“What does the back seat of your car look like?” I asked, smiling now. He frowned.
“It's ruined. The blood stains were so extensive I had to buy the car from the rental agency just to avoid questions,” he said.
I bit back a laugh. “That’s why.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “You’ve forgiven me because you’ve already gotten back at me.” He picked up his napkin from his lap. “You knew what was going to happen and the mess it was going to make.” I was struggling not to laugh now.
“Yes,” I admitted. “That was my revenge.”
“That was a rather brilliant way to get revenge,” he admitted. I couldn’t hold it; I started laughing and couldn’t stop. He just grinned and shook his head.
We passed the rest of lunch in conversation, carefully learning about each other. I learned that after reaching adulthood he left the community for two hundred years, traveling with other gargoyles to other countries. The tattoos he wore in his mind had me wondering if he had them in real life. After he went back he spent the next three hundred years working in the gargoyle community. His love for books and history took him to the old historian who wanted to retire with his Mate. And when I handed him a mug of properly made tea he all but groaned at the taste. It made me smile. During that hour I got a peek at the real Atticus. He was… nice, determined, and... yeah, sexy as ever.
I told him about the places I lived before Chicago. Turns out we had been to the same villages in Asia, just centuries apart.
When we were done eating he took our containers to the trash. When he came back his serious face was on.
He sat back down and turned to me. “I learned today that you run the city.”
I grew still, half expecting a lecture.
“Would you tell me how you’ve managed it?” he asked in a quiet voice. I took a drink of tea to hide my surprise.
“You know I have a Treaty with the Red Caps,” I began. “What you don’t know is that I also have them with the witches, werewolves, vampires, other shapeshifters, and a few fey. Ninety-three species in all.” His brow drew down but he didn’t say a word, so I continued. “Every species is responsible for their own. And every species has to give up their law breakers to me. I make sure they are guilty, and sentence them.”
“What sentences have you handed out?” he asked, his voice careful. He was actually listening while he rubbed the pad of his forefinger over the nail of his thumb.
“Death for the extreme violations, exile, some of the others I’ve given back to their leaders to punish as they deem fit. Those tend to be the worst punishments,” I explained.
“How can you be sure that the leaders will hand them over?” he asked. I grinned.
“Because each Treaty I wrote out personally, and every Treaty except for the Red Caps’, is magically binding. For the Red Caps, it’s all about honor, so they stay true to their word.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How does this magical binding work?”
“Most species have a connection to their Alphas, Masters, or leaders. I exploited that connection so that if one of their people break the Treaty, they’ll know something is wrong,” I explained.
“What happens if they still decide not to report it?” he asked.
I met his gaze and told him plainly, “The leaders will start to die. Slowly, and painfully.”
His eyes filled with understanding. “That’s why you trust them to hand over their own. Their own lives are at risk,” I nodded. His gaze was assessing as it ran over me. “That is extremely resourceful.”
“I’ve had to be.” I hesitated only a moment before adding. “But it goes both ways.”
“Both ways?” he asked, carefully setting his cup down on my desk.
“If I violate a Treaty, then I’ll start to die the same way. Only a pardon from the leader of the offended party will stop the spell.”
Silence fell between us. I played with my mug. I didn’t know what else to say… His face was blank, his eyes were unfocused.
“You don’t approve, or it’s against some law, right?” I asked quietly.
His eyes focused as they met mine. “No, actually, I was just thinking how much I underestimated you. You’re only a hundred and eighty-nine years old. And you’ve managed to not only control the city, but keep its humans safe. I’ve never heard or read of anyone your age doing what you’ve done here.” His tone impressed. My face burned. I didn’t know what to say.
But that didn’t matter when his eyes met mine. “Evelyn, why are the bookshelves half empty?”
I pulled my eyes away from his and looked down, turning my mug in my hands. “Spring cleaning?” I offered, knowing that he would see through the lie.
A perfectly manicured hand covered mine, stopping the cup from turning. Warmth slid up my skin as anxiety slipped away. He took my hand off my cup and turned me in my chair. He knelt down to meet my eyes.
“Spring cleaning doesn’t include shipping boxes,” he said gently. His thumb ran over my knuckles.
I looked up and met his warm eyes. “I’m going out of business.”
He frowned. “How’s that possible? You're selling, and have a rather impressive collection.”
“The original building owner died a few months ago and his son inherited the building. And as the lease allows, he’s increased the rent to drive me out.” I swallowed hard as his face softened. “I’m three months behind now and, in order to pay it off, I have to sell everything as soon as possible.”
“Even your private collection?” he asked.
“Sooner or later, every single book.”
“I can give you the money,” he offered softly.
I immediately shook my head. “I don’t want your money, Atty.” He winced at the name. I explained. “I don’t want to owe anyone anything. It’s a thing with me.” His hand squeezed mine. I continued, “I’m hoping I can convince him to take payments. Then I’ll have more time to find buyers, and that means I can get a better price. If I manage to salvage my private collection through this then I can start over, selling online.”
“Take the money, Evelyn,” he tried again, his accent slipping through. “It means nothing to me and I have more than enough.”
I shook my head again.
He sighed. “You’re stubborn.”
