“Mum, no.” Ryan moved in front of her as if his body shielded her from a death ray.
“I should go,” Andrew offered. “I drove Corbin away after our other son’s death. If it wasn’t for me he’d?—”
“Oh,please.All this self-flagellation is sickening. The sacrifice does not have to be complicit. Do you have any enemies?” Isadora asked lazily, staring at her fingernails. “Those two police officers that were poking around earlier would make an excellent offering.”
“They don’t need an enemy, Isadora. They have us.”
I whirled around. In the doorway stood Aline, her arm looped in Robert’s. “Between the two of us, we have all the fae magic you’ll need. And we have the sacrifice, too. Robert and I will go to the underworld in exchange.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FOUR: BLAKE
“It’s no use trying to change our minds,” Aline squeezed Smithers’ hand. “We’ve decided. We’re both two souls out of time. On this plane of existence, there is nothing for us, but in the underworld there is hope. We will not truly die. Our souls will live on. It is our second chance. Let us go to our next stage of life joyfully, knowing we saved our daughter.”
“I should go,” I said, with a look at Arthur. “I’m not even supposed to be here.”
Flynn kicked Arthur in the leg. He winced and stepped forward. His huge, meaty hand fell on my shoulder, and a pair of ice-blue eyes blazed into mine. “Blake, you’re a wanker. But this coven won’t be the same without you.”
Does he mean that?
I studied those eyes for any sign of a cruel ploy, but I found nothing but regret and sadness.He means it.
A lump rose in my throat. Weirdly, hearing those words from Arthur felt more genuine than anything Maeve had ever said to me about belonging here. I wrapped my arms around his enormous frame. He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed into the hug. Flynn winked at me over Arthur’s shoulder, and I reached down and pinched his bottom.
“Gor now, get off,” Arthur shoved me away. “We’re not Corbin and Rowan, got it?”
“We could be,” I winked at him. Flynn snorted with laughter.
“So this ritual, right? What do we need to make it happen?” Arthur shoved his hands in his pockets, pointedly ignoring my comment. Something like pride brimmed in my chest. I was finally, actually part of this world. Now we just had to get Maeve and Corbin back, and everything would be perfect.
“We’ll need those two portraits Flynn made. And some candles and standard ritual supplies.” Clara consulted the page of the book. “And, of course, we shall need Corbin’s body.”
No, please—” Bree choked out. Andrew took her by the arm and led her from the room. I heard them murmuring in the hall.
“The body is with the coroner,” Flynn said. “Wallace said it would probably be available today, but it’s barely even six in the morning. They won’t?—”
Arthur strode toward the door. “I’ll make them give it to us. Blake, you’re coming with me.”
“Why me?”
“Because I already pulled his body off that bloody stake and carried it out of the meadow. I’m not touching it again.” Arthur jangled his car keys. “Plus, you’ve got that whole ethereal beauty thing going for you that DS Judge can’t resist. Let’s go.”
A few minutes later, Arthur parked the car in front of the police station and shoved me toward the entrance.
Of all the times to have made peace with Arthur. Three days ago he’d never have trusted me with Corbin’s body.
I pushed the door open and approached the front desk. “I’m Blake Beckett. I’ve come to pick up the remains of my friend, Corbin Harris. I know it’s early, but I was hoping?—”
The officer behind the desk raised an eyebrow. “Corbin Harris? You’re in luck. I think the coroner finished with that case late yesterday. DS Judge will want to have a word with you before she signs the body over. Come through.”
I was led into a small room containing a round table, four plastic chairs and a strange machine with several buttons and levers. The fae in me rebelled against sitting on the plastic surface. At least Briarwood had been filled with sumptuous natural fabrics and wooden furniture – Daigh was right – the humans who invented plastic deserved to die a horrible, grisly death.
DS Judge appeared at the doorway. “Blake Beckett? Did you look into a crystal ball and see we’d finished with Corbin’s body? I was going to call, you know.”
I remembered that Flynn had told her we were witches. I flicked my hair over my shoulder and settled her with my dark gaze. “The tarot cards told me.”
“Coffee?” DS Judge held two plastic cups under the machine and pressed a button. A sludgy brown liquid dribbled into the cups. She filled both to the brim and passed one to me. I took one sniff, and pushed it across the table, as far from me as I could get. Why would humans bother inventing a machine that made dirt water? Now, a curry dispensing machine, that I could get behind.
