by Jodi Redford
“I thought I’d lost you.” Emotion roughened Griff’s voice. He tipped her face up, and she saw the tears glimmering in his eyes.
She trailed her fingertips over his stubbled jaw. “Like you could get rid of me that easy.”
Leaking a ragged exhale, he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tight. There were so many thoughts tumbling around in her mind, but she settled on the only one that mattered. “I love you, Griff.”
“I love you too, baby.”
They both seemed to stop breathing at exactly the same moment. Joy overflowing her heart, she looked up at Griff. Her smile faltered at his expression. Rather than the love and tenderness she’d expected, dark misery clouded his face.
She swallowed hard. “You don’t look very happy about it.”
He finally returned her smile, but it was filled with sadness. “I’ve waited my whole life to be able to speak those words.” His palm traced the curve of her cheek. “The fact that I can means that the contract has been dissolved.”
It took a moment to figure out what he was talking about. “Wait, does this mean—?” She broke off when a strange luminescence glinted across Griff’s skin.
He must have read her confusion because he brushed her hair aside and kissed her. Tenderness. Love. Now it was there. In Technicolor detail. So why the hell was she scared?
“I’ll love you, Jemma…” The odd distortion flickered across Griff again, and she reflexively clutched him tighter. Was it her imagination, or did he feel less…there? She jerked her attention upward in time to catch the resignation in his eyes.
“Always.” The word whispered from his mouth before he faded into the darkness.
Chapter Twenty
Griff was gone. The crushing pain of it sat like a pyramid of bricks on her heart. Nightmares—sleeping and awake—tormented her. When the harsh rays of morning light came she crawled into the shower and curled against the tiled wall in a fetal position, the stinging spray pounding her unmercifully. The water didn’t fill the emptiness in her soul and the tears returned, intensifying the misery trapped inside her. She hugged her knees to her chest, a sob racking her body. A slow, welcome tide of rage began to drown the pain.
By the time the water grew cold and her skin clammy, a renewed sense of determination had steeled her spine. Dialing off the jets, she yanked a towel from the hook and ruthlessly scrubbed herself dry. She dressed in khaki pants and a blue cotton top, silently acknowledging how the color matched her mood. Slicking her hair into a wet ponytail, she went downstairs.
Everyone was congregated in the kitchen. She felt the weight of their sympathetic gazes but refused to hide the swollen redness of her eyes. It wasn’t her problem if they were uncomfortable with witnessing her agony. She took a deep breath and walked to the center island, stopping in front of Clarissa. “I want to meet with the guild. Can you make it happen?”
“It won’t do any—”
“Can you make it happen?” She bit the words through clenched teeth.
Clarissa remained silent for a long moment before nodding.
“Good. Tell them it’ll be today.”
“That isn’t much notice.”
Jemma squared her jaw. “I stopped a zombie apocalypse for those assholes. They can squeeze me in their damn schedule.”
“I’ll contact them right now.” Clarissa started to brush by Jemma but she hesitated. After an uncertain pause, her fingertips settled on Jemma’s forearm. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
She looked into Clarissa’s eyes and saw a reflection of her own heartache. Struggling to hold the surge of bleak emotions at bay, she broke away from the coven mistress and returned to the hallway. The walls felt too close, too confining, adding to the vise-like pressure within her chest. She blindly staggered outside to the front porch. Sunlight and fresh air greeted her, along with the jubilant chatter of birds in the distance. Life was all around her. A bold declaration that Death hadn’t won this round.
So why did she still feel dead inside? Her legs rubbery, she sat on the top step and peered sightlessly out at the driveway. Griff’s Pathfinder was parked beneath the shade of the large oak near the toolshed. The vehicle was covered in road dust. Probably a little residual zombie dust too. She’d have to wash it. Griff was always so particular about keeping the SUV spotless, even if he wasn’t so diligent when it came to housekeeping.