“Yes, I am,” I admitted.
He smirked. “Well, so am I.” He straightened to his feet and took off his jacket. “I assume you’ve got book orders?”
He tossed his jacket onto the empty chair. Stunned at his sudden disrobing it took me a second to answer. “Um, yeah, I, uh...” I turned in the chair and grabbed the list. When I turned back he was rolling up his sleeves, showing the tattoos woven over his muscular forearms that I had seen in his mind. Tattoos. On Atticus. Oh dear, that was… Oh my. Not noticing my drooling, he took the list from me and scanned it.
“If you pack them and address them, I’ll pull the books from the shelves,” he suggested. I looked up at him in surprise. He was serious. He started to head out of the office. I barely caught up to him in time.
I grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. He turned and looked at me questioningly. I finally found my voice. “We just ate fish and chips, so let’s go wash our hands before we touch the rare and antique books.” He smirked and followed me to the bathroom. We had a lot of work to do.
It turned out that Atticus and I worked well together in the bookstore. I was sealing another box when Atticus brought down another armful of books.
“That should be the last for today,” I said, smiling at him. “Thank you for helping. I don’t think I could have gotten through all this today.”
“Being surrounded by books is something I’m used to,” he admitted as he set the books on the counter. His eyes met mine. “You wouldn’t have to if-”
“I’m not taking your money,” I cut him off. He sighed but didn’t ask again.
His phone rang while I was writing out the address label. Atticus was all busine
ss when he answered.
By the time he got off the phone he was frowning again. “There’s some trouble at the head of the Witch’s Council house.”
I went still. “What?”
“Ranulf and Falk are there,” he announced. My heart dropped, then I was moving around the counter. He didn’t bother to grab his jacket before we strode out the door. I only stopped long enough to lock the door as he used the phone. “Zahur, get back to us now,” he ordered, then we were getting in the car.
As Atticus drove I became worried. Ranulf and Falk were at Rowena’s. My pulse raced.
“What are they doing there?” I asked sharply.
“They were questioning her,” he countered, his voice hard.
“You don’t meet a witch on her home turf. You meet them on neutral ground and in public!” I growled.
“Astrid said you had Treaties with everyone,” he countered.
“I do!” I answered. “But if you meet them on their turf you have to go through ritual greetings and all sorts of loopholes before you can even ask questions.” I looked over at him. “Tell me you knew that?”
His jaw clenched and unclenched. “I didn’t.”
Oh no. At least the store was close to Rowena’s. I telepathically reached for Falk. Since I was trying to heal him it should be easier to find him. Only I hit a wall. I knew the feel of that magic; it was Rowena’s, and it was stopping me from reaching them.
“Drive faster,” I growled. He pressed down on the accelerator.
“You think something has gone wrong?” Atticus asked.
“I can’t find Falk, she’s blocking me,” I told him, “That could mean nothing, or it could mean something very bad.” I wasn’t seeing the car or the road. My eyes were closed and I was examining the barrier blocking me.
“So, you have made a telepathic link with Falk,” he growled.
“No, since I’ve been working on his throat it’s just easier to track him.” I focused; the wall looked like ice, thicker than a foot I’d imagine. It was a great barrier but I was better. I mentally knocked on it three times. A new voice rang through the car.
“Ah, Ms. De Haven. Why are you pounding on my barrier?” Rowena’s voice crawled through the speakers of the car.
“You’ve blocked me off from my people, Rowena. Take the barrier down now,” I said out loud.
She tsked me. “They came to my home, my rules.”
“They have guest rights,” I reminded her. “If you harm them, I’ll tear you apart piece by piece.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t harm them.” Her voice was sweet and cloying. “But the poor things seem to be hallucinating.” If they were seeing things then she’d drugged them or she was throwing illusions.
“Guest. Rights,” I reiterated.
“They haven’t claimed them,” she countered. We turned the bend. Rowena’s mansion was up ahead, the gates closed. I rolled down the window.
“Rowena. You know my rules” I growled again as I took off my seatbelt and shifted to lean out the window.
“What are you doing?” Atticus shouted.
“You have my people, and you haven’t dropped the barrier. What happens now is on you,” I declared as I pulled energy through my body and into my hand. “Don’t stop, Atticus.” We were speeding toward the gate. I focused and threw the energy blast at the iron gates. They smashed open, swinging wide on their hinges only to hit the stone of the fence. I slipped back inside as he drove the car around the curve of the gravel drive. He skidded to a stop, white gravel flying.
Rowena’s home was enormous. It looked like it belonged in Europe, not the U.S. My gums burned as my fangs came out. My marks began to glow as I charged the rest of my powers, slowly burning through my shirt. Atticus met me on the steps up to the door. “Get them out. I’ll deal with Rowena,” I growled.
“It’s one witch, I can handle one witch,” he reminded me. I turned to him.
“We’re on her turf,” I stated. “I would bet my life that she has spells all over the place to make physical attack all but useless. I’ll handle her. You get them out.” I watched the struggle in his eyes before he nodded. We reached the doors. I didn’t bother knocking. I blasted the doors off the hinges and they crashed to the stone floor of the large foyer.
