The lovely redhead—that he’d tracked down with ease given her name was in the files he’d taken over—blinked for a moment, her dark lashes framing her lovely clear, green eyes.

“Excuse me, but I thought Morfeus was in charge.”

“He was.” Alistair smiled. “But he’s not anymore.”

“But how? Why?” Her brow knit, but she still looked stunning. What a stroke of luck that this beauty was related to the very case he’d been put in charge of.

“In the wizarding world, it is not uncommon for the highest-ranking person of any group to automatically take charge.”

“You’re a wizard?” She sounded quite surprised.

Then again, he didn’t look like the classic ones gallivanting about with airs of grandeur—and strong delusion. He didn’t wear robes. He wasn’t crazy about suits either.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I am one of the strongest practitioners you will meet.”

“And not conceited at all,” was her sarcastic reply.

His lips quirked. “It’s not conceited to state a verifiable truth. But I didn’t come here to discuss my qualifications.”

“Why are you here?”

“To take you to dinner.”

She offered him a flat stare that said she didn’t buy it. Smart woman. She wouldn’t be easily swayed by flattery. He didn’t mind a challenge.

“Your name came up as I was going over the files gathered related to the possible demon sightings—”

“No possible about it. I saw them with my own eyes.”

“Which is why I wanted to speak with you.”

“Why should I talk to you? Morfeus and his cronies made it very clear my opinion and aid weren’t welcome.”

“Morfeus is a moron. I am looking for the truth, and that involves speaking to everyone involved.”

“Even a lowly witch?”

“I wouldn’t call you lowly.” Curvy, sexy, and distracting, yes.

“Don’t say that around the TDCM.”

“I will say what I please. The fact that some of my colleagues are narrow-minded doesn’t mean we all are. Some of us recognize that witchcraft has its place in the world. It can also be quite useful. Most wizards won’t admit it, but you are capable of magic they aren’t.”

Her nose scrunched up. “I find that hard to believe.”

“All the races, humans included, have something in their makeup. Call it an aptitude, or even more scientifically, a genome that changes how they do things, like magic. An elf has a greater ability to grow and heal things because of their affinity with nature. The shamans of the seas can do incredible feats with water.”

“And what of human witches? What’s our specialty?”

“You bring science and technology to your magic. Who do you think first invented potions?” He arched a brow.

“We did?” She frowned. “How come I’ve never heard this before?”

“Because then those who created the archaic rules would have to admit that witches deserve more respect.”

“Did you get beaten up a lot at school?” she suddenly asked.

“No. Why?”

“Because you’re spouting some awfully radical stuff. Mr…” she prompted him.

He smiled. “I am Alistair Fitzroy.”

“The Fitzroy? The great archeologist and linguistic expert?”

“His son, actually. But striving for the same greatness.” Not entirely true. He was already much more learned than Fitzroy senior; however, that kind of boast usually didn’t go over well.

“Why does the TDCM need you?”

“To translate, of course.”

At that, her nose wrinkled. “Translate what? As far as I know, the possessed spoke perfect English. I never heard any mention of incomprehensible speeches being babbled. They didn’t leave any notes or manifestos.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re mistaken. It would appear you were not informed of what they found by the site of the Peabody crater.”

“They found something?” Her eyes shone with curiosity. “What?”

“Join me for dinner if you want to find out.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“Yes.”

He could see she was tempted. So very, very tempted.

“Would it help if I said I’m making the TDCM pay for our very expensive meal?”

Her lips twitched. “It might.”

“Then come. You choose the place.”

“Why do you want to share information with me?”

“I told you before. I think it was shortsighted of them to boot you off the team. I’d like to rectify that.”

“You want me to work with you.” She said it with a note of incredulity.

“I do.” Very closely, as a matter of fact.

She peeked down at her mauve outfit, the flouncy skirt and matching top bright. “I’m not really dressed to go out.”

“Then we’ll do something casual. Or, if you’d prefer, we can grab something and go back to my hotel room for”—privacy and a bed—“an uninterrupted chat.”

She laughed. “Oh, that’s a good one. Tease me with information while trying to lure me to your room. I’m not that gullible.”

“It was merely a suggestion. We can also stay somewhere public.”

“Very public.”

“If you insist.”

“And I am following you in my car.”

So many precautions, then again, given the rarity of women in this time, he could understand. Despite females of childbearing years being precious, their very rareness made them a commodity and a thing that others coveted.

She needn’t worry with him. For all he found her absolutely delectable, he wasn’t interested in her physical aspects.

Willow, the witch, had something else he wanted to get his hands on. He just had to get her to trust him enough so he could get closer and achieve his objective.

However, his cause took a major blow when he saw the thing she called a car.

His laughter was not appreciated.