Witch Blood - By Anya Bast Page 0,13
cold blood. Trust me, this woman doesn’t know the meaning of cold.”
Micah lifted a copper-colored brow. “So you think she’s hot, huh?”
Thomas ignored him. “I suspect she has a hell of a temper, isn’t someone to mess with, and I think she’s grieving. I also believe there’s something else going on with her, but I’m not sure what.”
“What do you mean?”
Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know yet. Her records only went back so far. The mother is a wealthy drifter, looks like. She travels all over the world, befriending men of means.”
“Prostitute?”
“Maybe not an outright prostitute, but a woman who hunts rich men for money and trinkets. There’s no record of a father for either Isabelle or Angela. Either their mother doesn’t know who fathered them or it’s because Isabelle doesn’t have a complete set of records in the archives. I actually thought I’d get you to do some more research on Isabelle and her mother, Catalina Novak. Can you do that? Dig a little deeper than what’s there now?”
He shrugged. “I can try.”
“I get an intuitive hit off Isabelle. She’s got secrets and I think they’re the kind deep hurts are made of.”
“Why do you care? I mean, why snoop into her past? Why is that relevant?”
Thomas rubbed a hand over his chin. “I want to know what we’ve just invited onto our team. If she’s got a bunch of unresolved issues that are going to muck up our investigation, I want to know about it. Anyway, I don’t think Catalina knows her daughter died yet. I thought maybe you might discover her whereabouts while you poke around for information.”
“I’ll keep an eye out. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re letting her help question Stefan. She’s dragging in a bunch of baggage.”
He studied his cousin. Micah’s mother, his aunt, had been killed by a warlock when Micah had just been a child. “You have your own issues with the Duskoff and you’re here.”
He glanced away. “Don’t we all?”
“Look, Isabelle spent a long time hunting the demon and struck out, just like us. Her sister was the second witch killed. She has a right to be here.”
“Yeah, well, I have a right to not like it,” he mumbled.
They looked up at the distant sound of clicking heels on the concrete floor. Isabelle turned a corner and walked toward them, dressed in a scoop-neck red top, faded, close-fitting jeans and a pair of red boots with heels. She wore her hair loose and long, little makeup, and no jewelry.
“Damn, you were right about her being hot,” Micah said under his breath.
“I never said that.”
“Yeah, whatever. That’s why you’re practically drooling on the floor right now.”
“It’s just the water-to-earth attraction. That’s all.”
Micah gave a derisive snort. “Uh-uh. I think I’m feeling it, too.”
Dark circles marked the smooth skin under her eyes and her face was a shade paler than normal. “This place is horrible. It’s so bad my skin wants to walk away without me.” She shuddered.
Thomas frowned. “You look tired. Are you all right?”
She glanced at him, then at Micah. “I didn’t sleep well.” She stuck her hand out toward his cousin. “I doubt Thomas will introduce us, so, hello.”
Thomas fought the urge to grind his teeth. “Isabelle, this is Micah. He’s sort of our official historian and record keeper. We don’t know much about the demons, but out of everyone in the Coven, Micah knows the most.”
His cousin shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure. Now, let’s get this over with. I’ve already been in Gribben way too long.”
They passed through the set of swinging doors at the end of the hallway and allowed a guard to let them through another set, giving them entrance into the cell block. All the small containment rooms held just one prisoner each.
The chambers were uniformly bare, with only a bed and small bathroom apiece. There were no bars. The place was set up more like a psych ward in a hospital than a traditional prison. The inmates were allowed little to no contact between them and they were never allowed to go outside, not for the entirety of their terms, since outside meant beyond the charmed walls.
“Has anyone ever escaped this place?” asked Isabelle, her gaze eating up the austere, depressing surroundings with interest. “Bribe a guard? Escape into the ventilation?”
Thomas shook his head. “There have been attempts, none successful.”
She glanced up at the white walls and shivered. “If I were an inmate here, I’d spend every second of my time