“You are accused of giving a rare artifact to a Were to further your position in his pack instead of turning it over to us for proper reinterment,” she said.

“You never told me you wanted it,” I said, hand on my hip. Hey, if I was going down, I was going down bitching. “And I was David’s alpha before I had the focus, so you can cut the crap about using it to better my position in a group that no witch cares about anyway.” Worry for David rose up, and I felt my back pocket, ready to change my plan. “If you touch him …”

Brooke’s eyes fixed on mine. “You are in no position to make threats, Morgan.”

Not yet anyway. I exhaled, pretending to be subdued. Just relax a bit more, and maybe I will be. “Look,” I said, feeling sticky, “the I.S. cleared me, and you shunned me. Case closed. You can’t shove me in a hole to be forgotten.” I hope.

The head earth witch with his salt-stymied amulet smiled, and the lonely sound of gulls crying came faintly as they settled on cliffs for the night. “Yes, we can,” he said. “All of the listed crimes could be dismissed as the youthful exuberance of a young, talented witch. With the right conditioning, you might even be a candidate for my job when I step down. But with certain incidents coming to light, it becomes increasingly clear what you are.”

Damn you, Trent. If I get out of here, I’m going to smack you so hard you won’t be able to find your ass using both hands. “And that is?” I asked, knowing what he was going to say.

Facing me squarely, Brooke said, “You are demon spawn, Rachel Morgan. Survivor of the Rosewood syndrome, demon in all but birth.”

Shit. Hearing her say it hit me hard, and I shouted, “I am not a threat to you!” I almost followed that with “and Trent can’t control me,” but I was scared. I wasn’t ready to burn that safety net just yet, and I hated myself for it.

Brooke snapped her laptop shut with a sound of finality. “You are a threat, Morgan,” she said loudly. “Your very existence is a threat to the entire witch society, and sometimes we are constrained to act on our society’s behalf without them knowing. That’s why you’re here and why we are going to stick you in a little … tiny … hole.”

Oh, ma-a-a-an, this is so full of crap! “You’re afraid of me, isn’t that it? Well, you should be if this is how you treat people!” I was shaking, but they weren’t impressed, chagrined, or otherwise moved. Stymied, I crossed my arms over my middle and exhaled loudly, helpless.

“So all that is left is your sentencing,” Brooke said, sounding happy about it.

Sentencing? Fear slid through me, and at my alarmed expression, Brooke smiled. They were railroading me into custody because a trial would bring it out into the open that witches were an offshoot of demons. Humans would massacre us in our sleep like they once had vampires.