So he was punishing her.
“We thought you were right behind us.”
His gaze hardened. “Don’t mistake me, Cally. My job is to protect you as the valuable asset you are. And to ensure your cooperation.” He drew a slow breath. “I would’ve preferred we worked together, got to know each other, but you made yourfeelings clear. For the record, mine haven’t changed. I find myself drawn to you more every time we meet.” He paused deliberately. “But I will still do what I have to do. The Order’s purpose is too important to let feelings intrude. Give me the runaround again, and it won’t be a pleasant phone call from your dad that brings you back to me.”
“And they say romance is dead.”
He stilled, his stare almost as intense as Antoine’s. “Maybe I deserved that,” he said at last. “Fine. Strictly professional. I’ll see you here Friday, 10 a.m. I’ll be here either way, and if you’re not…” He trailed off with a pointed look back at her dad’s house.
“I’m getting tired of the way you Order types threaten with every other sentence.”
“And we’re getting tired of your games, Miss Davis. We’re not fucking around. Help us, and you can have what you want—wealth, prestige, power. If you don’t, we’ll force you.”
Cally raised her chin. “Fine, I’ll help you.” It wasn’t like she had a choice, and she wanted that vamp dead anyway. “But I do it on my terms. No stalking. No roses. No threats to those I love. You think you can control me, but I have teeth too.”And I know someone with bigger ones.
His lips quirked with a hint of mockery. “We fight vampires, so forgive me if I don’t find you scary.”
It was tempting to show him, to see what her newfound strength could do. But that would only give him more information, and she wasn’t prepared to kill him. Yet. Especially not on a quiet suburban street in Milton, right outside her dad’s house.
Instead, she walked past him, heading for her car.
“See you Friday,” he called to her back. “I’ll text you my number.”
*
Boston, Massachusetts, Present Day
“This is the one he means,” Eve said, tapping the page of the tome. “It’s a holding spell.”
They were in Cally’s bedroom, flopped side by side on the bed with the book open before them. It was the only place they couldbe sure of some privacy. Antoine was across the hallway, asleep for a few more hours. Still, they kept their voices down.
Cally squinted at the spidery text, brown with age. “It’s handwritten.”
“The whole book is handwritten. My guess is it was manually translated from the Latin. Thesis in the old long form—looks almost like anf. That went out of fashion in the 1700s. I googled it.”
“So it’s older than Antoine. That’s confidence-building.” Cally read slowly, decoding the introduction. “Damn, it says we need a coven.”
“We have one.”
“No we don’t.” Cally blew out a breath. “None of you are real witches—no offense—and can you really see us dragging Zara, Lily, and Priya out to Milton on Friday morning?”
“I suppose not,” Eve conceded, “but you’re so much stronger now. The way you lit up that crystal in the Order’s study, it was like a little nova. Maybe you don’t need a coven.”
“It doesn’t mean anything, Eve!” Cally said in exasperation. “So what if we have the spell? It’s like having the instructions to a Lego kit, without the Lego.”
“Maybe,” Eve said thoughtfully, “or maybe not. You have the power, I have the spell. We try without the coven, and if we can’t get it… well, we’ll have to try again with them.”
“Darian said Friday. If we turn up and it doesn’t work, I don’t think he’ll look kindly on us delaying until the coven is on board—assuming they ever will be.” She shook her head. “This is madness. How will we know if this damn spell even does anything, without a vampire to try it on?”
Eve lifted her eyebrows pointedly toward the door—and Antoine’s room.
“No,” Cally said firmly. “Absolutely not.”
“Then we can but try. We have a few days. At the very least, we have to practice your Gaeilge pronunciation.”
“My what?Gwael-guh?”
“Irish Gaelic. It’s one of the oldest writtenlanguages in the world.”
