Diana had absolutely no idea where they were. The small pub that Clairmont had taken her to was intimate and looked far more sophisticated than the ones she often frequented with her friends. The soft greys of the walls contrasted smartly with the dark bar and tables around the space, giving the whole place an expensive feel. It seemed to fit the professor perfectly.

Clairmont ordered them both a large glass of wine before he guided Diana out of the open doors at the back of the room, and onto the deck. The river behind them reflected the lights of the building and finally, Diana understood where she was.

"Do you come here often, Professor?"

"Occasionally," was all he said, as he took a seat at one of the small wooden tables. "It's a little more expensive than your regular choice of establishment, but the quality of drinks on offer here are far superior."

Diana didn't say anything but she didn't really need to. That first sip of wine had already proven Clairmont's point perfectly.

When it became apparent that he wasn't planning to speak first, Diana pushed aside her frustration to ask, "So … are you ever going to tell me how you know Peter Knox?"

"I've already told you, I only know of him," the professor threw back.

"Bullshit! You seemed genuinely concerned about him following me when I called you this morning. You know more than you're letting on, Professor."

"Astute," Clairmont remarked, before taking a sip from his glass. He didn't elaborate on his remark. Instead, he went on to ask, "Would you like to order some dinner?"

Diana's tummy gave another rumble of agreement but she ignored it in favor of fixing her companion with a harsh glare. "No. I want some answers. You can't keep coming into my life like this, feeding me mysterious information and then refusing to explain it to me. I deserve to know what's going on."

"You're right, you do," Clairmont said, deflating Diana's anger slightly. "But I'm not sure you're ready to hear it."

"Excuse me?" she snapped. "Who the hell do you think you are? You might be a couple of steps above me on the academic ladder but that absolutely does not give you the right to make these kinds of decisions for me. In case you haven't noticed, Professor, I'm an adult, not a child."

"My reluctance to discuss this with you has nothing to do with your age or any perceived lack of experience on my behalf, Miss Bishop."

"Then what is it about?" she pushed.

Clairmont appeared to consider his options for a moment while he sipped at his drink. Eventually, he straightened his shoulders and asked, "Tell me, what do you know of your family legacy?"

"My fam – what has my family got to do with this?"

"Everything, Miss Bishop." He took another sip from his glass before stating, "Did you know that your ancestors can be traced back to Salem? Bridget Bishop was the first person to be executed during the Witch Trials."

"Of course I know that. Do you really think I'd have taken an interest in history and not bothered to research my own?"

"Then tell me what you know of the Bishop witches," he invited, sitting back in his seat as if anticipating a thrilling story.

"There's nothing to tell. Bridget Bishop was executed in 1692 after being found guilty of witchcraft. That's it."

Clairmont nodded his head as if what she'd said had given him something to think about – some kind of big decision to make. Diana was so lost with the direction their conversation had taken that she couldn't seem to put her outrage into words.

"What would you say if I told you that's not where the story ends?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat to fold his arms on top of the table. "What if I told you that's not even where the story begins?"

Diana chuckled bitterly at the audacity of his claim. She couldn't believe that a biochemist was sitting in front of her, trying to tell her about her own family history like he knew and understood it better than she ever could.

"Excuse me?"

"What would you say if I told you that there was a whole other side to this world that you've been living in, Miss Bishop? A side that you appear to be completely unaware of, but one that I'm willing to bet your family already knows exists."

"Then I'd tell you that you're crazy," she snapped back, because how dare he try and imply that her own family was lying to her. He didn't even know her, let alone the people she loved that she'd left behind in Madison.

"Am I? Think about it," he invited, giving her a moment to do just that. Diana opened her mouth to argue once more but before she could say anything, Clairmont spoke again. "Do you think what happened this morning was normal? That if it had been one of your peers on that river they'd have noticed they were being followed? That Peter Knox specifically was following them?"

"Most people know when they're being followed," she replied, because of that, Diana was certain.

"You'd be surprised how many don't," he countered, as a small smile played at the corners of his lips.

The sight of that smile only served to infuriate Diana more. This was not a time for his inside jokes.

"Look, if you're not going to give me any straight answers this evening then I don't see the point in continuing this conversation, Professor."

Before she could fully rise from her seat, Clairmont's hand shot out to wrap around her wrist as his eyes pleaded with her to stay where she was. To understand what he was saying.

"It's not that I don't want to. On the contrary, I feel like you would be much safer if you knew the truth, Miss Bishop. But it's not my place to inform you of the information that's being kept from you. I can only assume that it was done for a particular reason – one that you'll need to understand fully to be able to appreciate why you've been lied to for most of your life. When you know the truth, I'll be happy to carry on this conversation. Until then … what would you like for dinner?" he asked, sitting back in his seat to flash her a disarming smile.


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