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“Would you like a drink?” He nodded toward the built-in bar across the room. “I have a particularly fine Cabernet Sauvignon.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
Valen folded his arms over his chest. “Before I reveal the information I received, can I ask what you were doing at the Warehouse this afternoon?”
Once again Peri surprised him. He’d expected her to dig in her heels and refuse to answer his question. Not because she had anything to hide, but simply to piss him off. It gave herinordinate pleasure to poke the bear. Or in this case, the lethal vampire.
“I took the shard I found in the barn to the playroom,” she said without hesitation.
Valen had forgotten that Peri had pocketed a small piece of the statue her mother had used to cast her spell.
“Did you discover what it is?”
“We have a theory.”
“Yes?”
“We believe my mother found a statue that contained a miasma.”
“Mage’s bane.” Valen straightened as he considered her unexpected words.
“You’ve heard of it?” Peri demanded.
Valen nodded. It’d been centuries since he’d last witnessed a miasma. That one had been created in a cesspool on the fringes of London during the Great Plague. The seething magic had looked like a crimson tar pit when he’d seen it, and the Cabal had commanded a protective temple to be built around the spreading abomination. Valen had heard rumors, however, that demons had been using the poisonous magic to destroy the local mages.
“I’m certainly no expert in magic, but from what I’ve seen in the past, the miasma is a corrosive power that destroys everything in its path. We didn’t see that sort of utter ruin in the barn.”
“It wasn’t created at the ranch,” she corrected him. “According to our books, the mages would trap the magic in warded vessels to contain it.”
Valen considered her words. It made much more sense that the miasma had escaped rather than being created in the barn.
“If your mother accidentally released the toxic magic, it would explain how the witches died. They wouldn’t have any protection against it.”
Her features tightened at the memory of her dead coven. “It’s a theory.” “It makes sense.”
Peri cleared her throat. She wasn’t as indifferent to the tragedy as she wanted him to believe.
“Why am I here?”
Valen leaned to the side, tapping a key on his laptop. There was a soft buzzing sound as a wall panel slid open to reveal a large monitor. A second later, a grainy, black-and-white image filled the screen.
“Gabriel sent me a security video I think you’ll be interested in,” he told his companion.
Peri swiveled her seat and leaned forward. She frowned at the sight of the shabby space that looked like someone’s garage. It had a cement floor, corkboard on the walls, and an open beam ceiling. Only the tables arranged in a haphazard pattern and the long counter near the back revealed that it was used for something other than storing lawn equipment.
“A security video from where?” she asked.
“It comes from Garland, a small town a few hours from your mother’s ranch.”
She sucked in an audible breath, her eyes widening. “Is this the local bar?”
“Yes, the Jackalope Station.” Valen studied her exquisite profile. She wasn’t puzzled as to why he would be showing her this particular video. She was anxious to discover what it was going to reveal. “You know about the incident?”
“Only what we could find on the internet. Does the video show what happened?”
“You can judge for yourself.”
Valen pressed another button and the video flickered to life. On the screen the handful of customers jerked into motion, ambling around the tables or leaning against the bar.
