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“No, he was one of my mistress’s.”
I blinked. “I thought you said she had no fledglings?”
“None here,” Roger replied, his tone subtly changing. It was Maelle who was now talking. “I dabbled in their creation while I was with the coven, but decided it took too much time and effort. I am not the most patient of souls, and children—because in many respects, that is what the newly turned are, no matter what their physical age might be—are not something I ever wished.”
Something that might well explain her somewhat distant attitude to her own flesh and blood. “Does that mean this man survived the cleansing alongside your daughter?”
“He survived because he was not within the coven at the time and had the sense—and the control—to hide from my wrath.”
The stench of burning flesh was getting stronger. I stepped farther away, but the scent seemed to follow me. My stomach stirred more vigorously, and I swallowed heavily. “So, Marie sent your fledgling here, knowing he’d most likely die.”
“Undoubtedly.” There was no emotion in Maelle’s—Roger’s—voice. No care. “It is the second warning. With the third will come war.”
“You can’t start a war, Maelle.”
Roger glanced at me, pale eyes burning with Maelle’s contempt. “While I have no intention of starting a war, Iwillfinish it, as I have said.”
I rubbed my arms again, but the chill was internal now, and I doubted it would leave until this whole mess was over. “Your daughter spoke to me via a projection spell this afternoon.”
“And did she say anything of interest? Or did she merely warn you not to interfere, as I have done.”
“The latter.”
“And you will no doubt ignore the advice.”
“Like it or not, Maelle, I am what amounts to the wellspring’s flesh-and-blood protector. Remember that before you unleash hell on your enemies.”
“Then stop my enemies before I am forced to.”
“Does that statement encompass your daughter?”
“I have always been a distant parent, but I could not stand by and let you kill her.”
“And if she tries to kill me?”
“Restrain her.”
“And if I can’t?”
Roger didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. Kill the child, deal with the mother. I took another step back, as much to get away from the overwhelming sense of danger as the stench of death, but the bitter taste of bile now burned the back of my throat. I gulped in air in a vague attempt to control the rise but failed.
I spun, ran for the bushes lining the edge of the parking area, and lost everything I’d eaten over the day. When I finally turned around, Roger had gone.
Nothing remained of the vampire. Nothing except a vague scorch mark on the concrete and a few scraps of material drifting skyward on the strengthening breeze.
My stomach rolled again, but thankfully remained put this time. I sucked in another deep breath, then walked back to the SUV to grab some water and rinse out my mouth. Then I jumped in and parked it properly. After grabbing my backpack, I headed into the café, making sure not to step on the ashy outline perhaps forever burned into the concrete.
It was tempting—very tempting—to ring Aiden. Not because I felt unsafe or alone, but simply because I wanted his arms around me. Wanted him to hold me and tell me it would be all right, even though nothing could be until our vampires had either worked out a truce or killed each other.
But he’d already said he’d be here as soon as he could. I didn’t need to be hassling him when he already had too many deaths to deal with.
Once I’d placed my pack into storage, I headed into the kitchen to make myself dinner. I might have lost my lunch a few minutes ago, but that apparently hadn’t blunted my appetite any.
I threw on some steak and chips, and once both were ready, grabbed a bottle of sparkling water, then headed upstairs to eat my meal, watch some TV, and do a bit of research on the basilisk. Monty was right when he said there just wasn’t much information out there—not even Belle’s grandmother had collected much on them, which was a little surprising given how detailed her listings of other, lesser-known demons were.
It was close to ten by the time I climbed into bed, and to say sleep hit hard would be an understatement. I had a vague memory of the warmth of another body wrapping around mine, of arms holding me gently, possessively, but it wasn’t enough to draw me from slumber.
When I did finally wake, I was alone in bed. But the pillow beside mine was dented and the musky, enticing scent of man filled the air. I hadn’t been dreaming. Aiden had been here.
