Incense and melted wax wafted in the air as Lucien entered the emporium. Smoke coiled around the shelves, brimming with spell craft supplies. They offered anything a wizard needed at their little shop. Lucien remembered when he had first picked out his wand there, with Mrs. Vale encouraging him to choose whichever one suited him best.

“Lucien, dear.” Mrs. Vale rounded the corner, makeup immaculately done as always. She came over and embraced him in a tight hug; her scent of vanilla and jasmine was calming and reassuring. “I’m so sorry about Charlotte. Please, let me know if you and your family need anything, okay? I’ve spoken with your mother since the police detectives started their investigation and let her know everything I could find.”

If only Lucien could’ve been a fly on the wall during that conversation. Did his mother accuse her of killing Charlotte? Or did she put on her facade again for everyone?

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” Lucien gave her a sorrowful, half-smile. “Is Castor here?”

“He’s in the back office, going over inventory.” Mrs. Vale pointed behind them.

Velvety robes brushed against Lucien as he maneuvered around them, admiring the handcrafted designs Mrs. Vale created. It brought back memories of when she’d sewn Castor’s robes and even Lucien’s, when they were young kids. Lucien still had his old robes, tucked away deep in his closet, much like a lot of his secrets these days.

Lucien made his way to the back office and knocked on the door. When nobody answered, he tried the knob and creaked it open to peek inside. Castor sat behind a desk, nose deep in a thick leather book. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was his grimoire.

Every wizard family had their own personal grimoire of spells and innovations, but Lucien wondered what dark spells hid within the pages of that book. The Vales’ family crest was centered on the cover, depicting a majestic phoenix rising from the flames with its wings spread wide. Shades of oranges, reds, and golds blended together in a way that made the phoenix flames seem to flicker around the bird.

Lucien crept behind him and lowered his head until it rested near Castor’s shoulder, his lips dangerously close to his ear as he asked softly, “Reading anything good?”

“Not really.” Castor’s neck turned a faint shade of red as he closed his book, then he waved his wand over it to ensure it was locked. Nobody ever left their family’s secrets untethered for anyone to see. “How’ve you been?”

“Taking things one day at a time.” Lucien sighed as he moved away from Castor only to prop himself up on his desk, letting his legs dangle off the edge. “It’s been suffocating at home with my folks.”

“I’m sorry.” Castor rested a hand atop of his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You should just stay at our house. Move in already. My folks already love you and you know they’d agree to it.”

“I really should.” Lucien chuckled as he reached down for Castor’s hand and brushed his fingers along his rough, calloused skin. “Where would I sleep?”

“My room, of course.” Castor didn’t miss a beat. “We could always bring another bed in there.”

“Maybe I’d rather just share yours.” Lucien’s heart pounded thunderously in his chest from the brazen remark, and he adored the way Castor flushed at his suggestion. “You’re always so warm and it’s comforting to sleep near. My bedroom at home is like a yeti’s ice den at nighttime. I swear they want to freeze me to death there.”

“You’d never be cold with me.”

Something akin to desire flashed in Castor’s eyes, and Lucien wondered if he had mistaken it. Castor was a straight man. His best friend. Perhaps it was merely a trick of his fire magic, as he sensed warmth emanate from his palm against his thigh. It ignited a deep longing within him, rousing secret fantasies that had played out in his mind so similarly with those warm hands exploring other parts of his body.

“Why do you always go back to your folks?” Castor rasped.

“They’re my family.” Lucien shrugged. “Although, I guess it’s for appearances as well. Can’t have anyone thinking something’s wrong within the Cromwell home.”

“Who cares what others think?”

“My mother.” Lucien frowned. “That’s what she’s always concerned about. Our stupid public image. I honestly wish someone would shame our family name just out of spite to her.”

“I hate how you have to deal with her crap.” Castor’s strong, muscular arms suddenly wrapped around his waist, gently readjusting him on the desk. “Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall off. You were really close to the edge.”

“It’s okay. I know you’d catch me anyway,” Lucien teased.

Castor gave him a sly grin. “Yeah, I’d let you fall right into my lap. You can stay there where I know you’re safe and help me finish up these inventory reports I was supposed to have done already.”

“Distracted by all those dark magic spells, weren’t you?” Lucien playfully chided. “I don’t mind helping out. Just show me where to start and what to do. I’m a pretty fast learner.”

“I’m sure you are.” Castor waggled his brows with a taunting grin.

Once Castor revealed the heap of paperwork for him, Lucien almost felt like he was back in his office among the Supernatural Council. If only he had the luxury of having Castor there at work to keep him entertained. Lucien would honestly never get anything done around there.

“I hope people aren’t giving you and your family too much grief over Charlotte’s death.” Lucien tensed against the desk he still sat on with papers strewn across in front of him. “I remember at the funeral how they acted, and I’m so sorry. They’re fools to think you all would ever hurt a soul.”

“They’ve dropped by the house once to question us and a few times here at the shop,” Castor said. “Guess they’re wanting to be diligent, but I think they suspect us as much as everyone else around here.”

“What if we struck up our own investigation?” Lucien suggested.

Castor nodded. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, right? I might even know a guy who could help us out. He owes me a favor anyway. Let’s visit him tonight.”

Lucien raised a brow. “Sure, if you want. Maybe make sure the guy’s awake before we go flying over there though.”

“Don’t worry. He’s a night owl. Definitely awake.” Castor smirked. “We’re going to do what we can to get Charlotte justice, but I’m also concerned for your safety too. I haven’t forgotten how her killer pointed his wand at you, ready to curse you to death. That scared the hell out of me. You have to be careful out there.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Lucien murmured. “I will.”

Something in his expression shifted. Castor’s mischievous smile vanished, dark eyes seeming to stare right into his soul. “If anyone tries to curse you like that again, I’ll kill them myself.”