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the dot. He lifted a skeleton key from his thick ring as he stood. Curt approached the giant maple chest against the wall behind his desk. After a twist in the old lock and the creak of the heavy cover, he drew out a piece of folded parchment with a wax seal holding it closed. It was an old styled will for a priest who straddled the line between the old ways and the new.
    Curt returned to his desk after securely locking his chest. He held up the folded paper for all to see. The McKenna family crest was embossed in the crimson wax above the familiar signature of Fintan McKenna . All those gathered could clearly see the will hadn’t been tampered with since the high priest himself had scrawled his name. Once satisfied everyone had seen the unaltered state of the document, Curt cracked the wax seal, and then pushed his silver glasses over his nose.
    As with every other Fire witch last will and testament Brent had heard, Fintan had begun with the smallest of bits, working upwards. They heard of the thousand dollars he’d left for this charitable act and that. The plot of land he’d bequeathed to the Earth witches of Carmel. A business of which Fintan had been partnered in that was given over to the sole remaining partner. And the boat on the Pacific was given to a Water witch friend of long ago. Curt began reading the larger sums of money—shares, bonds and property that had been willed to his covens in the river valley. This would go on all afternoon.
    “‘And finally, I ask that you send everyone but the final two away to hear the remainder of my will’,” the lawyer relayed. “‘If they are still with us, I ask that only my beloved daughter, Sara Vesta McKenna, and my most trusted confidant, Brenton Titus Conley, remain to hear my final wishes.’”
    Curt lifted his gaze to the others. “Leave your name and contact information with my secretary as you leave and we will arrange to send you your portion of the inheritance.”
    Brent clasped his hands tightly in his lap as the others left. He wasn’t sure what to think of Fintan writing him into his last will and testament. Or about the strange request that Brent remain while Sara’s portion was read.
    Worry churned in his gut. Had the high priest written that Brent was to vacate McKenna House at once? Fintan’s premature death meant Brent had failed as an assistant. It would serve him right.
    Though he’d amassed considerable savings, Brent didn’t want to be forced out onto the streets with no notice. Sara would put him out the first chance she got. Especially after that kiss. She’d want to be rid of him even though there was plenty of other Ena offspring left to attack her.
    Curt took up the paper once more, fixing his glasses atop his straight nose again. “‘To my beloved daughter, I will two thirds of my remaining assets so she may realize her true potential in whatever fashion she sees fit. I also leave the home we made together to her.’”
    Brent’s neck heated as his fears began to take form in words.
    The lawyer went on with an unexpected caveat, “‘On the understanding that she will continue to provide a home for the son of my soul, Brenton Conley.’”
    He wasn’t the only individual in the room staring at the lawyer as if he’d burst into blue flame.
    “‘To my closest confidant, I will one third of my remaining assets.’” Curt paused, clearing his throat with a noisy rasp. “‘With the qualifier that Brenton Conley will personally see to my beloved daughter’s duty.’”
    Sara’s reaction was a sharp inhalation of breath while Brent’s had escaped his lungs in a shocked gush.
    “‘Let it be known that neither party will receive their inheritance until the deed is done, a Healer has given testimony that a child grows, and both parties have sworn under honored oath that my final wish has been carried out. If my wishes aren’t heeded within two months, the inheritance passes to my nieces and nephews as stated in my