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HOUR later, I was on the road to Havenbridge in my black Mercedes Roadster. It was almost four o’clock, and home was still an hour away. Dad wasn’t going to be pleased.
    As we did every year, my family held the Samhain celebration at Blackmoor Manor. It was a lot of work that required a great deal of planning. The bonfire had to be set up in the backyard. Autumnal decorations had to be hung throughout the grounds and manor. Places needed to be cleared for the ancestor altars, and the table needed to be prepared for the Feast of the Dead.
    Even though Dad hired a catering service to make the food and paid them extra to set up most of the decorations, he’d been relying on my help with the final touches.
    As if on cue, my father’s ringtone, “Magic Carpet Ride” by Steppenwolf, started playing. I took a deep breath before answering. “I’m on my way.”
    “You were supposed to be here hours ago,” my father said. His tone was low, almost a whisper. Oliver Blackmoor didn’t yell when he was furious. He became deadly calm.
    “I got held up. You know I’m working on my dissertation, and I just lost track of time.” I couldn’t very well tell my father the truth. Being late due to important schoolwork was one thing. Telling him it was because I’d fucked my brains out and then passed out would likely result in a mushroom cloud where my house used to be.
    He exhaled before replying. “I know you’ve been busy trying to finish up your dissertation, son.” His tone had returned to his usual baritone. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset.”
    Why couldn’t he be his typical self and fly off the handle? I knew how to handle him when he was belligerent. He was evidently taking my advice and trying to control his warlock temper. It was something I’d asked my family to work on the last time I was home. Getting riled up had almost cost my father and Pierce their lives in our battle with the vampyre. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
    “Well, don’t speed,” he said. “I want you home safely.”
    I stared into the phone. Who was this man? “Have Pierce and Mason been helping?”
    He grunted into the phone. “Pierce scheduled a business meeting and has been out the last few hours. As for Mason, well, he and Drake hung up some of the fall wreaths, but then they started making out. I don’t know where they are now.”
    Leave it to my brothers to shirk responsibility as often as possible. Didn’t they realize this Samhain would be a tough one for Dad? It was the first one without Mom. But instead of thinking about anyone else, my brothers thought only of themselves. Typical warlocks. “I’ll finish up once I get there.”
    “Don’t worry about it. I think I can get it done.” He didn’t sound convincing. “I just can’t find where your mother stored the candles for the altar.”
    “Check the attic.” Even though she’d lost her battle with cancer in March, it seemed like it happened yesterday. “I think they’re in the black chest next to where she stored our baby clothes.”
    “Right,” he replied. His voice broke, and a heavy weight landed on my chest. Although my father and I hadn’t had the relationship he and Pierce enjoyed, I felt for him. She had been my best friend, the one person I was closest to in our entire family. But she had been his wife, the woman he’d been spell bound to the moment he saw her.
    I couldn’t begin to imagine the emptiness that threatened to swallow him up from inside.
    “What time are the Stonewalls and the Proctors arriving?” I asked. Changing the subject would distract us both from the swell of emotions that threatened to drown us, especially since my father didn’t care for the heads of the other protector covens. It was part of our culture for warlocks, wizards, and witches to not get along. Our different types of magic necessitated such staunch divisions.
    At least that was what I’d always been led to believe. After everything we’d gone through