A Kiss of Shadows(8)

"I don't see what love has to do with any of this, she said.

"If you love him, then it will be harder to free you of his influence, that's all," I said.

She didn't seem to notice that I'd changed loved to love. She answered the question. "I thought I loved him."

"Do you still love him?" I hated having to ask, but we needed to know.

She gripped the other woman's small hand in both of hers, knuckles whitening with the strength of her grip. The tears finally slid down her face. "I don't love him, but..." she had to take a few deep breaths before she could finish, "but if I see him, and he asks for sex, I can't seem to say no. Even when it's awful and he's hurt me, the actual sex is still better than anything I've ever felt before. I can say no over the phone, but if he shows up, I let him ... I mean, I fight if he's beating me, but if it's during sex... it gets all confused."

Frances stood, moving behind the other woman's chair, spreading the afghan over both of them while she hugged her from behind. She made soothing noises, kissing the top of her head like you'd do with a child.

"Have you been hiding from him?" I asked.

She nodded. "I have, but Frances... He can find her no matter where she is."

"He follows the spell," I said.

Both women nodded as if they'd figured that much out for themselves. "But I've hidden from him. I moved out of my apartment."

"I'm surprised he didn't hunt for you," I said.

"The building is warded," she said.

I widened eyes at that. For a building to be warded, not just an apartment but the entire building, meant that the protective spells had to be put into the foundation of the building. The wards had to be poured with the concrete, riveted into place with the steel beams. It took a coven of witches, or several covens. No single practitioner could do it. It was not a cheap process. Only the most expensive high-rises or homes could boast of it.

"What do you do for a living, Ms. Phelps?" Jeremy asked, because I think that he, like me, had actually not expected the two women to be able to meet our fee. We had enough money in the bank under the agency's account and in our own accounts so we could do charity work from time to time. We didn't make a habit of it, but some cases you don't do for money but because you simply can't say no. We both thought this was going to be one of those.

"I've got a trust fund that matured last year. I have access to all of it now. Trust me, Mr. Grey, I can pay your fee."

"That's very good to know, Ms. Phelps, but truthfully I wasn't worried about it. Don't spread it around, but if someone's in deep enough trouble, we don't turn them away because they can't meet our fees."

She blushed. "I didn't mean to imply that you were... I'm sorry. She bit her lip.

"Naomi didn't mean to insult you," Frances said. "She's been rich all her life, and a lot of people have tried to take advantage of that."

"No offense taken," Jeremy said. Though I knew that there probably was some offense taken. But he was a very businesslike businessman. You didn't get mad at a client, not if you were taking the case. Or at least not until they'd done something really awful.

Teresa asked, "Has he ever tried to get your money?"

Naomi looked at her, and you could see the surprise on her face. "No, no."

"Does he know you have it?" I asked.

"Yes, he knew, but he never let me pay for anything. He said he was old-fashioned that way. He didn't care about money at all. It was one of the things I liked about him at first."

"So he's not after money," I said.

"He's not interested in money," Frances said.

I met those big blue eyes, and they didn't look scared now. She was still standing behind Naomi, still comforting her, and she seemed to gain strength from that. "What is he interested in?" I asked.

"Power," she said.

I nodded. She was right. Abuse is always about power in one way or another. "When he said the untrained ones give it up so easily, I don't, think he was talking about your sexual prowess."

Naomi was holding on to Frances's hands, pressing them to her shoulders. "Then what did he mean?"

"You're untrained in the mystic arts."