10
Danica was so confounded by this apparition — and by the fact that he knew her assumed name — that she could only blink up at him for a few seconds. Then she managed to pull herself together enough to ask, “I beg your pardon?”
He smiled, but the blue eyes regarding her were cold. “At first I thought you must be one of the Wilcoxes, but I was informed by my innkeeper that you’ve just lately come here from Missouri. Are you one of the Landons?”
He knew she was a witch. How could he know that? Was he a warlock himself? But no, Danica hadn’t gotten any sort of ping from him, hadn’t felt that weird resonance she always experienced when she first met another of her kind.
Somehow she managed to recover herself enough to say, “I’m not sure what you’re asking, Mr. Rowe. Who are the Landons?”
