The Werewolf Dates The Deputy - Kristen Painter Page 0,45
to work this out. Alice had to work this out.
He snatched his keys off the rack and went straight to his truck. Jenna was already inside, staring through the windshield like she was having a lot of the same thoughts he’d just had. He climbed in and put his seat belt on. “I know. It’s not good.”
“It’s not good at all,” she muttered. She looked at him, the slightest bit of panic tightening the skin around her eyes. “This isn’t personal, but I do not want to be tethered to you the rest of my life. Not with only a hundred feet of line between us.”
“I agree.” He started the engine and threw the truck into reverse to back out. “For the next three days, our new job is the same one. Get free of this spell.”
He drove with a heavier foot than usual, but he figured he could get away with it with a cop in the truck.
They didn’t get pulled over, thankfully, and they made it to Elenora Ellingham’s estate in about three minutes less than it usually took.
They got out and headed up to the big front doors.
“Nice driving,” Jenna said.
He looked at her. “Are you being sarcastic?”
“No. That was genuinely nice driving.” She grinned. “It’s a good thing I was with you, though. Otherwise, I would have had to give you a ticket.”
“Yeah, well, I know people at the department, so…”
She snickered.
He laughed. This was nice. But not nice enough to give up a lifetime of freedom for. He rang the bell.
Alice answered so quickly he wondered if she’d been waiting on the other side. “Chief. Deputy. Please come in.”
They followed her through the house. She was a small, prim woman, at least compared with Jenna, who had the kind of athletic build and blazing good looks perfect for a woman with a magical sword tattooed on her back.
But there was no mistaking the power Alice wielded. He couldn’t point to one thing, but taken as a whole—the glint in her eyes, the straightness of her posture, the set of her jaw—everything about her pointed to a force to be reckoned with. And she was.
After all, she was the woman who’d created the magic that made Nocturne Falls a safe place for the supernaturals who lived here.
She led them to her quarters. As they went through the double doors, Titus realized her quarters were one whole wing of the estate. He’d always known Elenora treated Alice well. He just hadn’t known how well. The furnishings weren’t as grand or opulent, but Titus imagined Alice wouldn’t have wanted them that way.
Instead, her space was much simpler. It almost felt like they’d entered a different building. This was definitely Alice’s style.
Crisp lines, quiet fabrics, with a lot of walnut, cherry, and stone. There was a serenity to it that he liked very much. He looked around for photos or touches of memorabilia but found very little. That also seemed to match Alice’s style. She was a very private person.
No one knew much about her beyond her brush with death at the Salem witch trials, where Elenora saved her. Alice seemed intent on keeping it that way. The power she wielded had earned her great respect in town, but she was also feared because of it. Outside of Elenora, no one really knew Alice Bishop.
They went straight through and into a room that felt very private and very personal. He didn’t know what witches called the space they practiced their magic in, but to him this was Alice’s inner sanctum.
A thick woven rug covered most of the slate flooring, and Gothic arched windows let in natural light. At one end, a mammoth fieldstone fireplace took up a good span of the wall. Close by was a comfortable chair and small table.
The remaining walls held shelves stuffed with books and the trappings of her craft, which seemed to be more books, bottles, and boxes. There were a few ceramic and glass jars, as well.
What he focused on, however, was Alice’s large, simple, wood worktable. It sat in front of one of the tall, arched windows so that it was bathed in light. Clusters of beeswax candles flickered on each corner, perfuming the air with the sweet scent of honey.
Old books lay scattered over the scarred and stained top, most of them open. The words he saw looked like Latin. Here and there, a few drawings broke up the chunks of text. Magic books, no doubt.