A fresh tear snuck past her lashes, and she swiped it away before dropping her hand to the edge of the step. Something wet and scratchy passed over her fingers and she jumped. She stared down into Floyd’s big, droopy eyes. The dog whined and licked her again before insinuating his nose beneath her hand.
“Looks like old Floyd there can’t handle seeing a pretty lady crying either.”
She gave in to the hound’s nudging and scratched behind his floppy ear. Grunting in contentment, Floyd hung his head over the step. She glanced over her shoulder at Logan. “Pretty? Me and Floyd probably look like twins right now with the amount of crying I’ve been doing the past ten hours.”
“It’s okay, sugar. You’re allowed to cry. Although Catman wouldn’t like seeing you in this state.”
She knuckled her nose. “I know. He always hated seeing me cry too. Probably because I always look all icky when I do.”
Logan chuckled. “Somehow I don’t think that’s the reason.” He joined her and Floyd on the step. The mutt took that as a sign that he needed another hand scratching him on the rump. Pretty soon the rhythmic thumping of his tail provided a backbeat to the chirping birds. Logan cleared his throat. “It’s not going to be easy convincing the guild to reverse Catman’s sentence. Just thought you should know that going in.”
She jutted her chin forward. “I’ll do whatever it takes to bring him back.”
Logan’s mouth slid into a grin. “Damn, kind of wish I could be a fly on the wall during this showdown.” He gave Floyd a final pat before hefting to his feet. “Why don’t you come inside? Gloria’s got a big spread planned for brunch.”
Floyd cocked his head up with an excited woof. Logan wagged a finger at the dog. “The invitation was for the lady.”
Jemma shook her head. “Thank you, but food and I aren’t exactly on good speaking terms right now.”
“Gloria’s going to be devastated. You know she still feels guilty about what happened, for fallin’ so easily under Nettie’s mind control. This is her way of trying to make up for it.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.” Almost from the time they’d gotten home last night, the cook had been trying to ply her with biscuits and cookies. A side of ham. Whatever happened to be close at hand. She sighed and sent Logan a resigned look. “I’ll be in shortly.”
Giving a nod of acknowledgment, he left her with Floyd. She ran her fingers through the scruff of fur along the dog’s neck, her attention returning to the Pathfinder across the way. “I’m bringing him back to me, Floyd. No matter what it takes.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The stately Italianate manor housing the southern headquarters for the National Alliance of Witches wasn’t as big and imposing as Jemma had thought it would be. For starters, it was half the size of the Beaumont coven house. Still, the building that sat nestled in the heart of one of Savannah’s historic squares held a quaint charm. If not for the imposing mission facing her, she would have enjoyed just hanging out in the tropical oasis of the front courtyard.
“Ready?”
She met Clarissa’s worried look. “Absolutely.” Hopefully the conviction she’d injected in the word would transfer to her jittery nerves. Smoothing the hem of her top, she followed Clarissa past the arched entryway. They entered a spacious front vestibule. An enormous palm-shaped ceiling fan briskly stirred the air overhead, providing a cool, pleasant contrast to the mugginess outside. A young woman sporting a brunette bob and tortoise-frame glasses sat at a small desk situated in front of another doorway. She glanced up from her computer when they approach
ed.
Clarissa brushed aside her bangs before flicking her gaze toward the closed door. “I trust they’re waiting for us in there, Willa?”
“Yes. And be warned. Domino is in a regular snit today.”
Clarissa’s eyebrows arched. “What’s new about that?”
Jemma couldn’t say for certain, but she swore a faint smile shadowed Willa’s mouth. The younger woman reached for the phone sitting at the corner of her desk. “I’ll let them know you’re here.”
Clarissa leaned over and coaxed the phone back into its cradle. “Why spoil the fun of a grand entrance?”
Willa’s eyes sparkled in conspiratorial glee behind her glasses. “Be my guest.”
Cupping Jemma’s elbow, Clarissa shoved the door open. The eight individuals clustered around a boardroom table swung their focus toward the doorway, and Jemma dug deep for the self-assurance necessary to bend these people to her will.
