Clara and Violet must be settled in bed in the carriage house over the garage since I didn’t hear either poking around in the kitchen. Isadora and Livvy were still out of town. So that left Jules alone in the study. Good. I didn’t want an audience to the shit-storm I was about to start.

Before we reached the open doorway, I stopped abruptly. The rhythmic tune of her favorite pagan folk band with its bagpipes, flutes, drums, and Celtic harp floated into the hall. A good sign. If it was that Mongolian metal band with their throat singing about crushing their enemies, then I’d have pushed him back out of the house and tried this tomorrow.

With a deep breath, I glanced over my shoulder at the man standing a head taller and awfully close. “Don’t speak until I tell you to. Or she does.”

He ground that perfect jaw again. “Why not?”

“Because my sister is the one who doesn’t like to work with your kind. And she’s a Siphon.”

He flinched at that. Yeah. Siphons, also called Enforcers, were more powerful than Nulls, witches who could freeze a supernatural’s powers. Jules could do far more than freeze powers. She could take them all away. Permanently. A Siphon was also the one kind of witch who was more powerful than a centuries-old vampire. Hence, the reason our witch coven reigned in New Orleans and not Ruben Dubois, the overlord of the vampires in this district.

Visibly shaking, Mateo glanced toward the open doorway. A werewolf was cursed in a way that he couldn’t lose the beast roaming inside his blood no matter what. But he could lose the magic that comes with the werewolf curse. The added strength and speed, the longer life, and the creative gift that every werewolf was born with alongside their wolfish beastly needs.

I walked into my oldest sister’s sanctuary with a bright smile on my face, faking my light-hearted mood as best I could. She was tucked into her loveseat by the window, her knees bent, a book open on her upturned lap, a glass of red wine on the side table. Her gaze swiveled to the door, skimming right past me to the werewolf at my back.

I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay. Before you say anything, there’s a very good explanation for this.”

She didn’t move at first. Her steel-blue gaze dragged from Mateo to me then back to him. With forced indifference, she closed and set her book aside, then stood and crossed her arms. Of the six of us sisters, she was the shortest and the tiniest in stature. Her short, blunt bob softened the sharper edges of her high cheekbones and pointed chin. But it did nothing to tamp down the you’re dead glare she was giving me.

“Jules, this is Mateo. He’s a—”

“I know what he is. Why is he in our house?”

She’d dialed her maternal tone up to Defcon three. But at least she hadn’t reached screechy levels.

“He claims there’s a hex put on him keeping him from shifting.” I turned to him, his attention fixed on my sister. “How long has it been since you last shifted?”

“This will be the third month.” Some of the anguish was gone from his voice, though I wasn’t sure what was putting him more at ease. It certainly wasn’t my sister’s bitch queen impersonation.

Jules just stared and said not a damn thing, but I could see her hamster wheel working hard. She was debating whether to show him the door or hear him out. By some miracle, she chose the latter.

“Why do you believe this is a hex? And not a normal dormancy?”

He chuffed out a sound between a cough and a laugh. “I’ve heard of wolves going dormant, but in those cases, their beast became distant and quiet. Mine most definitely is not.”

His eyes flared that fiery gold again, but he kept his posture non-threatening.

“How so?” she asked coolly.

“I have…primitive urges.”

I barely contained another shiver at his heated admission. And yes, he’d growled every word. He also seemed to be holding something back.

“Jules,” I started, turning serious. “He struggled to control his violence just now in the bar with a customer who bumped into him. More so than I’d say is normal for werewolves. Though I admittedly know none.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he protested. “This feels like, I don’t know, like I have a block. Like my wolf wants to come out, but something is keeping him inside. It’s not natural. A hex is the only explanation.”

“He’s a danger to the public,” I added. “And if we don’t at least try to help him, then we’re as much at fault as he is. If something should happen.”

I let Jules infer whatever that something could be. He was totally staring at me, but I refused to look at him.

“And what do you sense?” she asked me.

This was where it got tricky. “I don’t know for sure.” When he grabbed me in the bar, I felt something, though I couldn’t place what it was.

“You probed him then?”

“Not very deep,” I answered softly, hardly able to admit that I’d actually been afraid of him in the bar. There was no way I was about to ask him to gaze into my eyes and let me step inside his mind while he was trying to strangle one of our patrons. Telling Jules the truth wouldn’t help me sway her to our side at the moment.

