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“No, he’s not, but you’re going to have to trust me.”
Slowly the man lowered his rifle and let it fall to his side as he eyed Azaiel warily, then walked toward her. He stopped a few inches away, his slight shoulders hunched forward. Cedric’s gaze fell to the floor, and he moved gingerly, as if he knew Cara’s life’s blood had slowly drained from her body in that very spot.
Patsy Cline erupted into the silence, and the hair on the back of Rowan’s neck stood on end. Her eyes widened as a realization hit her.
“She’s still here.” The words were whispered, and her legs felt like jelly as she crossed the kitchen and stood in the entrance to her grandmother’s rooms. It was empty, of course, but she closed her eyes and concentrated, opening her senses and searching.
How long she stood there, Rowan couldn’t be sure, but the vase grew heavy in her grip, and her shoulders ached from the strain. And still the music played on for several seconds until it stopped abruptly.
A whisper of energy slid over her skin, and she shivered at the power she felt. He was there, just behind her. Azaiel.
“Can you see her?” she asked quietly.
There was a pause. “No.”
Disappointment rushed through Rowan, and she pushed past Azaiel, setting the vase on the table before turning toward Cedric. She hugged him fiercely, not caring as the tears that had been threatening for hours fell unchecked down her cheeks. His body, frail with age and—shock filled her—disease, swayed in her embrace. She smelled the sickness inside him, and it only added to her grief. How much am I going to lose?
“Miss Rowan, she’s gone.”
They clung to each other for several more minutes before Rowan wiped away her tears and stepped back. “I know.” She took the gun from him and placed it on the table. “Where were you . . . do you know what happened? Who did this?”
Azaiel moved to her side, and she was conscious of how large he was. How incredibly male he was. She couldn’t lie. There was a certain comfort in that, which surprised her. She’d only had herself to count on for so long, it felt strange to think there might be another to share the burden.
“I had a suspicion but wasn’t sure, Miss Rowan.” Cedric’s soft Southern drawl had never left even though he’d lived over half his life in Massachusetts. His eyes were wide. “She came to me in a dream two nights ago. Told me to make sure you were safe and to keep you away from Salem. I wasn’t sure if it was just a bad dream, so I came home right away but . . .”
Rowan digested Cedric’s words. “Did she . . . did she say how . . .” She paused, not wanting to verbalize what was in her head.
“Did she say how she was murdered?” Azaiel interjected, his voice level and matter-of-fact. “Or more importantly, did she say who and why?”
Cedric’s eyes narrowed as he swung his gaze toward the tall man. “I’ll ask again. Who are you?”
“Azaiel. As Rowan’s already told you, I’m here to help and will do whatever I can to keep her safe and find the bastard responsible for Cara’s murder.”
Cedric ignored Azaiel’s comments and arched a brow at Rowan. “And you believe him?”
Rowan hesitated. She still wasn’t a hundred percent sure about the mysterious stranger’s agenda, but she knew he meant her no harm. “He says he’s a friend and at the moment our allies are few and far between.”
“Huh.” The old man shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Surely you don’t think it’s a coincidence that he’s here now.”
“He says that Bill, you remember him, don’t you? Nana’s friend? Azaiel said that he sent him.” She watched closely as Cedric digested that bit of information.
“Huh,” he said once more.
“Where were you when Cara was murdered?” Azaiel spoke, and she jumped slightly, hating the way her stomach tightened at the sound of his deep timbre. Hating the way he stated the facts so coldly. But then, why shouldn’t he? It’s not like her grandmother meant anything to him. He was only here as a favor to Bill.
Pain lanced across Cedric’s features. “I’d gone to Louisiana for a few days to visit my granddaughter. She’d just had a baby you see, and Cara insisted I go seeing as I’m . . .”
“Sick?” Rowan inserted gently.
Cedric shook his head. “Yes.” A muscle splayed across his jaw. “Damn
cancer.” He glanced toward the floor. “Damn smokes. Cara had been on me for years to quit you know and last summer I finally did. I let her do some of her magick you see, and the craving went away.” Cedric snorted harshly. “Too bad the damn things left a little present behind.”
“I’m sorry,” Rowan said softly.
“Well, I’ve lived a long time and though I’ve not got many good days left, I sure will use what ones I have to make things right.” His dark eyes were lit with a feverish light. “Whatever you need, Miss Rowan. We’ll get the son of a bitch who hurt our Cara.”
“Okay,” she said softly. “Have you talked to anyone from the coven? Mariah? Abigail? Do you know where they are? Do any of the others know what happened to my grandmother?” She paused and swallowed heavily. “What about Hannah?”
