It was . . . comfortable. Familiar.
Tragic, achingly lonely, but familiar.
“She left,” she informed Levet.
“Left?” His heavy brow furrowed. “What do you mean left?”
“One minute she was standing next to me complaining about the dust, and the next—” She waved a hand.
“Poof,” Levet finished.
“Exactly.”
Without warning the gargoyle was stomping away, his tail twitching and his tiny hands waving in the air as he muttered to himself.
“Aggravating, unpredictable, impossible female.”
“I feel his pain,” Roke drawled.
She turned back to stab him with a glare. “Not yet, but keep it up and you will.”
The silver eyes shimmered. “Release me.”
Sally wrapped her arms around her waist. She could feel his anger through their bond, but more than that she could feel a seething frustration that was echoed deep inside her.
That scared her more than his irritation.
“Why should I?” she bluffed. Yeah, look at her. All badass just so long as Roke remained trapped in her spell. “You’re trespassing on my property.”
He glanced toward the cottage. “Yours?”
She shrugged. “It was my mother’s, and since I’m her only heir, I assume her various houses are now mine.”
“She had more than one?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing the past three weeks?”
The silver gaze returned to sear over her pale face. “Running.”
She sniffed, refusing to admit that running had been a large part of what she’d been doing.
There had been a little method to her madness.
“I’ve been searching through my mother’s belongings,” she said. “I hoped that she would have left some clue to my . . .” She bit off the word father. Did a donation of sperm actually earn the title of father? “To who impregnated her.”
He frowned. “I thought you said that witches had a spell so their private papers were destroyed when they died?”
It was true that many witches had binding spells attached to their most sensitive possessions. It gave a whole new meaning to taking “secrets to the grave.” And her mother had been more secretive than most.
Still, she had to cling to some small fragment of hope. Dammit.
“They do,” she grudgingly admitted. “But she wouldn’t have destroyed everything. There has to be a clue somewhere.”
“Release me and I’ll help you search.” He studied her stubborn expression, silently compelling her to obey. “Sally.”
“Don’t growl at me. You locked me in a cell—”
“And I let you out.”