A statuesque woman with frosty blonde highlights that matched her demeanor lifted from her seat at the head of the table. “Ms. Miles, Ms. Beaumont, how kind of you to notify us of your arrival.”
There was no mistaking the reprimand in the woman’s voice. Jemma stepped forward, her spine straightening. “It’s Finnegan.”
The Nordic ice queen blinked, obviously taken aback. Jemma wasn’t sure if the woman’s discomposure stemmed from being corrected in front of her colleagues. Frankly, she didn’t give a rat’s ass. Before this meeting concluded, she planned on making everyone in this room regret ever hearing her name, much less getting it wrong.
The blonde woman transferred her attention to Clarissa, giving Jemma a deliberate brush-off. “I had Willa research the term Gorasola. Turns out it’s the name of one of Antoinette’s demon familiars. Specifically, the one she would summon to collect souls for her. Only this time, it seems the demon imprisoned Nettie’s soul back into her corpse.”
Clarissa grunted. “Guess Nettie pissed off her familiar one too many times.”
The elderly gentleman sitting across from the blonde fiddled with his handlebar mustache. “Ms. Finnegan’s genetic link with Antoinette must have given her the ability to command the demon. Perhaps it would be in our best interest to further examine Jemma’s latent abilities.”
Suddenly feeling an uncomfortable kinship with lab rats, Jemma stacked her arms over her chest. “I’m going to get right to the point. If you want a chance in hell of poking and prodding at me, it’s going to cost you.”
The blonde woman cocked an eyebrow. “Your price?”
“Griff. You’re going to return him to me. Now.”
An uncomfortable silence descended on the room. Jemma stared down each guild member until they one by one dropped their gazes to the floor. All except for the ice queen. Probably nothing short of spontaneous blindness would make that chick back down from a challenge against her superiority.
“Ms. Finnegan, I understand why you’re upset, and I sympathize with your predicament. But rules are implemented for a reason.” Mimicking Jemma’s posture, the woman leaned her hip against the table edge. “Griffin Trudeau broke the most sacred rule of all and as such, lit the fuse to what could have been the end of every living person on this planet. His punishment is fair and reasonable. Believe me, we could have come down far harder on him.”
“In what twisted world is banishment reasonable?”
Impatience washed over the other woman’s features. “Let’s please not get emotional about this.”
The frustration and fury bottled within Jemma popped its cork. Literally. White sparks shot from her skin, and suddenly the ice queen went flying across the table and collided with a potted palm. Everyone gasped. Screeching in outrage, the woman untangled herself from the houseplant and whisked her hair out of her narrowed eyes. “Your request is denied.”
Her heart plummeting, Jemma returned the mixture of furious and wary stares shooting in her direction. “I—I have no idea how I did that. Honestly. And I certainly didn’t do it on purpose.”
The woman yanked her fitted jacket back in place. “This meeting is finished.”
“No, it isn’t. Please, you have to bring Griff back.” Her voice cracking, she sent a pleading look to the other members. The cowards refused to even acknowledge her.
Clarissa’s hand tucked over Jemma’s limp one. “Sometimes you can’t win a battle on the first maneuver.”
“But—”
“Tomorrow.” Clarissa gave an encouraging squeeze. “We’ll come back then.”
Swallowing past a thick lump of misery, Jemma allowed Clarissa to tug her through the doorway. They were halfway to the exit when a soft cough sounded behind them. Jemma turned and met Willa’s tentative smile.
“Just so you know, I’m rooting for you.”
Good. Because she’d need all the help she could get.
Rather than immediately returning to the coven house, Clarissa drove a few miles north to one of the larger parks that seemed to make up just about every square within the city. She shut off the engine of her sporty red convertible. Jemma made no move to unclick her seat belt. “I’m not exactly up for sightseeing.”
“I know. But I think you should come with me anyway.”
