Proof of Life (The Potentate of Atlanta #4) - Hailey Edwards Page 0,63
blood and crushed herbs perfumed the air, and with the AC blasting, it was as cold as the grave. He couldn’t wait to escape. Ford looked primed to bolt with or without the car stopping first, but the pomp didn’t bother Hadley.
Plus, he couldn’t argue with Linus’s reasoning. The Swyft database had been hacked in the past. They couldn’t risk it, or a cab company, giving away their location. Ford’s truck, while convenient, was hardly inconspicuous. Better to use an untraceable mode of transportation than to announce their plans.
The crimson sedan rolled to a stop, and the driver peered through his pristine windshield at the derelict surroundings with faint concern.
“Master Lawson requested I drop you here,” the driver said in a wooden tone. “Does that suit Madam?”
“This is fine.” Hadley offered him a polite smile. “We can walk from here.”
The driver exited the car, circled the trunk, and opened her door.
“Thank you,” she murmured, tucking a folded bill into his front jacket pocket.
That brightened his mood considerably, and he dipped his chin. “You’re most welcome.”
Midas ducked out onto the sidewalk behind her and filled his lungs with fresh night air.
“Move it.” Ford shoved him in the spine. “I want out too.”
Joining Hadley on the sidewalk, he gave Ford enough room to soothe his twitchy inner beast.
The driver sniffed at them, bowed to Hadley, then got in the car and left.
Ford growled at the receding taillights. “He wouldn’t even look at us.”
“Trust me, you’re in good company.” Wry amusement kicked up Hadley’s lips. “He wouldn’t have looked at me either if he had a clue I’m not High Society.”
“You’re the potentate’s apprentice,” Ford argued. “I figured that’s why he was deferential.”
“Uh, no.” She chuckled and started walking toward their final destination. “Linus told him I was a friend, which is how we got the car service in the first place. The driver made the assumption that Linus would only have High Society friends, and we didn’t bother correcting him.”
“That’s ten kinds of messed up, darlin’.”
“That’s the Society for you.” Her smile spread. “Whenever I get good and offended by the disparagement, I fantasize about the Low Society rising up against their High Society overlords.” She laughed. “But that will never happen. They have magic, and we don’t. It wouldn’t be a fair fight. More like a slaughter.”
“You might want to keep that fantasy under your hat when you’re around Linus.”
“Linus and Grier are well aware of the inequalities of the system we were born into, and they thwart it at every opportunity with their progressivism, but they only get away with being eccentric because they’re both stupid powerful and filthy rich.”
“I haven’t noticed a status gap as much in Atlanta.” Midas frowned. “Is that your doing?”
Shifters adored her for treating them like people, with thoughts, dreams, feelings. He could picture the Low Society embracing a woman who broke through the glass ceiling with gusto too.
“As much as I would love to take credit for it, Atlanta isn’t as deep in the Society’s pocket as Savannah. They’re old school there. Makes sense, with the Lyceum downtown and all. Atlanta is more of a melting pot, and it allows those class lines to blur.”
A peculiar tang in the air hit the back of Midas’s throat, and he motioned for the others to slow.
Glancing at Ford, he asked, “Do you smell that?”
The comment perked Ambrose’s ears, and Hadley’s shadow crept across the pavement before them.
“No.” Ford shook his head. “I’ll have to get closer.”
“Don’t leave me hanging.” Hadley closed her hand over Midas’s upper arm. “What is it?”
“Blood.” He flared his nostrils, but the scent didn’t fade. “And black magic.”
Her nails dug in, almost piercing his skin. “That’s not unexpected, right?”
The question she asked wasn’t the one she wanted answered, and he came up empty on platitudes.
“The coven leaves behind a stain wherever they go,” Ford said, sparing him. “That’s a fact.”
“They also leave wards behind.” She stared ahead. “Nasty ones.”
“Are you sure you want to go in?” Midas cupped her cheek. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes,” she said, withdrawing with a wane smile. “I do.”
Part of her stubborn determination stemmed from a responsibility to her family, and he respected that. A larger portion of her disliked leaning on anyone, him included, out of fear everything she had worked for would be snatched out of her hands if she showed any signs of weakness. That part broke his heart.
The shadow reappeared in a blink and stabbed through her temple, causing her to wobble