I bury my face in my hands. “You think I should prepare myself to lose the house?”
Gently, she guides my wrists apart and meets my gaze. “No, Eloise. I’ve never thought that. Call the fucking advocate and command him to kill Tony. As long as you are still married, you are the beneficiary of his estate. Not only does the prenup go out the window, but his claim to this property also becomes moot.”
“But I’ll be a murderer.”
She blows out a deep breath. “I say this as your friend, not your attorney. You’ve got to defend yourself.”
“This isn’t self-defense. He’s threatening my property, not my life.”
Maeve groans in frustration. “There are more ways to kill a person than to stop their heart from beating. This house and everything in itisyour life. It’s the only life you’ve ever known outside of Tony. He’s threatening to take that from you. Threatening to keep you from your inheritance, your ancestral bonds, and the heritage that makes you the beautiful person you are. If that’s not threatening your life, I don’t know what is.”
I pour another glass of wine. She's right, about everything. “All right. If I can’t figure out another way, I’ll ask Damien to do it at the endof the week.”
Maeve chews her lip. “Thank you.”
I don't say anything more, afraid I'll talk myself out of it if I do.
“Still calling him Damien, huh?” She squints at me.
“You might as well know he ate me out and gave me the strongest orgasms I’ve ever experienced in my life.”
Her brows shoot into her thick bangs. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Goddess, Eloise. You come across all prim, proper, and gentle, and then you tell me you let a killer with fangs feast on your lady bits. I don’t know what to do with that information.”
“Be happy for me. I know that when I’m done with the candle, he’ll be gone, but I need this. I need to feel wanted again, and he’s done that for me.”
“Okay. I guess that makes sense. And he can’t hurt you as long as you have the candle.”
I take another drink to keep from saying anything about how I plan to let the candle burn down the rest of the way the minute this is all over. I love Maeve, but keeping Damian a prisoner for several lifetimes is wrong.
I reach for the bottle and drain the remains of the wine into Maeve’s empty glass. Her eyes are already glassy. A drunk Maeve is a forthcoming Maeve, and I still have questions. “So, uh, about my mother and Bad Witches Club.”
She frowns. “I was wondering when you’d get around to asking me about it again.”
“How did my mother know about the supernatural world?”
Hesitating, she leans back in her chair. She seems to be deliberating on something, maybe trying to find the right words to break bad news. I make the gimme motion withmy hand, but she just thrusts both arms toward me. “What do you see when you look at me?”
“My best friend, Maeve.”
She narrows her eyes in annoyance.
“Okay, um, a beautiful woman.” She circles her hand in the air, wanting more. “A beautiful goth woman.”
“Closer. What do you notice about my tattoos?”
I shrug. “They’re all skeletons. Skeleton mermaid, skeleton dragon, plain old skull.” Maeve is covered in bones and skulls. It’s her thing.
“Everyone in my family has tattoos like this, although maybe not so many as me. My father only has one, and it’s right over his heart. Like this one.” She moves the neck of her dress aside to reveal a tattoo of a skull and crossbones constructed of tiny symbols. “Can you guess why we all have this same tattoo?”
“Wait, Damien has one too! I saw it on his chest.”
“Sort of. Damien’s is different. It’s the same shape, but the symbols that make it up are different. His is a mark of his service to us, but this—” She taps the tattoo “—is the Gowdie sigil.”
Damien told me a few things about witches, sigils, and family spells, but I’m not sure he was supposed to share, and I don’t want to get him in trouble, so I play ignorant. “Does the tattoo have something to do with you being a witch?”