“Try again,” she commanded, nodding toward Mateo. “Here.”

Alrighty then. I stepped up to face Mateo and blew out a deep breath. Bending my arms at the elbows, I reached out. “Hold your arms like this and grip mine.”

He didn’t question why, but obeyed quickly. Smart werewolf. When we locked arms, the surge of heat emanating from his body rippled through my fingertips and palms.

Locking on his brown eyes, which flickered fiery gold, I pressed my magic forward. Gently. Very gently. Even so, a rumble stirred in his chest, a rough growl tingling along my senses. And while I knew it was a warning to be careful, I couldn’t prevent the delicious sensation it piqued on every nerve ending in my body. Like a lightning zap, it electrified my insides, spreading goosebumps along my skin.

“Easy,” I whispered like I would to an injured or scared animal. “I just want to take a look.”

That’s essentially what I did when I probed for hexes. With finger-light brushes, I slid my magic inside him, seeking out the foreign magic. Usually, I could identify what kind of hex and from what kind of witch a spell had been cast on another person.

Sometimes, it wasn’t even cast on the person who was hexed, but had ricocheted off someone near them. That was rare, but it did happen. In those instances, I couldn’t always pinpoint the spell, but I could still pull it out and evaporate the magic.

As I swept deeper inside him, I felt…resistance. It wasn’t just a block, a walled-up spell from another witch, but more like a push. I didn’t sense the telltale signs of a hex—the electric spray of foreign magic that didn’t belong. I sensed the presence of a powerful being—his wolf—and an invisible fence around him, but also another aura pushing me away.

It was so weird. Hexes didn’t typically work that way. They weren’t usually aggressive in nature. Just there. Like an object set on a table. Whoever had put this object on Mateo’s table had added something extra to the spell. I didn’t like the feel of it.

When Mateo’s growl rumbled deeper, I let go and took a step back. Not because I was afraid, but because I didn’t want to anger the beast.

For a second, all I could do was stare at Mateo. His gaze shimmering with gold slowly melted back to that cocoa brown. His chest rose and fell more quickly, but there was no sign of violence or anger. Just a look of wonder, actually.

“Well?” asked Jules.

Dragging my attention back to her, I said, “There’s definitely something there. But I can’t pinpoint what kind of hex it is or what kind of witch put it there, if even on purpose. It’s very…unusual.” I glanced from her to Mateo. “To be honest, I think it may be that I’m just not familiar with werewolves and their magic. It’s easy for me to do this with humans, other witches, and even vampires. I think maybe your inner…wolf is pushing me out for some reason.”

Mateo huffed out a laugh with zero humor attached to it. “I don’t think my wolf is pushing you out.” His intense gaze pierced me with what I could only surmise was the hard truth. That meant we were dealing with a hex I’d never encountered before.

Jules looked over at her bookshelves, filled with just about every damn book ever written on supernaturals—from historical origins, to the Spanish Inquisition witch-hunts, to craft, spells, and talismans. She didn’t walk over and pluck one off the shelf like I knew she wanted to, but stared hard for a full three minutes. Then she swiveled back to Mateo, and I knew she’d made her decision.

“Do you know of anyone who means you harm? Holding a grudge against you?”

He combed a hand through his hair in frustration, disheveling it even further. “No.”

“It’s not our custom to work with werewolves,” she said in her usual, matter-of-fact tone.

He flinched. Still calm, he sucked in a deep breath, then said, “Yes. Evie said as much.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands curled at his sides. “But I’m only a danger if this hex isn’t broken.”

“I see that.” Her admission shocked me. Jules was a stick-to-your-guns kind of gal. She stepped closer, arms still crossed but loosened and hanging lower at her waist. “I don’t know that we can help you, but I trust my sister. If she says you’re a safety hazard, then I believe her. I’d like to do some research and get back to you.” She angled her head at me. “Evie will have to do some of her own research as well.”

“Thank you.” He exhaled a ragged breath, then turned to me, his expression gutting in its intensity. “Thank you.”

The thank you he gave me was deeper and more passionate. More personal. It came from both the man and the wolf, I was sure of it.

Shaking off a shiver before it became visible, I said, “I’ll see you out.” I spun for the door before Jules changed her mind, then guided him back down the hall, through the front door, and to the gate.