“I’ve got plenty of shame, believe me. But don’t blame the Archmage for not warning you. We’re relatively new acquaintances.” I slide my arm across the top of the pew behind her, fingers trailing across her shoulder. “How about you? Do you know the family well?”
The hand clamped around my thigh is as wrinkled as an old paper bag, and she’s getting dangerously close to home with that grip of hers, but it doesn’t dim my smile a bit.
Right now, the old antique thinks she’s got me wrapped around her gnarled little finger, and I’ve no intentions of dissuading her.
“Oh, yes,” she says, rubbing me a bit higher. “Lennon and Celine are old friends—we all grew up together in Colorado. Went to college together, too.”
“The Forsythes aren’t native New Yorkers?” I make a mental note to run that by Rook. Could be insignificant, but archmages are regional positions elected by the local covens. I always assumed the highest ranking spellcaster in the city had deeper roots.
“No, but we’ve been here forty years now. We all moved out east a few days after the adoption.” Her eyes turn misty. “I can’t believe Hunter is getting married tonight. Married! I was there when the agency brought him over. Poor kid was so scared! Couldn’t blame him, though. He was only two at the time.”
“Huh. I had no idea Hunter was adopted.” Another possibly insignificant tidbit, but still worth mentioning to our spymaster. Now that we’re under orders to get snuggly with Forsythe, I’m sure Rook will want to start a full dossier on the man—if he hasn’t already.
“Oh, he was the sweetest little mage you ever saw, too.” The old lady beams. “I took so many pictures of him that day! I couldn’t help it.”
“Really? I’d love to see them. Portraiture is actually a hobby of mine.” This, at least, is genuine. When I’m not canvasing the streets of New York for someone to bury—metaphorically, of course—I’m out there with my old Nikon, escaping into a better world through the lens.
“They’re gone.” She leans in close, wetting her lips to share the next tasty morsel. “Lennon made me destroy them and swear a blood oath I’d never tell anyone in New York about the adoption.”
I raise a brow, my flirtatious grin growing wider. “If this is your idea of keeping oaths, I best mind my pillow talk tonight, lest I unintentionally reveal any state secrets.”
A wheezy laugh escapes her lips. “At my age, I’ve stopped worrying about old oaths. I can’t even tell you how many I’ve made. It’s all a blur when you’re on the downward slide.”
“Forty is hardly the downward slide.”
“Now you’re just trying to get into my pants!”
“Ahh, but you’re wearing a dress, my love,” I tease, still stroking her shoulder. Then, steering us back on track, “Why didn’t Lennon want pictures of Hunter? Seems odd for a new father, no?”
“He doesn’t want anyone to know his son’s adopted.”
Nowthatsounds like something a bit more significant. In fact, it sounds like a secret worthy of spilling.
“Why ever not?”
“He’s always had ambitions to be Archmage,” she says. “For him and his son both. And you know how mages are about their bloodlines. He thinks if people know Hunter isn’t actually a pureblood Forsythe, the upper echelons of the shadow magic society will shun him. Something like that could reflect badly on the whole family.”
I offer a sympathetic nod. “That sounds unbearable.”
“It sounds like a load of horseshit, because it is. Want to know whatIthink?”
Her fingers graze the edge of my balls as she leans in closer, and I swallow my revulsion, hoping like hell I don’t have to make good on that dicking after all. Sure, I’ve been known to lower the bar a time or two in service of uncovering the best dirt on a target, but this? This is next-level. I’m not sure the woman even has her own teeth.
But she’s clearly got the scoop, and a job’s a job, so…
Brushing my lips against her ear, I drop my voice to a sultry whisper and say, “I wouldverymuch like to know what you think, Ms. Deveroux.”
She casts a furtive glance around the nave. Satisfied no one’s eavesdropping, she blurts out, “Lennon doesn’t want anyone to know he can’t get it up. Never could.”
“He… I… excuse me?”
“Oh, yes. He’s always had issues in that area.”
“And you know this because…?”
“Who do you think kept him company before he started shacking up with Celine?” At this, her voice goes from bombshell to bitter in a single breath. “The little slut screwed everything up. It should bemesitting in that front pew, not her. Hunter should’ve been mine. Lennon and I always talked about adopting one day.”
“I see.” With a deep sigh, I remove my arm from around her shoulder, my hopes unceremoniously dashed.
