Center?”
“It depends on the night,” he said. “They have a number of private events, when it would be difficult to get in and do serious magic. But at other times there are only one or two guards covering a great deal of ground.”
“Maybe someone’s been asking about the event schedule?” I suggested.
“I will talk to them.”
“Okay. In the meantime, tomorrow I’d like to speak to the leader of the witch clans and the bodyguard protecting Odessa.”
Beau nodded, looking pleased. “I’ll have Maya arrange it.”
I stood up again. “I should get to the hotel, grab a few hours of sleep.” But I paused for a moment, hesitating.
“What is it?”
I thought of the empty mansion. “I’m getting the impression that a lot of your people won’t appreciate having me around.”
Beau practically puffed up, ready to defend his authority, but I raised my hands, placating. “Let me finish. I don’t give a shit what any of them think of me, but I don’t want to deal with people lying or working against me because of what I can do. And, to be completely blunt, you stepping down from power won’t do me a lot of good if I’m dead.”
Beau tilted his head in acknowledgment. “True.”
“I guess what I’m asking is, aside from the concern about being pressed, who do you really trust to help me?”
“The Horsemen,” Beau said immediately. “Warton, Hempstead, Milburn, and Vick.”
I already knew their names from Maven’s research, but I nodded like I was making a mental note. If Warton was any indication, the Horsemen probably weren’t going to be particularly welcoming, but Beau was sure they would cooperate, and that was all I cared about.
He thought for a moment, then added, “Plus Maya and Odessa.”
“Okay.” He hadn’t included Becca Rhodes. Beau probably trusted her to keep Odessa safe, but not with any sensitive information. “I’ll look forward to hearing from Maya in the morning. Good night, Mr. Calhoun.”
He gave me a grim smile. “Good hunting, Miss Luther.”
I hadn’t let Maya Elkins make my hotel reservation, preferring to book myself into the newest chain hotel on the same side of town as Azalea Manor. I figured I didn’t have much chance of keeping it a secret from Beau, so I let Warton drive me there. If I didn’t feel safe, I could always switch hotels during the day.
The moment we left Calhoun’s property, I put the mahogany obsidian back around my neck. The deluge of ghosts wasn’t quite such a shock this time, but I also squeezed my eyes shut right away, letting my head rest on the window.
I was tired of looking at death.
The hotel was just as new and generic as advertised. There were a few remnants floating around the lobby—a new building didn’t keep away the ghosts that were already on the grounds—but my room was on the fourth floor, and whatever had caused their deaths hadn’t reached that height.
In the room, I did a quick check of the closet and bathroom and made sure the sliding glass door to the balcony was locked. Then I dug through my bag for the new burner phone I’d put in my checked luggage. I tore it out of the packaging, plugged it in, and called Quinn.
He answered right away, sounding a little worried. “Hey. Did you get in okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” I said, feeling a little guilty. I’d left him a note explaining what I was doing, but I should have texted when I’d gotten to Atlanta. I’d been distracted by the ghosts.
I touched my necklace. “Thank you for the mahogany obsidian. It’s been a big help already.”
“Good.” His voice relaxed. “I’m glad you decided to go, but I wasn’t expecting you to be gone already tonight. He must really want you there.”
“Uh . . . you could say that.”
I told Quinn about my conversation with Beau, and he was, predictably, pissed off. “I can’t believe he lied to Maven,” he said in disbelief. “And he called you there just to play Most Dangerous Game with another witch? This is bullshit. You should come home.”
I thought of Odessa, vaulting herself onto her horse as easily as I could stand up. “I agree that it was a dick move, but I’m going to give it a couple of days. I need to see if someone really is stalking this kid,” I told him. “She’s not an active witch, but . . . she’s got boundary witchblood, Quinn.”
He quieted, picking up on the implication. “You think she’s like your mom,” he