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She hesitated, and then she said, “Yes. Yes, I think so. I think I’d better come in— If it’s all right.”
I couldn’t see anything threatening about her. But recent events made me even more cautious. “I just need to be sure—will you offer a truth-magicking? Just to confirm why you’re here.”
She nodded as if she’d expected that. A hint of power crackled into her next words. “I give my oath that I mean no one here any harm. I’m here because I had to get away from… from what was happening to me.”
The magic twanged off-key with those last words in a way that jarred against my nerves. I swallowed hard. She had a spell binding her from talking about “what had happened”—I could feel it. A sudden certainty swelled inside me.
“They’ve used you, haven’t they?” I murmured. “At the Cliff…”
A flash of panic crossed her face, so stark and raw I almost wished I hadn’t said anything. That was confirmation enough. I hit the control to open the gate.
“Thank you,” she said, sinking back into the driver’s seat. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble. I—I cast a spell to cover my tracks. They shouldn’t be able to tell I’ve come here, even if they’re watching.”
So they couldn’t bring her back to more of whatever they’d already done to her. “It’s no trouble at all,” I said firmly. I backed up to give her room to drive in, horror reverberating through me.
They’d used her a lot, the Frankfords and their faction. Drained her almost dry. How often had she faced the demons in the portal, been forced to contend with their nausea-inducing power?
That could have been me. If Dad had succeeded in his plans, if he’d managed to rope me into that deadly consorting with Derek or anyone he’d found to replace him… In another twenty years, I might have looked like she did now.
I glanced back at Gabriel, who’d been waiting near the garage. The same understanding was etched on his face. “Maybe I’d better talk to her alone,” I said. After the way her consort must have treated her, I didn’t know how much she’d want to see any male face.
He bobbed his head. “I’ll be in my apartment if you need me.”
I waited close by the car as the woman got out in case she needed any physical support. She walked toward the house at a slow and stiff but steady pace. A few times, her head twitched around to check the gate now closed behind us.
“I’m not sure…” she said. “I think the spell I worked will be enough. But you never know. They have so many ways...”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “You’re here now. They can’t do anything about that. What’s your name?”
“Thalia Ainsworth,” she said.
I stopped in my tracks at the bottom of the front steps. “Ainsworth?” I said. “You’re not—Tom Ainsworth’s wife?” He was another of my father’s associates, not as close as the Frankfords or the Almeidas, but he’d been at many of our Portland gatherings. His wife and consort, he’d always claimed in a fond sort of way, preferred to stay home and read, she disliked socializing so much. I’d envied her. But that wasn’t why he’d kept her out of the public eye, clearly.
I should have realized. I’d seen his name in the Frankfords’ files but not his consort’s.
Her lips pressed into what was only a smidgeon of a smile. “That I am. At least until I can sever that bond officially.”
She’d started to sway a bit where she was standing. I grasped her elbow to usher her up the steps. “Okay. Why don’t you just rest for a bit, and then we’ll figure out what we can do for you?” Imogen poked her head into the hall as we came in, and I motioned her back. I wasn’t sure how Thalia would react to meeting more strangers right now.
“There isn’t much to do,” Thalia murmured, almost dreamily. “They take the power… They want to be like us. Men aren’t meant to be witches.”
I almost halted again in shock. Was she saying that the men were trying to take—or did take—the demons’ power right into themselves? So they could work a sort of magic of their own?
“Is that what they do in the cave?” I said cautiously.
She opened her mouth and winced. “I can’t… I can’t really talk about it.”
I knew that feeling too well.
“I know. I’m sorry. Here, we’ve got another bedroom free upstairs. We’ll see how much we can talk when you’re feeling up to it. For now, just focus on recovering.”
If she even could recover from what they’d put her through. As I helped her up the stairs, the emotions churning inside me squeezed into a hard ball of fear—and rage.
How dare they do this to any witch? And every second I let it continue, I was helpingthem.
Chapter Twelve
Seth