Sighing, Jemma released her belt and climbed from the car. Her steps sluggish, she followed Clarissa to a vacant bench near the giant fountain in the middle of the park. Clarissa sat, her expression clearly implying that she expected Jemma to do the same. She’d left her will to fight back at the alliance headquarters, so she sank next to Clarissa with barely a grumble.
“I used to come here when I was a little girl. It was my favorite escape.”
She was in no mood for small talk, but she gave in anyway. “Your parents brought you here?”
“No. I came here to get away from them.” Apparently tuning in to Jemma’s silent curiosity, Clarissa turned her head, squinting against the glare of the sun. “They didn’t abuse me, if that’s what you’re wondering. They were pretty much too wrapped up in abusing each other for that.”
“I can’t even imagine living like that.”
A brief pang of some dark emotion flickered in Clarissa’s eyes before disappearing. “You’re close with your family. Griff used to tell me about the fun adventures all of you shared together.” A sad, wistful smile fluttered across Clarissa’s lips. “I used to think his motive for telling me those things was to punish me for being such a bitch at times. Now I know it was how he kept you close to him when duty called him here.”
She didn’t know what to say in the face of Clarissa’s painful yet heartfelt confession. Words didn’t somehow seem adequate.
Clarissa rubbed her palm along the worn knee of her jeans. “I’ve made a habit of living my life from the sidelines. Keeping everyone at a safe distance. It’s easier that way. But I know it hurt Griffin. More than anything, I regret not being able to change that.”
“Griff wouldn’t hold it against you.” Just thinking about the capacity of his forgiveness brought the ache rushing back. She blinked, desperately trying to defeat the deluge of tears.
“This is where I called him to me.”
The announcement managed to edge Jemma past the danger zone and she sniffled. A smile of fond remembrance lit Clarissa’s face. “I was so excited. My first familiar. I of course didn’t have a damn idea what I was doing, or what to truly expect, but he came tumbling out of those rhododendrons over there. Buck naked. Good thing it was two o’clock in the morning and no one was around.”
Some of the misery lifted from Jemma’s heart and she chuckled along with Clarissa. They sat there, oblivious of the tourists coming and going, of time passing, and simply shared their favorite memories of Griff, each in their own way keeping him close.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Five weeks. Each passing day made her die a little more inside. Still, she pulled her outfit for the day from the armoire and inspected it for wrinkles. A no-nonsense black suit. If that didn’t show the guild she meant business, nothing wo
uld. Securing her hair into a sleek chignon, she ventured downstairs. Logan met her in the entry, and she tossed him a frown. “I thought Clarissa was taking me today.”
He curled his palm around her elbow. “Sugar, we need to talk.”
“We don’t have time. I have to get there before Domino takes her lunch break.” She swiveled toward the door. “Yesterday that sneaky bitch escaped through the back entrance.”
“The guild is going on recess.”
She rolled her eyes. “Aren’t they a little old for the monkey bars?”
Logan’s mouth twitched. “Not that kind of recess. They’re all taking vacation for the next month and a half.”
She stared at him, a cramp seizing her chest. “What?”
He rubbed a hand over his goatee. “Shit, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you.”
“They’re leaving because of me, aren’t they?”
“Yes and no. They always take a recess. But usually not until winter.”
Six weeks. She’d never be able to last. Her knees wobbled and Logan caught her against him. His gentle strokes soothing over her scalp, he murmured soft platitudes as her tears soaked his T-shirt. She appreciated his kindness, but it was Griff she longed for. Needed. A strong desire to surround herself with memories of her love swelled within her until she thought her heart would burst. Wiping her eyes, she scooted out of Logan’s arms. “I’m going home.” A tiny bit of the agony dissolved at her decision.
Logan didn’t exactly look happy with her statement though. “Sugar, you shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“I won’t be. My family is there.” Just not Griff.
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea. How am I supposed to watch over you if you’re in North Carolina?”
