The Warrior King (Inferno Rising #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,37
her actions growing more frantic.
“She’s not here,” she said in a voice so low he knew she wasn’t talking to him.
He didn’t have to ask who. Meira had said home, and now he knew what that meant. Her home…with her mother. Their last home. Underlying the smoky scent of fire was a sweeter scent. Kasia smelled of chocolate. Skylar of cinnamon. Meira of jasmine. But here, that layer of ambrosia smelled of honey.
A phoenix had died here.
“She’s not here,” Meira repeated, louder, distress tightening the words.
Samael dropped to a squat beside her. “What do you mean?”
“There should be…more of her. Ashes.” She raised her head, her expression one of such hopelessness, even as her eyes implored him to fix this. “He took her.”
Seven hells. What purpose could Pytheios possibly have with Serefina Amon’s ashes, other than a need to disturb her final rest or hurt her daughters?
Meira was holding herself so carefully still, he worried she might shatter if a strong breeze touched her. The hell with others waiting for them. Unable to stop himself, he pulled her against him, cradling her head. “We’ll find where he has put her. I swear it.”
After a beat, she leaned into him, muscles relaxing. Comfort given and received in a hushed silence. Only the earth made noise—a soft wind stirring the grass to rustle around them, the sweet chirping of birds in a nearby tree. The sunlight wasn’t as intense as it could be where he came from, but his dark hair warmed on his scalp as they sat together.
She stirred against him and pulled back, then laid a hand against his cheek, and Samael’s heart derailed like a train blown off the tracks. “You’re a good man, Samael Veles.”
“We need to work on your sense of self-preservation.”
She moved to place her fingers over his lips, stopping his knee-jerk denial. “You are a good man,” she insisted in a stronger voice. “But don’t make promises you can’t keep. We may never find her.”
With that, she pulled from his grasp and stood—fragile and yet incredibly strong at the same time. Like the flowers over where her mother had passed to the next life.
“Angelika and Skylar will worry if we’re late.” She walked away, back through the gate. Now that he wasn’t looking at it from through the curvature of the lawn ornament orb, he could see clearly a small wooden structure with dirty windows, missing tiles on the roof, and the back screen door off the hinges.
At the back door, she paused and flipped open a small piece of wood in the doorframe. Frowning, Samael watched as she pulled out her tablet and connected it to the socket exposed underneath. Quickly, fingers flying over the screen, she set to work.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Meira didn’t lift her head or stop what she was doing. “Checking the security system.”
The security? His brows lowered farther. “That’s not like any system I’ve ever seen.”
Her lips tipped in a soft smile even as she continued to peck at the tablet in her hands, concentration focused, utterly in her element. Confident, unhesitating, and utterly in charge. As though he was getting a glimpse of the real Meira. “I installed this custom setup myself. We were pretending to be poor waitresses. We couldn’t have a state-of-the-art system visible—both for the humans and for any supernatural creature that came snooping.”
“How custom?”
She shrugged. “A fully integrated alarm system with video and infrared cameras, motion sensors, footstep detectors, and, instead of a command center, a hidden panel in each room to allow us to monitor and arm the house as needed. Outdoor sensors with a half-mile range. A protective blast film applied to the windows. Keyless biometric authentication both for entry and the system. That kind of thing.”
The way she rattled off the list had him staring.
She glanced up, eyebrows raised. “What?”
“What else do you do with these…skills?”
“Nothing too crazy. Doctored our paperwork to hide our aging. Moved our money around in different accounts.” Her lips twitched. “Mother told me to stay out of anything dragon related, in case they traced it back to me, but I had…monitors on your tech.”
He crossed his arms. “Uh-huh. What’s the shadiest thing you’ve ever done?”
She thought for a minute, brows knit. Then brightened. “I might have sent Pytheios to Antarctica on a wild goose chase for us.”
She paused, her attention pulled back to her device, watching closely as a series of videos danced across the screen. “Oh dear,” she sighed. Then hit another series of