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I shrugged. “It may be nothing more than an overly active worry gene.”
He snorted softly. “Given everything that has happened over the last month or so, I’m thinking you’ve a right to worry.”
I smiled. “That is an undeniable fact. And I am probably worrying for no reason—the HIC wouldn’t have sent anyone inexperienced. Not after Chester’s death.”
“That’s probably the only certainty in this entire situation.” He reached across the bench and squeezed my thigh. “How about you stop worrying about other people’s problems, and just relax for a change?”
If the heretic escaped the hunt tonight and somehow got to the wellspring, it was going to be everyone’s problem. But I kept that comment inside and placed my hand on top of his. “So what does this cossetting you speak of entail? Aside from shower sex?”
He grinned. “How does a home-cooked meal of steak and chips, followed by a store-bought chocolate and honeycomb cheesecake—which isn’t as amazing as the ones you and Belle make, but comes close—sound?”
“Anything I don’t have to cook sounds amazing.”
“Good.”
We continued on in comfortable silence, but the closer we got to Argyle, the more I kept looking at the clock, and the deeper the sense that something was about to go wrong became.
But we reached his house without incident. The clouds I’d noticed earlier were now skittering across the sky and the threat of rain hung heavily in the air. The wind had sharpened dramatically, and the nearby lake was choppy and uneasy. Which matched my mood.
Aiden opened the door and ushered me inside. After tossing his coat and my overnight bag onto the nearby sofa, he said, “So, what would you prefer first? Food or shower?”
“Would you be terribly upset if I said food?”
“Anticipation will only heighten the end experience,” he said cheerfully.
Only if the end experience wasn’t interrupted by whatever it was I feared. I followed him down to the kitchen, slung my handbag over the back of a bar chair, and then sat down.
“Drink?” He pulled out a couple of glasses. “I have wine, bubbly, whiskey—”
“I’d better stick with whiskey. Mixing drinks is never a good idea for me.”
He moved across to the alcohol rack and pulled a bottle of Sullivan’s Cove—a Tasmanian whiskey that had recently been voted one of Australia’s top ten whiskeys by a number of wine merchants. I had a bottle tucked away for when the Glenfiddich ran out.
He poured two generous glasses and then got onto the business of cooking. There was, I discovered, something very sexy about a man in the kitchen.
He served up the meal and then sat beside me. Conversation flowed easily and ranged from music we loved to books and then on to movies. The cheesecake was served with coffee and both were absolutely divine.
I sighed in contentment as I scooped up the last chunk of honeycomb. “
Thank you. I feel so much better now.”
“No more portents of doom happening, then?”
I wrinkled my nose. “They’re being held back by the weight of cheesecake.”
He laughed softly but any reply was halted as his phone rang sharply.
“If that’s work, there will be words said.” He stalked down to the other end of the room and retrieved his phone from his coat pocket, glancing at it before he answered it. “Tala? What in the hell has happened now?”
He listened for several minutes, his expression getting darker. My heart sank and the trepidation I’d felt earlier broke free from the cheesecake and began pounding through my system.
“We’ll be there in thirty,” Aiden said eventually. “Secure the scene but don’t go inside until we get there.”
“What’s happened?” I grabbed my handbag and hurried toward him.
“It seems those instincts of yours were right.” He opened the front door and then hit the truck’s remote. The lights flashed brightly as the door slammed shut behind us. “There’s been an almighty battle at Ashworth’s place. Half the house has apparently fallen down. There’s strange puffs of purple smoke swirling above the remains of the building and what appears to be lightning intermittently erupting from it.”
“What about Ashworth, Eli, and the new HIC witch?”
