in a china shop—I’d let my mother wheedle secrets out of him. He would probably fight it, but by dessert—something hand-crafted and decadent—he’d collapse like a house of cards.

No one could resist my mama’s cooking.

Entering my childhood home, you’d never know the place used to be a chaotic nightmare of running shoes, jackets, and book bags strewn all over. The scuffed wood floors used to bear the marks of boys running through the house, sometimes in their cleats. The walls always appeared dingy with handprints and scrapes.

That had all changed the day Mama shoved her last baby bird from the nest. And I mean shoved.

Once college was done, she had us out applying for jobs every day, and as soon as we got our first paycheck, she evicted us. Then demanded we return for dinner at least once a week, more being preferable.

The house transformed after we left. Now when you walked in, there was white marble tile—spotless, without a speck of mud—and a closet, with hangers for coats. The sideboard table held a basket, and the rule was, if you wanted food, drop the phone in it.

I pulled mine from my pocket and tossed it in. When Alistair didn’t copy, I leaned in and muttered, “There is a no-phone rule during dinner.”

“Really?” His brows arched; however, he smiled as he yanked his cell out and tossed it with nonchalance into the basket with the others. “How refreshing to go back to simpler times where entertainment came from actual interaction.”

Mother must have heard. She didn’t reply, but I noted the way her head tilted.

A scheming tilt, I should add.

The main floor no longer had walls separating the spaces. Dad had torn those out. The ceiling was now vaulted, exposed thick beams running across, and in between the stained wood, white drywall, bearing recessed pot lighting. Very modern and chic just like the white stone fireplace with its gas insert.

Gas, not wood. My parents had become so civilized with age.

Would the same thing happen to me?

Bypassing the immaculate couch set, not covered by a sheet to hide the holes and stains, we hit the open-space kitchen. Mother had no upper cabinets along the back wall, just a window running from the countertop to the ceiling overlooking the oasis they’d made of the yard.

The almost one-acre property, deeper than it was wide, no longer boasted a dirt track with humps for stunts. I’d bet the neighbors breathed a sigh of relief when we moved out. We weren’t exactly quiet children growing up.

“Can I offer you a drink?” Mother asked, giddy with excitement but remembering her manners. “Beer, cocktail, iced tea. Freshly made, of course.”

“Iced tea, please.”

I didn’t bother putting in my order; Mother knew what I liked. Perhaps she could explain why I kind of liked Alistair.

There he sat on a stool, looking relaxed and at ease. In my kitchen. With my mother. Alistair had yet to bolt or devise an excuse to leave. I was a little surprised. Most wizards wouldn’t have deigned to cross our threshold. Associate with mere humans? Perish the thought. Yet, here he was, a man high in the order, politely conversing with my mom.

Why? This wouldn’t advance our demon case. Surely, he had other places to be. Things to attend to.

Then again, so did I. I should be finding out what happened to the warehouse. As well as helping Kal with the task of contacting my coven members to ensure that they got to safety. I hoped they heeded the warning, especially since night was about to fall.

With the dark came the true danger.

“So you’re working with Willow?” Mother finally deviated from topics like the weather and the flowers in her garden to tackle the real stuff.

Perching on a stool, I leaned in to nibble off the platter of appetizers she’d set out.

Yes, appetizers. A great big tray of them. Yet, so far, despite the blue car in the driveway, I’d yet to see a brother, or even my dad for that matter.

As I crunched into a mini quiche, Alistair verbally danced with my mother.

“Yes, ma’am.” Ooooh, look at him being all polite.

“Please, call me Ann.”

“And you must call me Alistair. Your daughter has graciously agreed to help me with a case.”

More like bullied.

“She’s a smart girl. Reckless sometimes.” My mother…praising, yet at the same time, humbling—in a single breath.

“Sometimes chances have to be taken to get the job done.”

Nice one.

“Are you from around here?”

A subtle poke.

“No. I’m actually from Europe.”

“Your English is impeccable.”

No sign of an accent. Did he speak more than one tongue? Say like French?

He casually leaned an arm on the counter. His lips tugged into a partial smile. “I went to a very good school.”

“Majoring in?” Mother probed.

Alistair played tight with his answers, but Mother could be more tenacious than a terrier, yet so cute while doing it.