Ranulf was to the left, staring off into space. Falk, to the right, was as still as a statue, his pain etched on his face. I reached for him and still felt that barrier. Two sweeping staircases led to a balcony where Rowena stood. She was a beautiful woman. A gorgeous oval face, cascading chestnut silk for hair. And russet eyes that were glowing. In contrast, the skin along her neck was already gray, the color spreading across half her face. The spell had begun some time ago. That didn’t make sense…. Her lithe figure was in black slacks and a plum silk blouse.
I glanced back at Atticus giving him a knowing look. “Get them out of here.” He gave a quick nod before moving around Falk. I turned, giving the witch my full attention.
“You drugged them. How?” I demanded. She grinned with glee.
“Oh, it wasn’t hard. A large dose of spelled hallucinogen in their waters.” She took a shaky, painful breath. “They were very trusting.”
“Why?” I asked, my voice calm as I examined the gray veins crossing her face. Then I realized why. I threw a shield up blocking her from attacking Atticus or the others while he finished dragging Falk out the door.
She scoffed. “You know why, otherwise you wouldn’t have sent them.”
“You had something to do with the demons showing up,” I stated.
“Maybe.” She stated, her eyes burning. “It doesn’t really matter; I finally get to do what I’ve wanted to do for months.” She raised her hand as she said “Ignis.” She threw a ball of flame towards me. The ball dissipated as soon as it hit my shield. Energy tingled over my skin as I threw a bolt of lightning; it hit the stone railing forcing her back from the balcony. The air was thick with the smell of a stormy summer night.
“Hurry up.” I yelled at Atticus as I moved to the stairs, my eyes still on that balcony. Another ball of flame flew over the railing shaking my shield. I worked faster. Focusing on making the water molecules in the air heavier, and heavier. Rain began to pour from the ceiling. Rowena cursed and began throwing balls of ice. She couldn’t keep this up much longer, not with the spell draining the life from her. The more magic she used, the closer to death she came. So, I stayed low as I moved up the stairs. When I reached the second story landing I peeked out. Rowena was leaning on the back of a couch, drenched and panting. Her face was beyond pale, black veins were starting to cross her skin. Her whole body shook as she fought to keep herself upright. I created lightning in my palm and pressed my hand into the water that covered the floor. She screamed as she jerked from the shock then dropped to the floor. I let the rain stop and allowed the lighting to fizzle out in my hand. I got to my feet and strode behind the couch, my face blank.
She was gasping, sweat rolling off her face, the blackness of her fingertips now covered her hands. Her eyes grew wide as she lay there. I knelt in front of her. Taking her chin in my hand I examined her face. Her skin was completely gray now, black and gray veins marred her beautiful face. A large black patch was working its way down her throat.
“You had something to do with those deaths,” I stated. “Did you summon these demons?”
She glared at me. “Grant me a pardon and I’ll tell you.” Her voice was dry and raspy.
“Tell me and I might consider,” I lied. She was going to die for what she did to Ranulf and Falk. Not to mention the human victims.
“Pardon first,” she gasped painfully.
I looked her in the eyes.
“No,” I stated, my voice cold. “You hurt my people and you enjoyed it, you violated the Treaty. You do not get to walk away from that.” Rowena cried out in pain as she fell to her side on the stone floor, clutching her chest.
“How… long?”
I thought about it. “The less magical ability, th
e slower it works.” I focused back on her. “So, for you? I’d say three more days, four at most.” Rowena cried out as she lay flat on the floor, her body jerking as she fought for air.
I debated how wise it would be to enter the witch’s mind. It would be easy, but as a witch, Rowena would have more tricks and traps up her sleeve than I had time to deal with. No, I couldn’t get the answers from her.
I straightened to my feet and pulled out my cell phone. I called Rowena’s second in command.
“Hello.”
“Delia, this is Evelyn,” I said quickly. “You should come to Rowena’s house.”
“Why? What’s happened?” she asked, her voice hard.
“She violated the Treaty, you’ll be the new Head in a few days,” I informed her. “I thought you might like to round up some of the other witches so she doesn’t die alone.” There was silence for several heartbeats.
“I’ll do that. Thank you.”
"I need several questions answered now,” I growled into the phone.
"Whatever you need,” Delia offered, her voice professional.
"Are there any witches or warlocks besides Rowena who are strong enough to bring a demon, fully formed, through the barrier?" I ignored Rowena's crying as Delia thought about my question.
"Individually, no,” Delia began, "but in a group, it's possible."
"Anyone new in town? Anyone Rowena has been seen working with?" I asked, looking out the large window across from the balcony.
"No, no one new. But…," Delia hesitated.
"What?"
"Just rumors,” she offered. "A few warlocks have gone missing. They could have gone on vacation or something, but it's the only thing out of our usual."
“Does Rowena work with them?” I asked as I ran my hand through my hair.
“Lately, yes,” she answered.
"Could these warlocks and Rowena, together, pull something through?" I asked directly.
"I believe so,” Delia answered. I cursed. Rowena started coughing.
"Send me their information, please." I made a point to keep my voice polite.
Found (Books of Stone Book 1) Page 17
