Thorn Queen Page 0,97

their world, with their magic...."

"It's part of who I am. You can't change that. And if you didn't want me taking drastic steps, then why'd you break the wards?"

Roland frowned. "I didn't. I thought that gentry had."

"No, he crossed them, but his buddies were locked out-for a while, at least. Then I heard someone undoing them. It was our kind of magic. I thought it was you."

"Why on earth would I do that?"

"Then some other shaman did." The accusing tone in my voice provided no need for elaboration.

"Stop this. Art and Abigail aren't out doing what you think. They certainly wouldn't break the wards so gentry could attack you. You think they're out in your neighborhood right now? One of the gentry must have done it. You were probably distracted."

"Have you lost all faith in me? All you keep saying tonight is that I'm wrong, that I'm mistaken. Roland, I know what shamanic magic feels like. Just like I know what gentry magic feels like, especially considering-as you keep pointing out-I use it all the time."

I'm not sure which part of my tirade did it, but I could tell he was done with the conversation. There was something weary in his face that made him look older than he was. "I'm not going to stand out here in the dark and argue with you, Eugenie. All I can ask is that if you can't control yourself for my sake, then think of your mother. Otherwise, do what you want."

"Roland..."

But he was already walking away into the night, and as I watched the man I'd always regarded as my father leave, I uneasily wondered whose daughter I truly was.

Chapter Twenty

Tim surfaced the next morning after some liaison or another, and I decided not to mention that our wards had been broken. He handled my array of paranormal activities fairly good-naturedly, but that was largely because they usually didn't follow me home. So, I called the witch who'd originally laid the wards and asked her to come back and discreetly redo them, scheduling a time when I knew Tim would be out.

After that it was off to the first shamanic job I'd had in a while, fighting a nixie who'd taken up residence in some poor family's swimming pool. The ease with which I dispatched her was a bit alarming. Earlier in the year, Dorian and I had fought off a group of them that Jasmine had sent. Dorian had done the fighting, and at the time, they'd seemed overwhelming. Now, with my magic becoming more and more instinctual, fighting a water creature like this was ridiculously simple. Admittedly, I still banished her the old-fashioned way, not wanting to rely on magic more than I had to. I didn't agree with Roland about its use-though my fight with him still stung-but it was exhilarating recalling how easily I'd fought the water elemental. If I could only summon water creatures like Jasmine could, my life would be easier still.

And speaking of Jasmine, I summoned Volusian away from her later that evening. I was going to the Thorn Land shortly and felt confident that she wouldn't get knocked up before then. Well, I hoped so, at least.

Volusian appeared in the darkest corner of my bedroom, scaring off one of the cats that had been sleeping on my bed. "My mistress calls," he said in his monotone.

"I have a job for you."

"Of course."

"I need you to go to Yellow River and check out the house of a shaman there. Do not let him see you-or sense you, if you can help it." My vibe from Art was that while he could fight Otherworldly creatures, he didn't possess the same sensitivity I did.

"And what would my mistress like me to do once I am there?"

"Look around. Tell me if there's anything suspicious going on-particularly in regard to any gentry girls. Make sense?"

Volusian's look was scathing. "Certainly it makes sense. Do not confuse me with the other underlings who serve you."

Once he had the address, he disappeared in that way of his, and I sighed. It might be worth enslaving another minion destined for the Underworld. It was easy enough for me, particularly if I got one who wasn't too strong. I didn't have a huge amount of respect for Volusian, but he'd been right about one thing. He was so powerful that his skills were better suited to protection and battle. A lesser spirit would suffice for all these errands I seemed to be sending