About the same height as me but more rounded. “Seven kids will do that to a woman,” she liked to exclaim. But my daddy loved her curves, so it was never an issue.

Mom always wore a smile, now at least. When we were kids, she swung between grins and scowls. To be fair, we usually earned those scowls. As mentioned, we weren’t exactly a quiet bunch. Nor were we bad. We did have a lot of energy to expend, though, and not all of it constructive.

“Should I perhaps forward you my resume?” A naughty glint entered his eyes, not a magical one, but one borne of mischief.

Uh-oh, was he seriously going to mess with my mom?

This would be good. I grabbed a handful of kettle chips and slid the ramekin of dip closer.

“I don’t think a resume is necessary. You can summarize the main points, I’m sure.” Mother didn’t back down.

He laughed. “Forgive me for being lax.” He gestured with a hand. “I am Alistair Fitzroy. Thirty-seven years of age—”

A little bit older than me.

“I was born in Brisbane, England. But only lived there for the first year. Then I resided in Italy for the next thirteen years of my life. I’ve been to France, Germany, and even did a stint in Australia.”

“And now you are here, in the USA, doing important things.” I threw that out there and earned a twitch of the nose from my mother.

Don’t interrupt the process.

“What are your qualifications?” Mama interrogated.

“My linguistics skills,” he said with a pointed look at Mama, “came about as part of my studies at Oxford.”

“Oxford? But—” I bit my tongue before asking why he hadn’t attended a school for wizards. Mother didn’t know he was a wizard, and as far as the world was concerned, they were only something seen in movies and dungeons and dragons games.

“But what?” he said, his lips curved in a mocking smile. “Oxford is an excellent school.”

“For humans.” Mother saved me. She didn’t look at Alistair as she wiped imaginary crumbs from the counter. “You’re not human.”

“What am I then?” he asked, not at all perturbed by my mother’s assessment.

“Your aura is interesting, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the like.” Mom glanced at him, her eyes slightly out of focus. “But if I had to guess, I’d say wizard.”

He shot me a glance. “I didn’t know your mother was a witch.”

“Not a witch.” Her lips twitched. “But I do know things.”

And now that his secret was out in the open, I could ask the question bubbling at my lips. “If you went to Oxford, how did you learn magic?” Because his studying at a human school made no sense. My understanding was, to be considered a wizard, with all the rights and power it entailed, you had to study at an approved facility.

“I have what you might call a natural aptitude for wielding magic. I also had a very educated wizard father who ensured that I was properly trained from a young age. It allowed me to skip the usual methods.”

“And the Magi Council accepted that?” I couldn’t help a skeptical note.

Again, he flashed white teeth. “Oh, they didn’t receive me easily. I had to go in front of the High Council of Magi and submit myself to a rigorous battery of magical tests. I passed them all. When I proved that I was as good as and, in many ways, better than their graduates, they had no choice.” His smile widened, and, yes, it was cocky, but he wore it well.

“A powerful wizard, in my house. Goodness,” Mother exclaimed, fanning herself. It was beautifully done. An outsider would sense the mockery, yet not be able to pinpoint it.

Alistair didn’t miss a beat. “I hear your daughter is a strong witch. Did she inherit from you?”

Mama tittered. “Me, birth a witch? I think she got most of her handy potion skills from her father.”

I had. But…

That was when Papa entered. A dapper man in his sixties now, he had grown out his hair and his beard. He also wore pressed khakis and collared shirts.

My dad, the yuppie version of Gandalf.

“What did I do?” he boomed. A big man, my daddy towered over most people.

Not Alistair. He stood and met my dad, hand outstretched.

“Alistair Fitzroy. A pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“He’s working with Willow. On a case.” The subtle intonation my mother gave the words made me roll my eyes. Way to divulge that I sometimes spilled about my work to family.

Then again, they had a right to know what might murder me. Daddy didn’t like things that could kill his little girl.

“What kind of progress are you making on the demon incursions?” Where mother subtly pulled, Daddy smashed.

It was a neat combination. Guess who I took after?

Alistair’s gaze narrowed. “We’re working on a solution.”

“While you’re all dithering around, witches, like my Willow, are being targeted.”

“The TDCM is doing what it can.”

