We stood in the dim, musty - smelling underground lair. Morgana, the witch we'd finally cornered, glared at us defiantly, her eyes wild and filled with a determination that bordered on madness.
Scott's grip on her arm was so tight that as if he could force the truth out of her through sheer brute strength.
"Speak, Morgana," Scott growled, his voice echoing harshly in the small, enclosed space. "Tell us what you and your witchy friends are up to. Why did you give me that truth - telling potion? What's your sick game?"
"What did I do wrong? As a friend, when you were in desperate need, I helped you solve your problem. Is that a crime?"
Morgana merely spat at his feet in response, a string of obscenities leaving her lips. Her voice was laced with venom, and it was clear that she had no
