Free Witch & Curse by Nancy Holder, Debbie Viguié

opportunity. If he could have managed it without raising suspicion, she’d be dead already.
    â€œIs it true?” Jer demanded. He narrowed his eyes. “What else have you kept from me?”
    Michael turned away, making a sudden decision.
Holly Cathers is coming here. This boy might be the one who has what it takes, not me or Eli. I could put her in thrall to him, make her the Lady to his Lord
.
    And then I’ll make sure he’s always in thrall to
me.
    â€œI’m going to San Francisco,” he informed his son. “I’ll be gone for a few days.”
    â€œDon’t you walk away from me! I want to know!” Jer shouted at his back. “Who are we? What are we?”
    Michael chuckled to himself. “You know what we are, Jeraud. You’ve always known. We’re warlocks, and we’re allied with the Dark. We’re what is commonly referred to as evil.”
    â€œYou liar!” Jer roared.
    A bolt of crackling green energy whipped past Michael and hit the wall, scorching the trailing ivy wallpaper. Michael was impressed that his son hadharnessed such strong magical power. But he was also a lousy shot.
    Slowly he pivoted around, gazing coolly at his child. He channeled force into his own facial features, his bones, even the cells of his hair. The transformation gave him added strength and an air of authority.
    â€œDo not forget,” he said in a low voice, “that I am your father.”
    Jer pursed his lips and swung out of the kitchen. Michael stayed where he was, listening to Jer’s footfalls on the stairs, then down the hallway, and then into his room. His bedroom door slammed so hard, the kitchen windows rattled.
    Michael walked calmly to the pantry and opened it. Its walls were brick, its shelves unfinished oak. On the right side of the third row of shelves, he pulled out a false brick that was nothing but a piece of facing. In the hollow space behind it, he pulled out a carved jade box.
    In the box lay the preserved eye of an Ottoman Turk, a souvenir from the Crusades. The Deveraux House had sent many second and third sons in an effort to win even greater glory.
    Michael spoke ancient Arabic over the eye, then held it up and stared into its shriveled brown iris. In itstissue, he saw a clear reflection of his son’s movements upstairs in his room.
    Jer was pacing and muttering. He stopped, lay down on his bed, punched the pillow, and sighed.
    Michael watched him for about a minute longer.
He can be molded. I can use him to get exactly what I want: ultimate control of the Supreme Coven. Why didn’t I see it before? Why did I think it had to be
me?
Or even my firstborn, Eli?
    With a happy sigh, he put the eye back into the box, the box into the hollow, replaced the false brick, and crossed to the phone. He punched in the home office number of his travel agent, who had once been his mistress. He had broken it off with her “for her sake.” She was only one of many whom he had dumped, who thought he had done it for the noble reason of not messing up her life.
    â€œHey, Pat, my love,” he said easily, “yes, it’s me. Listen, I need a ticket ASAP to San Francisco. Open-end return, okay?”
    Upstairs in his bedroom, Jer touched his forehead. A sudden, brutal headache squeezed his temples. Breathing deeply, he intoned a spell to ward away pain. Nothing happened, and the pain got worse.
    When in doubt, take Tylenol
, he thought wearily,rolling over.
And why do I even bother trying to talk to my father?
    He raised up on his elbows. Then he froze.
    At the foot of the bed, magical green energy swirled in an oval shape about six feet high. It was about three feet across, and as it hovered in the air, a darker shape appeared in the center. Veins of deep ivy green crackled from it, and layers and shards of glowing forms tumbled around it in a circular motion, like the pieces of glass in a shifting kaleidoscope.
    The shaper grew, and Jer could