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I turned, stunned at first and then elated. Maxine! My clairvoyant buddy who lived next door to my cottage.
"Where have you been?" she cried, running over so fast the fake sapphires on her headdress rattled. Her colourful dress swished, so many layers dwarfing her body that she looked like a mini tent. "I've been so worried, you just disappeared."
"I’m sorry," I replied with a wince, unprepared for her to swallow me into a perfume-scented hug and hold me tight.
Crap, she'd been really worried. And now I felt like shit. I needed a cover story, stat.
"I got swept up in a whirlwind romance and th—heflew me to Paris."1
"The city of love? Ooh la la, he's a keeper." She let go and stepped back, eyes twinkling as she looked me over. "I'm lucky if my man takes me to Morrisons on a weekend."
"You can do better," I told her seriously. "You deserve Paris too, Maxine."
I tried to mask my impatience, but there was an urgent voice muttering, You have to go, you have a father to kill…
She made a soft sound, and waved her hand. "You're too sweet, Avie. Come, let's get a cup of tea and catch up. I want to hear all about your romantic break."
"Ah, Maxine, I'm kind of on a time limit here," I protested, my eyes wide when she linked her arm with mine and towed me across the field towards the far end of the tables. Damn, the woman was forceful when she wanted to chat.
Something nagged at the back of my mind, irritating as hell. I’d forgotten something. But it wasn't like I could forget I was here as bait for a trap to kill my abuser.
"You're always so busy," she chided me, giving me a heavy look I'd imagine a mother would. My stomach went all squirmy. "You need to sit down for a minute or you'll work yourself to death."
I hadn't told her what I did for work, but she probably thought I was an artist or maybe assumed I ran a business. If she knew I killed people for a living, she wouldn't be so concerned for me. And it was pathetic, but this wasnice.2
"I really don't have time," I protested when she towed me down the field, bossy as all hell.
"Nonsense," she huffed, patting my arm as she all but dragged me towards the last table where a trio of snooty-faced women in matching pastel cardigans, pleated skirts, and buttoned shirts were pouring teas and coffees into polystyrene cups.
I watched a brunette in a lemon yellow cardigan pour hot coffee—onto the tablecloth. Wow, someone was hungover on a Sunday afternoon.Been there, done that,I thought sympathetically.
"One drink," I huffed to Maxine, giving her a stern look. "And we drink it walking around the stalls; I've got things Ireallyneed to do."
"Deal," she agreed with a smile that made me feel genuinely appreciated.
I glanced at the tea and coffee stall again and—the tablecloth was clean. Woah, they were pros at cleaning. It wasn't even a wipe-clean cloth; it was white fabric with daisies all over it.
Wait—I'd seen this fabric. It was the same as the tablecloth in our old home. The one Dad and I stayed in the longest, before he collected all his minions and our home became too crowded with wannabe killers. The memory sucked me in suddenly, but I curled my fingers into fists, nails biting my palms, and hauled myself back out.
The lemon-clad woman was pouring coffee again, neither of her friends batting an eyelid as she poured dark liquid onto the table where a cup should have waited. I watched carefully this time and—holy shitcakes, one minute the liquid was there, and the next it was gone. What in the Matrix was this?
"Hey, Maxine," I murmured, jerking my head at the drinks table. "I think there's something up over here. We should turn back."
I was supposed to be bait to draw Eidolon out. But this glitch screamedtrap, and the last thing I wanted was to get caught in a snare when I was supposed to belayingone.
That nagging feeling in the back of my mind shouted louder. Unease crawled across my body, leaving goosebumps.
"This sort of thing happens. It's perfectly fine, love," Maxine replied breezily, her hand tightening on my arm and practically hauling me towards the table.
A shudder coursed through me, and I sank into the pool of magic in my belly, grabbing hold of—wisps of smoke.
What the fudge?Where was my inferno? Where was my blood and pain magic? It was like a heavy fire blanket had been thrown over my core, suffocating the flames.
Not good. Not fucking good.
I wrenched my arm out of Maxine's grasp, hoping she proved me wrong. But my intuition was rarely mistaken.
The moment my arm was free, Maxine planted both hands on my back and shoved until I had no chance but to stumble forward,
