Magic Misled (Lizzie Grace #7) - Keri Arthur Page 0,103

about the wild magic.

The café was situated near the corner of Lygon and Faraday Streets, an area where it was notoriously difficult to park. It probably would have been easier to catch a tram up, but neither of us had a smartcard Myki ticket and time was too tight to source them.

In the end, we were lucky and found a center strip parking spot only two blocks away, which meant we arrived at the café with five minutes to spare. The building itself was a small, two-story Victorian terrace, and quite popular if the babble coming out of it was anything to go by.

Ashworth stepped through the door first, holding it open with his fingers as he scanned the room, no doubt looking for our dark witch.

In truth, he wasn’t all that hard to spot, though not because he in any way stood out physically. The actually opposite was true. He was small, balding, and crumpled looking, but there was nothing simple or harmless about the energy he radiated. It felt like a wave of tiny fire ants crawled across my skin, making it twitch and burn.

If this was muted, God help us if he decided to unleash.

Ashworth wound his way through the tables and stopped in front of the dark witch. I stopped just behind Ashworth, unrepentantly using him to shield some of the waves of dark energy.

“Henry James?” Ashworth said.

“I think we’re both well aware I could be no one else, but I appreciate the politeness.” His voice, like his appearance, was mild. Unremarkable. Utterly deceptive. He motioned to a chair. “Please, sit.”

Ashworth did so. I remained exactly where I was. Henry’s gaze flicked over me and just as quickly dismissed me. Relief stirred. Obviously, it meant the inner shields were working, even if it felt like a storm raged deep within. Of course, that might well have been fear rather than magic.

Henry interlaced his fingers and leaned forward slightly. His expression was unconcerned, but his energy was ramping up. The ants had become hornets, and my breathing hitched a little.

“How may I help you?”

“We’re having problems at the Faelan Reservation with a woman who bears your mark on her cheek, and we’d appreciate any information you might be able to give us about her.”

Though Ashworth’s tone was ultra polite, the wash of his power increased sharply. He’d also lowered his shields a fraction, no doubt as a warning to the man sitting opposite. And while Ashworth would never be a match for a dark witch in his prime, Henry had fallen over that particular ridge a long time ago.

The dark waves eased, but my breathing didn’t. This man scared the hell out of me, and all I wanted to do was run for the door and get well away from the stain of his magic. The urge was so damn strong that I had to grip the back of Ashworth’s chair to remain still.

“There have been a few women over the years who’ve born my mark.” He raised an eyebrow, his black eyes glittering. He knew well enough who we were talking about. “I will need more information than that.”

“We believe she could be the daughter of Leesa Rhineheart.”

“Ah, then you could only be talking about little Honor.” A smile touched his lips, though there was nothing in the way of amusement or warmth. He picked up his cup and took a drink. “I want a guarantee that in providing you with the information you require, I will be given immunity for my actions. I’ve reached an agreement with my demons and now wish nothing more than to live what remains of my life in peace and without consequence.”

“I cannot give you such a blanket guarantee, Henry, and you’re well aware of that.”

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers playing lightly across the rim of his coffee mug. Darkness briefly rose and then fell away. “Are you willing to guarantee no investigation or repercussions for my actions in this particular case, then?”

“That I’m willing to agree to.”

“You swear this?”

“If you’ll swear that the information you give us is utterly truthful, then yes.” There was amusement in Ashworth’s voice. “I take it you’re recording our conversation?”

“By regular means and magical.” He reached into his pocket, drew out his phone, and placed it on the table beside his coffee. “You’re no doubt aware of the consequences of breaking an oath witnessed by darkness?”

“I am.”

“Then I also vow to this agreement.” Henry pressed the “end record” button on his