Randall stared back at the strange woman with the silver hair. Roughly a million questions raced through his head, but he asked the one that seemed the most plausible.
“Are you my biological mother?”
At once, she smiled, although something about that smile seemed almost condescending, as though she thought he was presuming a great deal in thinking she was his mother. “No. I am Greta Van Horn, prima of the Van Horn clan. Your mother was my younger sister, Alicia.”
His aunt was the head of the Van Horn clan? Months ago, when Addie had first told him that he was a warlock, she’d speculated he might be one of the Van Horns, just because he’d been left in a basket on the steps of a fire station in Brooklyn, and the Van Horn family held sway over most of New York. Still, it had never crossed
