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years’ time Agatha would be breaking world records in the age department. She might be a tough old bird but she was still his grandma and therefore susceptible to his dark, spaniel eyes. The last thing Evrain needed was to be tag-teamed by Agatha and his godfather. Separately they were formidable. Together. Evrain shuddered at the thought.
    He shifted his chair back a little, twisted his fingers into the required shape and pushed his thoughts at the fat, white candle in front of him. The tingle that shot down his spine could have preceded an orgasm. If only! There was a whoosh of heat as the flame shot toward the ceiling and the candle became no more than a spattered puddle of melted wax spreading across the table. Evrain yelped and blew on his singed fingers in an attempt to cool the scorch marks. He scowled again.
    “Take that look off your face, young man.” Agatha was pitiless. She scraped at the cooling wax with a brightly painted nail. “Once this has cooled, you can lift it all off the wood. With a toothpick. That will give you some time to meditate.”
    Evrain groaned. “Grandma, this is hopeless. I’m not getting any better, just more and more destructive. If I keep going like this, you’ll need to have the fire service on standby for when the cabin goes up in flames.”
    “Nonsense. You’re like all young people these days—you want everything easy. The craft takes time, patience and perseverance. You would do well to remember that,” Agatha scolded.
    “Mind you… A bunch of firemen hanging around does have some appeal.”
    Agatha rolled her eyes. “You are a very bad boy. Less daydreaming about men and more application to your studies, please.” She sighed. “That’s enough for today. Put the kettle on and make your old grandma a cup of primrose tea. Then you have a table to clean.”
     
    Agatha watched Evrain as he moved with effortless grace around her kitchen. His aura flickered and sparked. The colors had mellowed as he’d matured, changing from aluminum foil silver and gold leaf to warm copper and platinum swirls. The energy around him burned hot. Agatha worried constantly about his need to channel some of his power. Evrain was restless, unfocused. His abilities manifested in intense creativity and extreme emotion. Even though he vented almost every day, he still needed a calming influence in his life, and soon.
    Evrain set a burnished copper kettle on the range. He flicked his fingers and steam immediately issued from the spout. The kettle rocked and shook as its contents boiled with unusual violence. Evrain gave Agatha a sheepish glance. “Sorry?”
    “Why are you turning an apology into a question, young man? You shouldn’t have done that and you know it… Especially after what happened last time.”
    Evrain peered up at the ceiling. “There’s hardly a mark.”
    Agatha shook her head. Kitchen paraphernalia exploding into the air was a minor annoyance in the scheme of things. She shifted in her chair, settling into a more comfortable position. “Do you realize it’s been six months to the day since you turned twenty-one?”
    Evrain poured steaming water into two mugs and spooned in aromatic herbs. “Six months to the day since you turned my world upside down.” He brought the drinks across to the table. “Let it steep for a few minutes.” He took the chair across from Agatha. “I still can’t believe your opening line was ‘Evrain, you’re a warlock.’ Subtle, Grandma.”
    “Your expression was a picture.”
    “You gave me no time to think, just launched into seven hundred years of family history over what was supposed to be my birthday lunch.”
    Agatha’s thoughts drifted back to that late autumn day. They’d enjoyed a pleasant meal together then had settled in the armchairs next to the open fire with a glass or two of home-brewed sloe gin. Without preamble she had told Evrain of his heritage, Gregory and Coryn chiming in now and again. There had been no softening