“In other words, diddly-squat.” Daddy didn’t mince words. “Bunch of textbook boobs, they lack an imaginative brain among them. But I guess they can’t help that seeing as being a wizard handicaps them.”

Alistair’s mouth snapped shut.

My daddy brushed past us to drop a noisy kiss on Mother’s cheek. He might look like a yuppie version of a fantasy wizard, but inside, he was a boisterous soul.

I heard the front door open and a voice.

“Where’s Willy? I saw her car out front.”

Pivoting on my stool, I tossed my brother Rowan a wave. “Hey. Come on over and say hi to a bona fide Grande Mago.” No point in hiding Alistair’s status anymore. He was about to realize that my family was a little more learned than most.

“Him, a Grande Mago?” Rowan snorted, his big shoulders shaking. “As if. He’s too young to be a pompous ass.”

“Language,” mother barked.

A grin lit Rowan’s face. “Sorry, Ma.”

He would be if he swore again and she heard him. Mother wasn’t too old to tackle his ass and wash his mouth out with soap. It helped that the boys didn’t move or twitch when she did it. Daddy would have killed them if they acted against my mom.

“You must be Willow’s brother.” Alistair introduced himself. While Alistair wasn’t quite as big as my dad, he did match Rowan for size.

“So how’s the demon hunt thing coming along?”

I might have winced as my brother dove right in.

“He probably can’t talk about it. Who knows what would happen if the masses found out about the demons. Why, they might get guns and other weapons to defend themselves.” My mother wielded her sarcasm as she whipped a roast out of the oven while flipping in some buns and solving world peace.

Okay, she didn’t do the last bit, but she could if you gave her a big enough kitchen and a megaphone.

If Alistair was shocked by my family’s verbal attacks, he didn’t show it. “There is no reason to panic. There have only been a few incidences.”

“If by few, you mean seventeen,” Oak declared, entering the kitchen from the hall.

“Seventeen?” Alistair’s brow creased. “I think you’re mistaken.”

I snared a few carrots to crunch on as I moved to the table set with a full ten-place setting. The table could have handled more. Mama liked entertaining.

“Your office probably doesn’t know about thirteen of them. Not everyone enjoys sharing with the TDCM.”

Just like a wizard, he fell back on the rules they were so fond of. “The treaties between the groups state full cooperation on matters that cross boundaries.”

By boundaries, he referred to the species one. If something happened that could affect another group, they were bound by law to tell the others.

However, each group kind of made their own decisions on what to tell or not. “Cooperation between the species has always been an issue.”

“What makes you think your incidences are related to the demon matter? Seventeen is a rather high number considering we’ve only registered four confirmed cases.”

“Because you’re not looking.” Yeah, I couldn’t help the jab. I was having fun watching the usually calm and collected Alistair scramble.

“Speculation says we’ll be at nineteen cases by tomorrow,” my brothers Banyan and Ash declared. The twins walked in, just in time to sit down as the platters of meat hit the table.

Thick slices of roast beef, all the kinds you could like from well-cooked crust, to barely pink, very pink, and still cherry red.

I liked mine pink, and I speared a piece before handing the fork to Alistair.

As we ladled food, introductions were made. Again.

At times, I wondered if it wouldn’t be easier to just wait and do it once after everyone filtered in.

When the eating began, Alistair was the one asking questions. “What’s the evidence you have linking the cases?”

Impressive. He appeared to sincerely want information rather than pulling a pompous dick move and insisting they spill and desist from all other actions. The TDCM honestly thought they were the only ones qualified to deal with magical issues.

Personally, I sometimes felt they were the most unqualified to do so.

Once again, Alistair appeared different from all the other wizards I knew. For one, he didn’t call me something derogatory. No hearth witch nickname or the more derogatory broom bitch. If they were really trying to be funny—and asking for a throat punch—they liked to ask if my pussy needed a rub.

Let them laugh and mock all they wanted. I knew the truth. They were no better than me.

In between inhaling food, Banyan replied, “If you mean evidence like folks getting torn apart, then, yeah, we’ve got some.”

“It’s not just the demons,” Alistair argued. “Lycans, trolls, actually a whole host of other creatures could be responsible.”

