Heart of Vengeance (Alice Worth #6) - Lisa Edmonds Page 0,21

two words.

Well, crap. I owed Valas a big favor in return for how she’d helped me save Sean’s life. I got the sense she was about ready for me to fulfill my end of the deal.

“I can come to Northbourne after our meeting with Charles,” I said reluctantly. “I’ll let you know when I’m on my way there.”

“Thank you, Ms. Worth. I will see you soon.” He ended the call.

I made a face and stuck my phone in the cup holder. So much for fun with Sean back home. When they returned from their wolf run, there would be just enough time to swing by my house so I could pick up my vehicle and then drive to Charles’s estate.

Someone from the Court could drive me from Charles’s house to Northbourne and then home after my meeting with Valas, but I didn’t want a Court chauffeur. My binding with Valas chafed, though she had far less power over me than a mundane human. After months or years of manipulation by Charles, I was even more conscious of my freedom than before.

I might as well try to rest while I waited for Sean and the others to come back. This might be a long night. I locked the doors, leaned the seat back, and curled up.

4

When Sean and I arrived at Charles’s house, his head of security, Bryan Smith, escorted us directly to Charles’s office.

The enormous two-story room featured a sitting area in front of a massive fireplace, a full bar, and the office area, with a large desk and guest chairs. Charles displayed his collection of fine art in the upper gallery. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases covered three walls of the ground floor. A two-story window in the exterior wall overlooked the estate’s backyard. The curtains were closed tonight.

As usual, Charles was not there yet. He preferred to make an entrance. I was a little surprised at how annoyed I was about that tonight. Before, I’d never minded because it was just one of Charles’s habits. Now I saw it more through Sean’s eyes, as a power play and a sign of disrespect, as if our time was worth less than his.

Bryan interrupted my thoughts. “Would you like a drink?” He gestured at the bar as Sean and I settled into the two armchairs in front of Charles’s desk. “Water? Scotch?”

On previous visits, I’d usually said yes—if not to whisky, at least to water, but I wanted nothing from Charles. If I was right about him messing with my head, it might be all I could do to let Sean say what he’d come to say and not take a pound of flesh for myself. I didn’t want his booze.

“No, thank you,” I said. Sean also declined. Either he took his cue from me, or he felt the same way I did about accepting Charles’s hospitality.

If Bryan was surprised by our refusals, he didn’t let on. He went to the bar to pour a drink for his employer.

Sean leaned over and pressed his lips to my ear. “Morgan Clark and Vaughan had sex earlier in this room,” he said, his words barely audible.

Stunned, I sat back in my chair. Morgan was the daughter of Bridget Clark, the High Priestess of the Silver Thorn Coven, a local coven of black witches. The Court had enlisted Bridget and Morgan to investigate how Miraç had been able to steal my magic and memories, and to restore my magic. My good friend Carly had once belonged to the coven, but left almost twenty years ago when they began to practice black magic in earnest. She and Morgan had been like sisters before her defection. Morgan’s teenage daughter, Katy, had recently left black magic behind. She now worked in Carly’s coffee shop and had joined her coven.

Jealousy and anger lanced right through me like a blade. Magic sparked on my fingers and the bowl of flowers on the small table on my right nearly slid off onto the floor.

Sean’s expression darkened. I wasn’t sure who he was angry at: me, Charles, the Court in general, Morgan, or all of the above.

I gritted my teeth and squashed both the surge of magic and my anger. I didn’t care who Charles slept with. My thoughts and my reactions didn’t match. My brain said “Hmm…that’s interesting” to the news, while my body’s response was irrational fury and jealous rage. To me, the dissonance was more evidence of Charles’s influence.

“That wasn’t me,” I murmured. I hoped Sean would understand what I