I’m here, at a table near the back.
My sister. Shit. Luckily Meredith’s was a four-minute drive from the Mage Council.
On my way.
* * *
Samael
“The grimoire is authentic.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you sure?”
Gloria, the witch I kept on retainer, sniffed in obvious offense. “You have your areas of expertise, demon. And I have my own. This is one of Cyprianus’s Black Books.”
Satisfaction roared through me. Cyprianus was a demon who enraged Lucifer, challenging him for power several centuries ago. Lucifer had ensured he was captured and forced through the closest portal. He hadn’t known where the portal led to, and he hadn’t cared. Unfortunately, for the humans in this world, Cyprianus had arrived, incensed, and determined to make Lucifer pay.
Cyprianus wrote nine Books of the Black Arts. When Lucifer learned what he was doing, he sent his best assassins to find him and kill him. They succeeded, but not before Cyprianus distributed the books amongst humans who had the most power, with the hope that they would one day be able to access that power and take down Lucifer himself.
The coven of witches who managed to wake the demigod and open the portals seventy years ago had used one of the Black Books to do it.
The grimoire in my hand would be added to my collection. I had six of them, with just three more to go.
“You allowed yourself to be taken by the witches so you could get your hands on this book,” Gloria let out a hoarse laugh.
I gave her a slow smile. “Did I?”
She laughed some more, and I turned, taking the grimoire with me as I stepped onto the balcony. I launched into the air, rising to my penthouse, where I landed and tucked the grimoire away in my personal safe.
My thoughts turned to Danica. While she likely hoped otherwise, I hadn’t grown bored and decided to allow her complete freedom.
To deal with the little witch, I had to tamp down all my instincts to dominate. The instincts that made me want to make herbegfor me. I had to continually remind myself that if she were the type of woman to submit, I wouldn’t be half as interested. Her commitment to disobedience and determination to buck any and all authority both frustrated and intrigued me.
Centuries of existence had taught me patience.
That patience wasn’t infinite, but I had enough time to allow Danica the illusion of freedom while I aligned all the chess pieces on my board. And then she would be mine.
2
Danica
It had been four weeks since my sister agreed to have that first drink with me. Now, we met at Meredith’s once a week, exchanging pleasantries and tiptoeing around the subject of our childhood. We were both trying.
But we had a long way to go.
I found it difficult to move past the fact that my sister had never gotten in touch— even after I visited to tell her mom’s death hadn’t been an accident.
And Evie? She couldn’t forgive me for not fighting harder to stay. For not running away from Austin and coming back to her. For staying away for so long.
“Sorry I’m late.” I slipped into a chair and Evie glanced up from her phone. She had a wicked smile on her face, and I raised one eyebrow. “What’s that look for?”
“This guy I’ve been seeing–” she frowned. “What’s wrong, Dani?”
At least she was calling me Dani again. That was progress.
“Nothing,” I attempted a smile, and my sister simply raised one eyebrow, glancing away. Her gaze landed on a group of werewolves who were taking shots at the bar. One of them tipped his head back and recognition swept through me. Matt. I’d met him when I interviewed his alpha a month ago. He was looking better than he had that day, but I had a feeling Nathaniel wouldn’t be pleased to learn that such a recently turned werewolf was drinking.
Meredith’s was a squat, brick building with a small outdoor area that was rarely used. Wobbly stools lined the beaten-up bar, the floors were scuffed and chipped, and the lights were dim. It was one of my favorite places in Durham.
