Chapter 22

"Are you ready?" Kent asks me. He's sitting at the kitchen table in my villa, drinking a cup of coffee from the fancy espresso machine on the countertop and scrolling through his phone. He hasn't even looked up, and I clear my throat impatiently.

"What?" he asks, finally raising his head. "You look great. I told you that you would – you don't need me to approve your outfits."

"Well, excuse me for being a little nervous on my first day as an imposter witch doctor infiltrating the mansion of the most powerful political family in New York," I say, trying not to snap but feeling a little raw.

"Okay, okay, fair enough," Kent says. "Let me look at you properly, then."

He stands up and walks around me in a circle, like I'm in a fashion show. Sunlight is streaming through the windows, cheerfully glowing around the daffodil-colored curtains. The white tiled floors contrast beautifully with the black marble countertops and the walls that have been painted the color of robins' eggs.

It's the prettiest and most homey room in the villa, and I've started to become very comfortable in it. I take a deep breath as Kent exaggeratedly examines my outfit and let it out slowly, letting the cheer of the kitchen relax me.

"You look amazing," Kent proclaims, "just like I said you would." He smiles at me.

I glance down at myself, still a little unsure. I don't really understand what a medical doctor slash witch doctor is supposed to look like – do I wear long robes? a business suit? – so Andrea put together an entire wardrobe full of options for me.

Today I'm wearing a raspberry-colored silk skirt that flows like gossamer around my knees and a crisp linen dress shirt in white, rolled up to my elbows in neat cuffs. Around my neck is a small gold locket in an oval shape, and on my wrist is a delicate antique gold watch. On my feet are sensibly low-heeled black shoes.

It doesn't feel like a very professional outfit to me; I'm used to either scrubs or plain black and gray suits. But Andrea insists that witch doctors are more colorful characters, and that looking pretty and slightly whimsical will help me gain the Alpha's trust.

"Andrea will be here in about 20 minutes to take you over to the mansion," Kent says, glancing at the clock above the kitchen doorway. "You have plenty of time for a cup of this truly delectable coffee. Sit."

I sit down at the table while Kent busies himself with the espresso machine. I haven't yet worked out how to use it – I swear, that thing has more knobs, levers, and buttons on it than a spaceship.

After a few moments of hissing, whirring, and steaming, Kent places a cup of frothy, creamy coffee in front of me. I take a grateful swallow and hum a little. It's weird: I'm technically in exile right now, hiding from the entire world. And yet, for the first time in over three years, I'm starting to feel almost…happy.

"Earth to Nicole," Kent waves his hand in my direction. "You in there, hon?"

"Yes, sorry," I say, coming back to the present. "I'm paying attention now, I promise."

"No worries," Kent says. "This coffee is transformative. Especially the first sip. But we need to review a little bit before you get to the mansion today. Do you remember the rundown?"

"My name is Evelyn Prism, and I'm a qualified medical doctor and a practiced witch doctor who has lived and practiced in rural Australia for the past decade," I recite obediently. "I have largely catered to remote werewolf clans, which is why I have been off-grid for so long."

"Good," says Kent. "And why should they trust you?"

"I come highly recommended by Andrea Sable," I recite. "She's a close family friend and has personally supervised my work for years, and I trained under some of the best teachers in her network."

"Excellent!" Kent says, clapping his hands. "And what are your primary healthcare methods?"

"I believe in scientific medicine first," I say. "Any kind of magic should only be supplemental to modern medicine, and it should only be used where modern medicine is ineffective. I practice a patient-first method with a focus on holistic healing."

"Perfect." Kent drains his coffee and stands up to take his mug to the sink, motioning at me to drink up. "Andrea will be here soon, so grab your bag and coat before you lose your nerve."

"I'm not going to lose my nerve!" I roll my eyes, but in truth, I am feeling pretty on edge. Maybe the caffeine was a bad idea. I really should take Andrea up on her offer to get me into herbal teas, but they all taste like grass water to me.

A squeal of tires sounds outside the kitchen door, and I snort a laugh. Andrea's here, then. It's showtime.

