Nox
I jogged out after Hendrix, catching up with him as he slowed to exit through the back patio. The witch, Conrad, was pacing along the deck of the pool, lost in his thoughts. His sandy blond hair was like a curtain, brushing against his shoulders and blocking his view of the packhouse, so he did not see or hear us until Rix opened one of the French doors. When he finally did see us, he stopped pacing and turned to face us with his hands up in surrender.
“Alpha, Delta--I-I meant no disrespect--”
“It’s alright,” I said. Hendrix and I joined him on the patio, careful not to move too quickly. Witches were the closest magickal beings to humans, and experience told me that movements they couldn’t track would be seen as a threat against them. “We’re not here to lock you up or anything, man.
