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Sweat rolled down her back, her gut churned, and for one brutal second the hate that she’d denied was there. It filled her body like sand in an hourglass, and her mother flinched at what she saw.
“Where is the grimoire?” Rowan exhaled and took a step forward.
Marie-Noelle’s eyes widened, and fear crept into her face. “Rowan, you can’t . . . it’s much too dangerous.”
Rowan laughed bitterly. “I’ll decide what’s dangerous. Getting our asses kicked every night by a bunch of demons is dangerous. Walking across the bloody street is dangerous.” Rowan moved until she was inches from her mother. Until she could see the tiny veins in her eyes and the wrinkles that creased the corners. “I’d rather face a thousand Mallicks and go down fighting than to give up and become his bitch. You got that? I will steer my own ship, Mother, and it will either find safe passage, or I’ll take him down with me. This has to end.” Rowan closed her eyes. “It will end on Samhain.”
Silence wrapped them all in a hot cocoon, and for several moments no one spoke. Marie-Noelle’s body trembled, her fingers clutched the book tightly in her grasp, and her eyes never left her children.
“Mom, do you know where the grimoire is?” Kellen asked gently as he moved forward. “Ro, needs it.” He glanced back at Rowan. “We all need it or Nana’s death means nothing. I know you’re scared, but we’ve pretty much reached the end of the road.” He touched her cheek, and she leaned into his palm. “Don’t you think?”
Marie-Noelle shuddered and exhaled. She nodded, her eyes lowered. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”
“Never meant doesn’t mean anything once it’s happened,” Rowan retorted.
Marie-Noelle nodded, defeat in her voice. “You’re right.” Her eyes cleared, and she gazed at Rowan. “You’re right about all of it, and if you need to drive that point home over and over again, I won’t say anything.”
“There’s nothing you can say.”
Marie-Noelle sighed. “He was just so . . . charming.”
“Who?” Kellen prodded.
Rowan stepped forward, but Azaiel’s large hand swallowed her smaller one whole, and she froze. “Give him a chance,” Azaiel whispered.
Marie-Noelle closed her eyes. “He was beautiful and dangerous and the sun was in his hair and he reminded me of someone.”
“Where did you meet him?” Kellen asked.
“I don’t remember. The forest? A bar in town?”
Rowan’s stomach lurched, and her fingers dug into Azaiel’s palm. Oh God, do I want to hear this?
“I just remember I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, he was there.”
“A name would be nice. Who?” Rowan yanked her hand from Azaiel and pushed past Kellen. “Who the hell did you give our grimoire to?”
“Move away from her,” Mikhail growled.
Rowan flicked her wrist, and the gargoyle was tossed into the wall as if he were a rag doll. His anger was fast and furious. Mikhail opened his mouth but was held silent by Rowan.
Her mother’s eyes hardened. A ripple of energy surrounded her as she glared at her daughter. “You will show him respect, Rowan.”
“Like you showed us?” she retorted.
Marie-Noelle stared up into her daughter’s face. “When did you become so cold? So hard?”
“This isn’t my intervention . . . it’s yours. I don’t care enough about you to have a heart-to-heart and relive the fabulous childhood we both know never happened. I care about the grimoire, and that’s it. So tell me who has it or . . .”
“Or you’ll hurt me like you did the last time?” Marie-Noelle’s voice was stronger.
Rowan sensed a fight, and she smiled though her eyes remained hard, jeweled stones. “I promised Kellen I wouldn’t do that to you.” She rotated her wrist, and Mikhail bellowed, obviously in agony. “It doesn’t mean I won’t hurt your little boy toy.”
“Stop this Rowan.” Marie-Noelle nodded toward the gargoyle. “Now.”
“Rowan!” Kellen shouted.
She whirled around, a sob escaping as she felt something inside her break. Her body felt weird. Hot and cold at the same time, but the power inside was something to behold. “Back off.” She growled the warning.
