Bell, Book and Scandal (Bedknobs and Broomsticks #3) - Josh Lanyon Page 0,10

seem like they took anything. They were in your office as well. You’ll want to take a look, but I’m guessing you won’t find anything missing.”

“If they weren’t here to rob us, why…” I tailed off at John’s expression.

John said bleakly, “My guess? They were looking for something they could use to blackmail us with.”

Chapter Four

The police came and went.

The fact that the police commissioner’s own home had been broken into meant the case would be given highest priority. The fact that nothing had been removed from the police commissioner’s home meant the case would be downgraded to lowest of high priority in a city where there are over fifty thousand property crimes a year.

Disconcertingly—for John and the boys and girls in blue—no one showed up on the footage of our surveillance cameras. Our security system showed no signs of having been disarmed, and yet had not been triggered by the intruders.

After the uniformed officers had reluctantly, apologetically retreated, John poured us each a glass of wine, and we settled on the sectional sofa in the sunken living room.

It was nearly midnight by then. We toasted a little wearily.

“¡Arriba.” John touched the rim of his glass to mine.

“Abajo.”

“Al centro.” We clicked the bowls.

“Adentro.” We drank. I finished, “Abracadabra.”

John expelled an amused breath, leaned forward, and kissed me. I kissed him back. Our mouths lingered, but then he drew back—reluctantly, at least—and said, “Do you have an explanation for what happened here tonight?”

“I think you called it. I think someone was looking for information that could be used against us.”

“That’s not what I mean, though.”

I made a face. “I know. But you’re not going to like hearing what I believe happened.”

“Hearing things I don’t like is part of my job description.”

I sighed, let my head fall back on his outstretched arm. “I think magic was used to break in here tonight. I think that’s why no one showed up on the surveillance tapes. I think that’s why the alarm wasn’t triggered.”

“Magic.” His tone was flat.

“You asked. That’s what I believe.”

He groaned softly, tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I really have a hard time believing this stuff.”

“I know.”

“Why would magical beings have to resort to blackmail? Why couldn’t they just force the rest of us to do their bidding? If there are witches, why don’t they run the world?”

“They run part of the world.”

I felt his stare and shrugged. “That’s the truth. There are witches in positions of power. Just like there are mortals in positions of power. We’re not omnipotent. We’re not…we’re mortal too, remember?”

“That’s what you’ve said.”

“It’s the truth. We have certain advantages—”

“What are your disadvantages?” he cut in.

I hesitated. “For one thing, there are a lot fewer of us than you. We’re not prolific. Few witches bear more than one child. Most can’t conceive at all. In the numbers game, we’re slowly but surely playing a losing hand.”

He was silent.

I said, “When it comes to our…powers, they’re more like candlelight than atomic blasts. That doesn’t mean one couldn’t achieve the same effect as punching in a doomsday code, but it would take a lot more than magic to achieve that end.”

He said dryly, “I’m happy to hear it.”

I closed my eyes. “This conversation makes me sad.”

I could feel his eyes on my face. He said gently, “Why’s that?”

“Because I know you’re thinking of all the ways I’m not like you, all the ways that I’m not human.”

John said after a moment, “But you are human. I know that. As for not being like me, that’s a good thing. I wouldn’t be in love with anyone like me. It still amazes me that you are.”

I opened my eyes. “I love you more than anything in this world.”

His gaze was grave and maybe just a little perplexed. “I know. Sometimes I think it must have been you who was under a love spell.”

I laughed. “No. Maman said not, and she would know.”

“Then I guess you just have truly terrible taste in men, ma belle.”

I wrinkled my nose at the feminine noun. “You do know belle is for women.”

“I guess. It means beautiful, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think it’s the right word.”

I snorted.

John drained his glass, set it on the table, and rose. He reached a hand down to me. “Come to bed, my wicked witch, and I’ll show you how much I love you.”

I took his hand and let him draw me to my feet.

The bedside lamp cast its own sweet, shadowy spell of satiny light and gentle shadows.