Adrian Blackwood

Rather than looking offended, Adrian just chuckled. It was a good laugh, rich and deep and low. "I wouldn't be surprised if some of us did," he said. "And I know for a fact one of my sisters writes lesbian erotica. She has a publishing deal and everything."

He paused for a moment, pride warring with already missing home before he put that out of his mind.

"Blackwood witchcraft is a braid of three parts," he explained. "The bones, the flesh, and the soul. Every witch uses all three, but we dedicate ourselves to just one. Those who bury their bones are witches of the past. Those who bury their souls are witches of the future. I will bury my heart as a witch of the present, and my entire magical tradition revolves around life and the body." He shrugged. "Which does occasionally involve fertility rituals and dancing naked under the moon, as well as being magically and morally opposed to ruining anyone's good time, which is all the stuff we have a reputation for."

Or, at least, the women in his family did. There were no male Blackwood witches save him.

Damn the warlock cabal.