“Except they’re not just mauling and eating them; they’re sucking out the magic.” Oak raised his gaze to Alistair’s. “That’s demonic activity.”

“And it’s not just witches being eaten, which has been all the TDCM has covered thus far,” Rowan stated before devouring a tiny loaf of bread.

“We’ve gotten word of a flight of fairies getting gutted. A mermaid. Two non-practicing elves. And more.”

If Alistair looked doubtful before, that had changed. He now bore a most serious mien. “Are the locations of the incidences you’re mentioning relatively close to one another?”

Banyan shook his head. “They’re happening across the country, and those are just the ones we’re one hundred percent positive about.”

It appeared my brothers had been industrious. Just not busy sharing the info.

I drummed my nails on the table. “And why is it that I’m just now hearing of this? What happened to reporting to me when you got the goods?”

“We would have if you ever showed up for dinner,” Rowan retorted.

“I’ve been busy.” Working. Still managing to call my mother but avoiding the gatherings. Mostly because I was tired of showing alone.

Never mind that my brothers usually didn’t bring their girlfriends around, I could almost see the disappointment in my mother’s eye that her only daughter wasn’t settling down. She wanted to give me a princess wedding. I’d never admit it aloud, but I kind of wanted it, too.

Would Alistair make a good husband? It couldn’t happen, not with a wizard, but I did wonder.

Would he be an attentive partner or a distant one? A day ago, I might have had an answer, now…I had to wonder.

I glanced at Alistair as he conversed with my six brothers, Sylvan and Linden having arrived and jumped right in. Late as usual, and together. We rarely saw the twins apart.

Alistair turned his head and caught me staring at him. I felt an unusual heat rise to my cheeks and turned away, only to discover Mom watching me.

Oh, shit.

I tried to engage after that, grilling my brothers for more info—where, how, and why the murders had happened. Apparently, they’d all just returned from their trips, and they promised me reports.

The gist? Various places with no rhyme or pattern, the victims ripped apart and eaten, their magic gone.

The news was both good and bad. It meant that witches weren’t the only things on the demons’ menu. With more of the supernatural population impacted, it was more likely we’d see forces marshaled to combat the problem.

The bad news was, there was more than just one demon, which meant multiple soft spots between our worlds. So many doorways for them to spill through.

This could be the start of a war.

Speaking of wars…I fought my own skirmish after dinner.

Round one: dodge the mommy who wants grandkids.

“So, he seems nice,” Mother said when it was just the pair of us in the kitchen, the boys having gone outside.

“We’re work partners, nothing else.” Not yet.

Not ever! Why did I keep having to remind myself?

“Why did you bring him?”

“We were hungry.”

“Plenty of restaurants around.”

“But none have food as good as yours.” Yeah, I buttered her up.

Mom saw right through it and snorted. “You wanted me to check him out.”

I shrugged as I dried a plate and put it away. “Maybe. He’s hiding something.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“I don’t know if I can trust him.”

“Why does it matter if you’re not planning to date him?”

“Because I want to know he has my back in a fight.”

“Judging by your clothes and stench, I’d say you already know he does.”

My mother could be too damned perceptive at times. “He’s not what he seems.”

“And that bothers you because you like him.”

“No.” We both heard the lie. “It doesn’t matter if I do. You know the rules. Wizards and witches don’t mix.”

“You know what I think of rules.” Mother drained the sink and then turned to lean against the counter, ignoring the men outside tossing a football. Never mind that we had a demon situation. They were out in the yard, almost daring one to come. Knowing my brothers, they were really hoping a demon would be stupid enough.

“It’s not just the rules, Mom. I have responsibilities. I need to take care of the coven.”

“Being a leader doesn’t mean you get to ignore your needs. I’ve seen how you look at him. You’re attracted to him.”

“A little.”

“If you are, then there’s no harm in indulging.”

“Are you seriously telling me to have a one-night stand?”

“I’m saying to stop being so damned responsible and perhaps do something for yourself for once. Have sex with Alistair. It might do you some good.”

Not too shocking in and of itself. It was realizing that Alistair had entered the kitchen and heard my mother that had me fleeing.

“Gotta pee.” I ran past him, cheeks hot. But even hotter? The blood coursing through my veins.

Could I be so selfish and do something just for pleasure?

Why not?