Spell Bound Page 55


“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You did, and you’re right.” I hefted my bag onto my shoulder. “I went through more of those files you gave Clay. They’re upstairs, with my notes on top. No references to Giles or Althea, but I found some that could be Severin and Sierra. I also pulled everything on Balaam.”

“I’ll get someone to grab them. I’m going with you.”

“Where’s your overnight bag?”

“At my hotel. We can swing by.”

I shook my head.

“I want to go,” he said. “It sounds like an adventure and you know—”

“It’s been almost two hours. If you really wanted to go, you’d have gotten your bag already.”

“I—”

“You feel bad because I was obviously upset when you backed out over breakfast. You want to offer to come along, but you’re hoping I’ll turn you down, because you don’t really want to work with me right now. You’ve had enough of that, and I don’t blame you.”

“It’s not—”

“Yes, it is. I wouldn’t come back to Miami. I kept stalling when it wasn’t safe for me to be out there, and you had to stick around to watch my back. I knew you’d stay, and I took advantage of that. I treated you badly. I’m not going to apologize because that won’t mean anything. You’ll accept it, and I’ll say, ‘Whew, glad that’s over,’ and go right back to treating you like shit.”

He sighed. “You don’t treat me like shit, Savannah.”

“Maybe, but I didn’t treat you well either. You said I was scared to tell Paige and Lucas about my spells. That I was scared of how they’d treat me, which is the same reason I haven’t moved out. You’re right. I am afraid if I leave, things will change, and I’m afraid if I’m not a spellcaster, things will change. Yes, I’m scared of losing them, but—” I looked into his eyes. “They aren’t the only ones I’m scared of losing.”

I didn’t wait to see his reaction. I didn’t dare. I hurried to the car. Troy opened the door. He didn’t say anything, but I knew he’d heard the whole conversation. He murmured something I didn’t catch, something reassuring, as I slid in.

When I looked through the dark-tinted glass, Adam was just standing there. He shifted. Shoved his hands in his pockets. Took one out again almost immediately, rubbed his mouth, then shook his head and walked away.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to cry, Savannah,” said a voice from the other side of the backseat.

I jumped and looked over to see a familiar figure nestled in the shadows.

“Paige was right,” she said. “You are taking this spell nonsense hard. I’m surprised. I didn’t think you cracked that easily.”

“Go to hell, Cassandra.”

Her perfectly tweezed brows arched. “Did you just tell me to ‘go to hell’?”

“Sorry, but I’m not in the mood, okay?”

“Did you just apologize for telling me to go to hell? Are we quite certain this spell problem isn’t actually demonic possession? Where’s the clever comeback? The biting quip? ‘Go to hell’? Terribly pedestrian.”

“Do you want me to say it again?”

Her lips twitched. “Perhaps. It’s been a very long time since anyone said it to me. Except Aaron, of course. But he says it so often it doesn’t count.”

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

The smile broke through. “Now that’s more like it.”

She settled back to take a better look at me. Most people squirm under Cassandra’s cool, green-eyed appraisals. Even Lucas does, though he tries to hide it. I don’t. Cassandra DuCharme is like one of those countesses you see in old movies, always elegant and outwardly charming, before she slams your legs out from under you with a pithy, razor-sharp observation. She’s a three-hundred-year-old vampire who’s old enough to say what she likes and not give a damn what anyone thinks. In a world where people seem to trip over themselves to be nice, I find her refreshing. Or I do when I’m not already nursing a bruised ego.

“I thought you were in Atlanta with Aaron?” I said. “You didn’t turn him over to an angry mob again, did you?”

“That’s better. No, Aaron is here. We finished speaking to the vampire who came to him after being contacted by this group. We arrived in Miami this morning.”

“And he’s making you sit in the car until he can escape? Or are you hiding here so no one can ask you to do anything?”

“See, a few minutes of my company and you’re already feeling more like yourself. Which is why, lucky child, you have earned the honor of my companionship on this little excursion of yours.”

“Ha-ha.”

Another brow arch. “You think I jest? Apparently, you are in need of a minder and I volunteered.”

I saw Lucas approaching and got out of the car, half closing the door behind me.

“Cassandra?” I said. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately, no,” he murmured.

“I heard that,” Cassandra said.

“I’m sure you did,” he said, then we both got in. “Hello, Cassandra.”

“Hello, Lucas. Not going to apologize for that rude comment?”

When he didn’t answer, she smiled. “Very good. A marked improvement.”

He turned to me. “Cassandra is coming to L.A. to accompany you on your lead. Then you’ll accompany her on hers.”

“Because she needs a minder . . . or she’ll wander off in one of her end-of-life fogs.”

“See?” Cassandra said. “I told you she’d do better with me around.”

“What’s the lead?” I said.

“A supernatural contacted the council, through Paige. A half-demon named Eloise, who reported seeing Anita Barrington in L.A., with someone supposedly recruiting for this movement.”

“Anita Barrington?”

Cassandra’s brows arched. “And they say I don’t pay enough attention to council records. Elena worked with Anita during that silly portal business.”

“Right.”

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