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He flipped the dagger into the air, caught it, and pointed it at the woman. “I warned you earlier.”
Her eyes narrowed, and the stubborn set of her mouth didn’t change. She wasn’t going to make this easy. “I’ll ask again. Whose grimoire, and why do you need it?”
“It’s my grimoire,” Kellen said.
“Yours?” Her brows knit together. “I don’t sense magick in you.”
“No,” he agreed. “I don’t suppose you do, but that doesn’t change the fact that it belongs to my family, and we need it.”
“Why?”
Azaiel strode toward her. “No more questions. Where would it be?” The anger inside bled out in his words, and she flinched as he glared at her. “Toniella, I swear on the soul of your father—”
“Enough.” She nodded to a location behind him. “There’s the room where Seth keeps parchment.”
It was of course not just a room, but at least there was order here, with parchment, codicils, ancient scriptures, and bound books all grouped together. They found the grimoire, a leather-bound large volume, on display on a gold pedestal. An ornate lock of burnished copper held it closed, while the worn-leather binding was varying shades of amber, orange, and brown. The name JAMES was etched across the top.
“I’ve never seen it up close,” Kellen said quietly, as they stared down at the large tome. He reached for it and paused. “Shall I?”
Azaiel nodded, suddenly wary as the silence once more weighed on him. His skin was hot, and the danger meter that he’d learned long ago was never wrong, suddenly erupted, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
“Let’s go,” he barked. He turned, took a step forward, and froze.
A half second later an alarm erupted and filled the room with a heavy reverberating song of vengeance.
Chapter 25
“We’re here, Rowan.”
Rowan woke suddenly and glanced at the clock on the dashboard of the Suburban. It glowed an eerie green—5:15. They were home.
She took a minute, rubbed sleep from her eyes, and slipped from the SUV. They’d been out all night patrolling, killing and cleaning up one demon mess after another. Abigail nodded from across the yard. She’d pitched a tent and was about to turn in. The Black Cauldron was officially filled to the brim with both human and otherworld, all of them there to help. There was some comfort in that.
“Everyone’s back, Ro. We’re all good.” She glanced at Priest and nodded.
Everyone was accounted for. No injuries other than a few nasty cuts and bruises. It was something to be grateful for.
Rowan said her good-nights—which was odd since it was going to be daylight soon. But the threat of Mallick’s legions had turned all of them into creatures of the night.
She trudged toward the house, each step more heavy than the last, and paused at the bottom of the steps. She glanced back toward Hannah and Nico. They were beneath the oak tree out front, their bodies mere shadows among the wakening dawn. Their voices were low, but they carried, and it was obvious they were deep in what seemed to be a very intense conversation. Hannah stepped closer to the shifter, and he didn’t move when her hand reached for his cheek. In fact it seemed as if he leaned into her touch.
Her cousin moved closer, and Rowan’s breath caught at the intimacy of the act. She tore her gaze away and stomped up the stairs. Her chest was tight, and she felt the unexplainable urge to punch something. Anything.
With a sigh, she pushed open the front door and tossed her ruined jacket onto the coatrack tucked into the corner. A tired smile claimed her lips as she spied the large crystal vase on the Queen Anne’s table. It was filled with fresh sunflowers, and the guest book was back in place. Cedric no doubt.
She glanced down at the open book, a lump forming in the back of her throat as she saw the new signat
ures. Priest. Vicki. Terre. Even Nico had signed the damn thing.
Her fingers traced the names, and she closed her eyes. God, she was so tired. Voices drifted from the kitchen out back, but she wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, and though she knew she should eat, all she wanted was her bed.
And Azaiel.
The unfamiliar ache was back, inside her heart . . . across her chest. She cleared her throat and turned. What was up with that? Only then did she know she wasn’t alone.
“You look like shit, James.”
Her heart leapt, and for a moment she was dizzy. The dead feeling inside her chest fizzled and broke as a smile crept over tired features. “I could say the same for you.”
