I blew out a breath, forcing myself to let it go. “You know I will.”
She didn’t want to talk about it, so I’d give her some time. I parked outside the stately home of the woman who had been my mother’s friend. We both eyed the ward.
Since Harriette had been high fae, there was an investigation into her murder. Mariam had refused to give me any information, and I had a pretty good feeling that was because the seelie didn’thaveany information. But someone powerful had created that ward, and they’d know the moment we broke it.
“We need to haul-ass,” Evie said.
“Yup. You ready?”
She nodded, and we got out of the car, both of us stepping up to the ward, which shone silver. I sliced into my forearm with a throwing knife, and we both held up our hands at the same time, slapping them into the ward.
Even with both of us aiming our power at the ward, it fought back, and I instinctively knew it was alerting its owner that we were here. Three seconds later, the ward fell, and we sprinted for the front door.
The seelie had left it unlocked, obviously relying on the ward to keep out anyone who might be overly interested. I shook my head and pushed the door open, and we both carefully stepped inside, neither of us speaking as we crossed the entrance where we’d found her body.
We took the stairs at a run.
The attic was warded as well, but it was one of Harriette’s wards, and her magic was no match for Evie’s.
Sunlight poured in from skylights on either side of the triangular ceiling, highlighting the dust motes floating through the air. Evie let out a cough behind me, and I nodded.
“No one has been up here for a while. You go through those boxes. I’m going to check this chest.”
I reached into my utility belt and pulled out my lock picks, getting to work on the padlock which held the chest tightly closed. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck as the seconds ticked by, each of them bringing the seelie who’d warded the house closer.
I popped the lock open and pulled it free, letting out a grunt as I hauled the lid of the chest up. Old blankets, towels, moth-eaten sheets, a gown made of lace so delicate, I held my breath as I gently handled it… but no grimoire.
There was another smaller chest nearby, but all it held was old photo albums and an antique jewelry box which had been carefully wrapped in bubble wrap.
I glanced at Evie. She’d pulled every book out of the boxes and stacked them in piles around her. Nothing.
We both got to our feet, and I surveyed the attic. Panic warred with disappointment in my gut.
“You’ve seen the books before, right?” Evie asked.
“Yeah.” I stepped toward the window and peered down. The street was empty, but I couldfeelthe seelie who created the ward, and I knew without a doubt that they were on their way.
“Close your eyes.”
I frowned over my shoulder at Evie and she gave me a look. “I’m serious.”
I sighed, but did as she asked. “Good. Now picture the books you saw. You must’ve felt their power—or at least a hint of it. Drop your shields and see if you can feel something similar.”
I opened one eye. “Where did you learn—never mind.” I closed my eyes again and rolled my shoulders.
I’d seen the grimoires a few times. One was when the McCormick descendants had attempted to kill Samael and take his power. I focused on it, but my body went straight into fight-or-flight mode at the memory. My hands fisted and I blew out a breath.
Gloria had used a spell from one of the black books when she interrogated Cassie. But the thought of Gloria made my gut twist with rage, so that was out.
I focused on the last black book I’d seen—the one Bel had handed me. I channeled the feel of it, the power which had bitten at me.
Frustration made my neck muscles tighten. “I’m not getting anything.”
“Keep trying. You’ve got this.”
I took a deep breath. I’d seen Samael reading a grimoire once. I’d woken in his bed and found him sitting next to me, the black book in his lap. He’d used his power to send me to sleep that day, and I’d been furious. Not furious in the same way I was when I thought of Gloria, though. No, this had been a fury tinged with frustration, because I wanted the demon so badly, and he’d once again overridden my choices.
And after I’d bitterly told him exactly how much it made meloathehim, he’d shown me the memory of his family’s slaughter. He’d bared a piece of his soul, and I’d understood him a little more. All he’d ever wanted was to keep me safe.