"Well, I'm certainly glad to hear that you favor modern medicine first, I'm not shy about telling you that," the woman across the gigantic, ornate desk in the upper floors of the Alpha's mansion tells me, heaving a sigh and leaning back in her chair.

Her name is Claire, and she's the Alpha's personal secretary and aide. She was cold and borderline suspicious when I was first shown into her office, but now she looks at me with a much warmer expression on her face.

"Look, Evelyn, I'll be blunt," she says. "The only reason you're here is because of how much I personally trust Andrea. I nearly had a heart attack when the Alpha told me that he was insistent on veering into witchcraft.

"There are so many charlatans around, and I ran through about 50 applications before Andrea came to me about you," she continues. "I don't trust any of these people as far as I can throw them, which at my age isn't very far." She tucks a loose strand of silver hair back behind her ear.

"I completely understand," I say, honest for the first time during this conversation. "Scientific medicine has to be the basis of any treatment, and it always has to come first.

"However, even the best doctors will – or should – admit that it can't do everything. There is always room for alternative methods in tandem with a scientific approach, but balance is key. My philosophy is always to put my patient first, and I promise to do that here."

Claire smiles in relief and extends an impeccably manicured hand to me. "Welcome on board. If you give me just a few moments, I'll call the Alpha in here to meet you himself."

The Alpha Wolf is nothing like I had expected. He's a shorter man in person than he looks on TV, only about 5'10. If I was wearing heels, we'd be almost the same height. He has long white hair that's half pulled back off his face, and a lined, careworn face that looks much kinder than I'd anticipated.

"It's lovely to meet you, dear," he says in a voice that sounds like warm molasses. It reminds me of Marcus's voice. "I'm so grateful that you've decided to take me on; I know you've been doing a great deal of important work in Australia that's probably far more compelling than looking after an old man."

"Not at all, sir," I say. "I'm very grateful for the opportunity."

He smiles again and pats my hand. "I think she'll do very well, Claire," he says. "Dr. Prism, I'll see you tomorrow morning." He exits the office, leaning heavily on his cane. I have a feeling I'm going to become genuinely fond of this man, and I vow to do my best by him.

Charles strides down the hallway after his last morning meeting of the day, rounding the corner to approach Claire's office. It's ridiculous, how the Alpha's schedule has been pared back so drastically. No warning whatsoever! He knows the man is ill, but good god, there's still work to do. These people…

Claire's office door is closed, and Charles frowns in annoyance. Now what? He's got half an hour to get over to the Four Seasons for his lunch appointment, and he needs Claire to put some pressure on the Alpha this afternoon.

Two meetings a day simply isn't enough to work out the kinks of a transfer of power, even Claire has got to see that, and naturally Charles is hoping that more face time with the Alpha will greatly increase Daisy's chances of being named heir.

He's got about five minutes to make Claire see reason, and here her office door is shut, which it only is when she's in a serious meeting. What could be so serious, given that Charles is unaware of it? All important matters are meant to go through him these days, and some of the older staff seem to forget that.

Honestly, if Claire doesn't get on board soon, he might need to find a way to get rid of her.

The door opens just as Charles approaches, and a young woman steps out. She has short, curly red hair and striking green eyes. She looks a little startled to see Charles, but her expression smooths over so quickly that he might have imagined it.

"Ah, Charles," Claire says, walking up behind the young woman. "This is Evelyn. She's joining us as the Alpha's personal physician."

Charles frowns – why wasn't he informed of this? And furthermore, why does this redhead look so familiar? His mind flashes uneasily to Nicole – but no. Nicole is dead, and he's made damn sure to confirm that, lest he gets complacent again. He's just on edge.

"Nice to meet you, I'm sure," Charles says curtly to Evelyn, and then glares impatiently at Claire. "Claire, sorry to bother you, but I simply must have a word. In private, if you don't mind."

Claire looks at him sourly, not even bothering to hide her displeasure.

"Very well," she says. "Come in. Evelyn, we'll see you bright and early tomorrow. The Alpha will expect you at around 9 a.m."

The young woman shakes Claire's hand, gives Charles an unreadable look, and then smoothly walks down the hallway and out the door.