“A cool head serves you better than misplaced passion,” Cora said.
“I suppose.” Nodding to herself, Deidre shifted her gaze from the world outside the window to her mother’s keen eyes. “And you should know that I’ve decided to take a step back from RFW for a while myself.”
“Have you?” Delighted to hear it, Cora leaned forward and gave her daughter a fierce hug. “I’m so glad.”
Deidre hugged her back briefly, then pulled away. “I know my being a part of the organization wasn’t easy on you, Mother.”
She wouldn’t deny it. Even other heads of state had begun to question Cora’s authority when her own daughter was a member of what some considered nothing more than a veiled terrorist group.
“No, it wasn’t. Especially now,” Cora said, her lips thinning into a tight line. “After that raid on the internment camp in Nebraska, the papers are in a frenzy, demanding arrests.”
Deidre took a breath and asked, “Have they discovered anything new about that?”
“No.” It pained her to admit it, but there it was. Grimly, Cora said, “The missing witches are still unaccounted for. There are three guards dead and the security tapes—which no doubt caught the whole thing—are missing as well.”
Beside her, Deidre looked concerned and Cora was grateful for the support. Forcing herself to smile, she hugged her girl again and said, “Now don’t you worry, dear. We’ll find those responsible. Meanwhile, why don’t we see what Chef Patrice has for dessert?”
Deidre was silent throughout the rest of the meal, but Cora consoled herself with the fact that at least her daughter ate every last morsel of the brandied pears and cinnamon mousse.
Chapter 53
Chico swooped into the van to perch on Teresa’s shoulder just before their captors slammed the back doors shut. In the dim interior, Rune tried to catch her gaze. “I’m so sorry about your grandmother, Teresa.”
She shook her head, silent tears streaming down her face. Quickly, she swiped them away with her fingertips, swallowed hard and said, “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Nor yours,” he pointed out, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. The bird leaped away and sat itself on the bench seat opposite them. Its beady eyes watched their every movement.
The engine gunned into life and the van jerked forward, Rune and Teresa both swaying with the sudden motion. In seconds they were riding back down the rutted track toward the highway.
Rune ignored everything but the woman leaning against him. “I know what she meant to you. If I could change things, I would.”
“I know that, Rune,” she said and her bottom lip trembled as she fought for control of the emotions raging inside her.
He ached for her, and at the same time he knew she wouldn’t crumble under this latest onslaught of pain. Her strength shone around her like an extra aura, gifting her with the ability to endure, no matter the obstacle.
In that one staggering moment of clarity, his feelings for her deepened inexorably and he knew that loving her completely had always been inevitable for him. Teresa was the other half of his soul. Loving her was as much a part of him as the fire that made him what he was.
Lifting her chin, she blinked away fresh tears, lowered her voice and said, “My grandmother was the bravest woman I ever knew. She wasn’t afraid of Miguel. She wouldn’t cower and plead with him for anything. Not even her own life. She did what she had to, for us.”
Rune flicked a glance toward the front of the van. He had already inspected what he could of the vehicle and as far as he could tell, there were no monitoring devices back there with them. But he would take no chances. Lowering his voice to hardly more than a whisper, he said, “She didn’t know where the Artifact is.”
“Of course not, but Miguel’s too stupid to realize that.” Teresa leaned in closer, her voice now no more than a hush of sound. “I think I found the answer in Serena’s journal. The Artifact is in Barcelona.”
He pulled back, a jolt of excitement shooting through him in spite of the circumstances. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be,” she told him. “She—or I—worked dream spells. And in the dreams, there was darkness in Barcelona. A darkness that ‘glittered like black magic and shone with the light of a thousand moons.’” Sounds like the Artifact to me.”
“It does,” he admitted.
“There’s something else, too,” she said just as quietly. “Remember I told