“Warlocks are rare these days. I’m surprised you’re able to practice at all. I would be…delighted to see your progress.” She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. If anything, it looked predatory.
“I’ve a clan of witches helping me find them. There are a few small groups left. Mostly in hiding but I’ve mapped out their general areas. I take as much as I need.” Nivera returned her own smile and turned on a heel.
“Follow me.” She led Claire deep into the house and opened a trap door with a set of stairs leading down to another door. “This house was built back in the 1920’s when Prohibition was still around, but I’ve found other uses for the wine cellar.” She unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a brightly lit room with black marble floor. When ignoring the heavy stench of warlock, it smelled like saffron.
Contrasting with the beauty of the room, large cages lined the area like a pound. The witch currently had four of the eight cages occupied, and a warlock strapped in leather bindings to a bed in the center of it all. She ignored the hands peeking out of the cage and walked directly to the bed, tucking hair back from the warlock boy’s face. “Aaron is making the most progress, right, Little Mouse?” The warlock mumbled incoherently, but she grinned. “Here, give me your hand, Miss Devereaux, I want you to feel the layers just beyond his aura."
