Witchy Sour(40)

I exhaled a big sigh of relief. “Whew, okay good.”

“Now that you feel sufficiently awkward, put those coins back in your pocket and have another biscotti. The ones with the fruit tart in the middle will make you melt in happiness.”

Five minutes later, the two of us had a pleasant conversation going, and I wondered if I’d been wrong all along about this feeling like a date. Already, it felt like a catch-up between old friends. Laughing, chatting, telling stories. Liam didn’t reach for my hand or pry into my personal business, and I didn’t say anything too stupid. Plus, the cookies with the jam in the middle were some of the most wonderful pieces of dessert I’d ever eaten.

“I need to get that recipe,” I groaned, leaning back in my chair. “I shouldn’t have eaten so many sweets. I hardly had dinner.”

“I can order you some food,” Liam said, already glancing around for the server. “I recommend the Magic and Cheese. The type of cheese Midge uses is to die for—”

He stopped talking, which caused my gaze to wander across the room. Two men in cloaks drifted into the dining room, their robes skimming the floor. At least, I assumed they were both men due to their tall, broad-shouldered stature. Similar to the visitor earlier in the day, both had hoods draped low, their facial features hidden entirely.

Liam watched my gaze as it followed the two of them across the room. “You’re staring,” he said finally. “Do you know them?”

I blinked and shook myself back to reality. “Sorry, that was rude. I’m just surprised. I’ve never seen anyone on The Isle wearing cloaks before, and now I’ve seen three in the same day. Does it mean something?”

“You’re referencing the other guest at your bar today,” Liam said slowly. “He arrived after me.”

I jerked my chin subtly toward the opposite side of the room. “Do you think he might be one of them?”

“I know for a fact neither of them is him.”

“How? You can’t see their faces.”

Liam slid a sideways gaze at them, his voice low. “Look at the line of fabric around their hoods. The man from the bungalow today wore a black ribbon. These two are orange and red ribbons.”

Despite my best efforts not to stare, I found myself leaning a bit toward the two cloaked strangers. The cloaks draped over the figures’ bodies were long, black, and swooshy.

Their hoods were no different. When pulled over their heads, the fabric almost grazed the tips of their noses. At the very end of their hoods, however, was a thin strip of satin-looking ribbon around an inch thick. One of them had an orange stripe and the other a red one, just as Liam had said.

“I didn’t notice the color before,” I said. “Earlier today, I mean. The black ribbon likely would’ve blended right into the cloak itself. What does it mean?”

“You’ve never seen a Cretan before?”

“A Cretan?” I blinked. “Never even heard of it. Or them.”

“Cretan Darham Hall is a school located in upstate New York. Very cold, wildly secluded. It’s known to be one of the finest schools for witches and wizards in the nation.”

“Why am I sensing there’s a catch?”

“Because there is,” Liam said. “There is one very big caveat.”

“Which is?”

“Let me back up for a second. Cretan is a very prestigious school. The alumni community is an incredibly proud group, and former students can be seen wearing their cloaks to represent their history. It’s a brotherhood of sorts, and the members are extremely loyal to their own kind.”

“So I can’t buy one of those cloaks at the thrift store?” I asked, the joke falling flat. “They’re not accepting applications?”

Liam gave me a small smile. “No, and let me just say this. When I say they are a brotherhood of sorts, I mean that quite literally...”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and it took a moment for the meaning to sink in.

“Oh,” I said finally. “They’re not friendly toward women.”

Liam nodded, a slightly sad expression on his face. “It’s not just women, it’s anyone who doesn’t fit in with their belief system.”

“That sounds cult-ish to me.”

Liam didn’t bother to disagree. “Still, nobody can deny that Cretan churns out great, great magic users. Mostly wizards, with one or two other paranormal creatures who have exceptional abilities. They’ve gone on to invent many of the spells that allow our culture to exist the way it does today.”

“There’s still that catch,” I said. “What aren’t you telling me?”