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An explosion of shabby-chic pieces assaulted my eyes. A settee and two armchairs covered in a faded pink and white floral pattern sat in the center of the room in front of a fireplace with an ornately carved white mantel. Two white oval end tables and a coffee table with curlicue edging clustered with the seating while a painted pale aquamarine sideboard hugged the extreme right-hand wall. Every living room wall sported the same hideous floral pattern of the furniture.
The whole place had the feel of something long abandoned, and but for the lack of dust, I would have believed no one had been here in years.
An arch at the back of the room led to a dining room, filled with out-of-date painted furniture as if someone attempted to burnish curbside discards with a coat of whitewash. I dragged my groceries through the next arch to a more modern kitchen. At least the appliances were current and the cupboards freshly painted. The window over the sink looked onto a massive backyard, that now at dawn, was touched by a gorgeous pink and orange sunrise. The backyard was a testament to the maxim that strong fences make good neighbors. An eight-foot-high fence bounded it on all sides.
Off either side of the kitchen shot off short hallways leading to the bath and three small bedrooms filled with the same painted discards of a bygone era. Yep, whoever decorated this place went artless shabby-chic to the max.
I don’t get it. Thorn owned this? As a safe house? I can’t imagine him using this as anything but a torture chamber. The floral seating alone stabbed anyone’s eyeballs.
Filled with questions, I stashed the groceries, stuffing even the dry goods in the fridge because I don’t want to deal with sorting them into something resembling order in the cupboards.
Someone’s mother didn’t teach my personal shopper good eating habits, because a lot of this food was junk. Among the dry goods, I discovered bread, peanut butter, and jelly. But they also contained boxes of toaster pastries, mac and cheese, and several bags of different flavors of pork rinds, corn, and potato chips. The crowning glory was a half-dozen extra-large frozen dinners. The only thing this grocery order missed from this man-cave feast was beer.
Where was the beer?
I ransacked the bags and found nothing to drink, damn it.
After contemplating my breakfast choices—bland toaster pastries, a bag of jalapeño pork rinds, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, or frozen barbecued ribs and mashed potatoes, I decided on the PB&J.
Chastity would love that,I thought. My roommate had an unholy love of PB&J. And then I remembered she would return from her trip soon. I checked my phone. Yep. She was due today.
And the pack was watching the apartment.
She was a witch, no stranger to magic, the pack, and frankly, had more preternatural experience than I did. But she’s human. Without time to prepare protective spells, a single wolf could down her easily.
If it occurred to Kye that it would hurt me to kidnap her to force me to hand over the talismans I possessed, he’d send one of his henchmen to do it.
I unfolded the handkerchief and examined the stone eye again. The hypnotic glow that emanates from deep inner pulses begged me to touch the glassy surface.
I turned it over, carefully keeping the cloth between my skin and the stone, looking for additional markings.
Chastity could tell me what this was. For some things, she was better than a library of supernatural tomes.
Hesitantly, I hid the eye in the silk cloth square and shoved it behind a fireplace stone that had lost some of its mortar. This reduced the temptation to touch it and kept it off my physical person. What better place than Thorn’s warded safe house to keep this damned talisman?
I dialed Chastity, expecting to leave a message, but she answered on the second ring. “Hey, I just walked in the door and saw your note. Is Kye acting the ass again?”
Surprised into silence, I didn’t answer.
“Oh. Shit, sorry, love. Of course, Kye is,” she said.
“Well, it’s worse than that. I don’t think you should stay in the apartment.”
“Why? Where are you?”
“It’s a weird story.”
“Are you going to tell me ‘It’s complicated,’ when in fact you’re shacking up with one of the University’s football players?”
I laughed. Chastity could always make a serious situation lighthearted. It was one of the reasons I loved her.
“Well, it is complicated. Have you unpacked yet?”
“Well, no.”
“Sit tight. I’m sending someone to pick you up.”
“Wait. What?”
