Angus by Melissa Schroeder

going to avenge his brother’s murder.
    “Quite a bad day out there,” Franklin Sweeney said from behind him. Dylan turned around and studied the man he had set out to rob all those years ago. He was in his fifties, fit and as tall as the day is long.
    “Not too bad for February in Scotland, although, my blood is a bit thinner since I’ve been spending most of my days south of here.”
    Sweeney nodded and walked over to the wet bar. “Whisky?”
    “Don’t mind if I do. Would definitely warm me up from that rain.”
    After pouring the drinks, he offered Dylan a glass and motioned toward one of the leather chairs in front of the massive desk. Rich people were so easy to read. No one bought a desk that big unless they were trying to compensate for something they felt they were lacking.
    After they settled, Sweeney behind the desk—the man was so bloody simple—Dylan said nothing. He drank his whisky, enjoying the slight burning of his throat as the smooth liquid slid down.
    “So, you wanted to see me. I feel that it must be something very important for you to use blackmail.”
    Dylan fought the urge to laugh at the man. Nothing like a few pictures with a younger woman to get the attention of a rich man with a wife who held the purse strings.
    “Five years ago, someone broke into your house.”
    “Yes.”
    The way his brow furrowed told Dylan he was remembering the night well.
    “I know how it was done.”
    Sweeney paused with his drink half way to his mouth. “Indeed? Of course, that doesn’t matter, you know. He was unsuccessful.”
    Dylan listened to the way Sweeney’s voice tightened on the last word. Still upset over that, are you?  
    “To a point. But he still got in. If something hadn’t happened to him, you would have lost your most brilliant pieces.”
    “No, the system worked.”
    He did laugh at that. “Indeed? Are you positive?”
    “My security—”
    “Is a joke for the woman who helped him.”
    Sweeney’s eyes narrowed as he studied Dylan. He was sure Sweeney used the technique to dominate other people. Most would back off with that look, but Dylan was different than ordinary people.
    “See, you never found out who the bloke was, did you? With all the help of the government and computers and everything, you still don’t know who the bloody hell he was, do you?”
    He nodded, once.
    “I do know who he was and…I know the woman involved.”
    “Let me guess…you want something from me for the names?”
    “Oh, how simple, but it works, yes?”
    “What the bloody hell do you want?”
    Dylan waited for a few moments, just enough to make the man sweat. The slimy bastard deserved it. Part of the reason his brother had gotten tangled up with that woman was that fucking security system. She had been the only person who could break it…and Ian had become obsessed.
    “I will let you know later on exactly what I want. But, first, let me tell you a story about a woman…a witch in particular.”
     

Chapter Fourteen
     
    A day later, Maggie dug her mother’s journal out of her bag. The leather bound book was worn and had been passed down from her grandmother to her mother and then to Maggie. It had served her well for years.
    She opened it and the scent of lilac and sandalwood surrounded her. It was something that always made her think of home.  In the years since she lost her Magick, she had kept it with her but had not opened it. Whenever she did, emotions and memories overwhelmed her. She hadn’t had time for reminiscing.
    “You’re going to use your Magick again?” Jack asked her.
    She glanced at him. He had been a small when he was born. He’d been premature and still looked so small to her. She knew he was strong, stronger than most other children. He was always too intelligent for her peace of mind. Most four year olds didn’t grasp the concept of the things Jack said. Unfortunately, Maggie knew he did. And, as a mother, her heart ached for him. No child should have to deal with