She huffed and settled against the strength of his chest. He was careful with her as he moved through the woods. Cleo realized then how much slower Jenny had been moving earlier and cringed.
“Where does it hurt,” Ian barked.
Cleo looked up in surprise. His deep brown eyes were pointed forward as he moved swiftly through the woods. Ian twisted his body sharply, letting long branches rake his arms to avoid her being scratched.
“I’m fine, but you really should let me down,” Cleo said. “You’re getting all beat up, and that’s not good.”
Ian flicked a gaze down at her. “I’m fine.”
Cleo snorted. “You get all messed up from the branches and it’s not my fault,” she warned him.
Ian’s lips twitched. “Noted,” was all he said.
Soon, they arrived at a large unlit bonfire. Branches and logs were stacked in a pyramid, and Cleo saw dried sage and lavender tucked in between the branches strategically. Cleansing. Calming. Huh.
Curtis looked up from the incongruously normal camp chair he sat in. He had a small, sharp knife in his hand and had been whittling…. Something. Cleo couldn’t make it out yet. He looked like any other camper in the woods, except for his eyes. There was something wild there. He reminded her of Orlaith and she shivered.
Ian approached his leader and held Cleo a beat longer than strictly necessary. Cleo flushed, feeling ridiculous and squirmed. This time, he let her down. He released her slowly, making it clear it was his choice. One of these days, she promised herself, she really would kick him in the shins. She glared at him, and he gave her an angelic smile in return. She almost laughed at that, but turned towards Curtis instead.
“Jenny hauled me through your woods,” she said without preamble. “I want to know why.”
Curtis made a contemplative face and turned his gaze back down to his hands. He started whittling again. “Think you’re in a place to make demands?”
Cleo barked a laugh at that. Curtis finally looked at her, surprised. “Obviously not,” she said, “since these are your woods, and I’m here because your people got me here.” That stung to admit, and Cleo kept her gaze from Ian as she said it. Too embarrassing to be so weak. She didn’t want to see disgust in his eyes. Cleo felt his eyes on the side of her face, but she focused resolutely on Curtis.
“Good you know that,” Curtis said mildly. He snapped the blade closed and tucked the little carving into his breast pocket. “Ian told me some things about you. About your family.”
“There’s a lot to talk about,” Cleo agreed. She tried to keep her voice light. Families were cursed all the time, right?
“You know why you’re here?” Curtis’ head tipped at her. He looked genial, relaxed, but Cleo sensed tension under the lines of his body. Cleo thought carefully.
“I suspect I’m here because I have something you want,” she said slowly.
Curtis smiled. He didn’t look happy. “Very good,” he said. “That’s right. And what do you have that I could want?”
Cleo’s mind raced. She ran through her possessions, not much, nothing of note. Nan’s old texts, maybe. She shifted focus to her abilities. Decent green witch. Lousy cursebreaker.
Then the thought struck her. “It’s not me,” she said. “You want my coven.”
Curtis smiled again, pleased this time. Ian tensed besides her.
Cleo was in deep trouble.
Chapter Thirteen
Cleo’s mind raced. There were only so many things her coven was capable yet. They were young in their craft, herself included. They were still settling into routine, and although the others frequently got together socially, Cleo avoided those gatherings for obvious reasons.
So it couldn’t be about the power of the collective. It had to be about an individual. Cleo wasn’t sure who would have an affinity that would attract a shifter pack. Or sleuth. Or troop. Whatever.
“Do you call it a pack of bears?” she asked suddenly.
Curtis was taken aback, although he did a good job covering it.
“I mean, what do you call yourselves en masse? I read a book that discussed sleuths of bears, but I can’t really see this guy,” she shot a thumb in Ian’s looming direction over her shoulder, “belonging to something called a sleuth, you know? Doesn’t fit in his whole ‘brooding image.’” She did the air quotes to be extra-annoying.
Curtis’ face creased in confusion. “What’s this got to do with…”
Ian cleared his throat. “Bears are solitary. I am. When there’s a group, though, we usually call ourselves a pack, which is dumb, because we’re not wolves.”
Cleo templed her fingers together sagely. “It seems like wolves would be annoying.”
Ian huffed a laugh. “You have no idea.”
Curtis’ hand slashed through the air and Cleo refocused on the situation at hand.
“We have a,” Curtis paused, “territory issue currently.” Both Ian and Jenny looked like they wanted to spit. Interesting.
“How can a group of untested and, quite frankly, unexperienced witches help with a territory problem?”
Curtis’ lips pulled in a half-smile. He got his whittling back out, the picture of relaxation. Except for his left foot. That twitched in a steady rhythm. When he saw that she’d noticed, he stopped, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle.
Curtis looked at Ian flatly. “You didn’t tell her,” he said.
Ian shrugged, uncomfortable. “I’d like for Ian to attend some of your coven meetings,” Curtis continued.
“Nope. Nopeity-nope. Nope squared to the infinite degree. Hard pass,” Cleo said. Cool, her mouth was running away from her again. Cool, cool, cool. She tried again.
“That is not wise. This is a new coven. We’re still getting used to working together,” she explained. Her tone was still slightly manic, but at least she sounded reasonably adult.
Curtis paused his whittling. “How was the tea?” he asked.
Cleo went cold all over at that. She had hoped he wouldn’t pull this card, but apparently this was high-stakes poker. Curtis held the
