Jasper cast a smile in their direction, looking at his watch. “You’re early.”
A woman cautiously stepped out of the shadows, scowling as she glanced between us. She was tall, statuesque almost, with blonde hair slicked back in a low bun at the nape of her neck. Tattoos covered her fingers, expanding along her arms, and her hands crossed tightly over her chest. A small glittering ring hung from her septum, drawing attention to her pursed lips. Though she looked young, it did not necessarily mean she was. While witches did not live as long as vampyres or fae, their aging was slower than that of mortals.
“Yes, well, I don’t trust either of you not to fuck me over, so…” She shrugged as though that was all the explanation she needed to give.
I lifted my brow. Abrasive was certainly one word for it, but Jasper paid no mind. This is where he thrived, living for this sort of back-and-forth banter. He also had the innate ability to charm the most unlikely suspects, which is one of the reasons we had been friends for so long.
Even when I tried to get rid of him, he came bouncing back.
“Come on now, Sloane. How long have we known each other? Five? Ten years?” He placed one hand in his pocket and leaned against a pew. “Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?”
“Yes. Absolutely,” she said, examining her long black nails. “On multiple occasions.”
“Name one,” he fired back.
“Well, there’s the time I asked you to discreetly take care of a problem, and you ended up stringing my ex-husband’s body inthe middle of the square. Or how about the time you drunkenly told an entire bar you had just fucked me behind?—”
Jasper winced. “Okay, okay. I get it. I don’t know why you’re still holding that against me…” he mumbled, crossing his ankles. “Your ex-husband was an abusive dick. He deserved what happened.”
Sloane shrugged. “He did, but I didn’t need his death to be so public, and you said you would keep it quiet. You didn’t. Which brings us back to my well-earned lack of trust.”
“Then why agree to this meeting?” I asked, interjecting before Jasper could risk pissing her off further.
She studied me, her blue eyes blazing across my body as though taking me in for the first time. “Consider me curious. What could the infamous Rion D’Arcy need badly enough that he would dare the coven’s involvement?”
Her smirk told me everything I needed to know.
She knew what I wanted, but would force me to say it. She wanted us to beg, formeto beg. If that was the price, I would happily pay it.
“Three days ago, my mother attempted to break the curse on vampyres and fae. She wanted to sacrifice my wife to do this, however—” My voice broke as I cleared my throat. “My wife took matters into her own hands.”
Sloane rolled her eyes. “Oh, I know all about Leonora D’Arcy and what she’s tried to accomplish. But why do you need me? Where do I fit into your grand plan?”
“We need to know what Leonora is hiding. Her research and reasonings were cryptic toward the end. She mentioned something about a descendant of the sorceress that placed the curse on our peoples,”—I paused, gauging her reaction—“but we were under the impression that such a descendant did not exist.”
Sloane cocked her head to the side, glancing between Jasper and I. “And you think I would tell you even if I knew?” Shebarked out a laugh. “You vampyres… You really are arrogant, aren’t you? You think the whole world should fall at your feet, that the covens owe you something for the curse you caused upon yourselves.”
She was saying no.
Jasper stepped forward, hands out in placation. “Please, Sloane. We just need?—”
“No, thanks. I think I’ve heard all I need to hear. I risked my ass meeting with you tonight, but I’ve paid any debt I owed, and this is where my involvement ends. See ya.”
She attempted to storm past me with a half-hearted salute, but I refused to let her get far. Any hope we had of stopping my mother and avenging Calia’s death would be thoroughly lost if she left this chapel.
I grabbed Sloane’s arm and jerked her back, not paying attention to the small gasp of surprise that escaped her lips. “My fucking wife gave her own life in an attempt to stop my mother, and I will be damned if that sacrifice is in vain.”
“You’re damned, anyway. What does it matter?” she asked curiously, peering up at me. After a moment, her lips parted as though she had solved some great riddle. “You really loved her, didn’t you?”
I did. Gods, I did. And it was the most terrifying emotion I had ever felt. I could handle pain, and I was no stranger to rage. Disappointment went hand-in-hand with both. But loving Calia gave her power over me that no one else had ever come close to possessing.
I quickly stepped away from her and released my hold, mumbling an apology. “I will do this with or without your help, but I promise that the way without will be much bloodier.”
“What?” she asked incredulously. “Are you going to slaughter every coven until you find one that gives you what you want?”
“Believe me, witch… I have no qualms about taking however many lives I need to in order to achieve the results I desire. Do. Not. Test. Me.”
The silence stretched between us until it was suddenly broken. The sound of shattering glass drew our attention toward the chapel entrance, rooting us to the spot as we peered into the darkness to find the source.
