“I understand that, but now that the initial shock has worn off, perhaps you should give her a chance to explain. After all, it is because of her you found Hester’s Grimoire without having to start digging up every tree in the woods.”
She looked up from the pages, her lips fixed in a tight line. “I know you’re only trying to help,” she answered, “but unless she knows the identity of the murderer or how to stop a demon from rising, I’m not really interested in anything she has to say.”
Choosing wisely to drop the subject for now, he continued to drink his coffee while he watched her return to the book. Although her lips said one thing, the pain and hurt that radiated from her told another. He’d just give her some space. She was an incredibly stubborn woman, but whether she liked it or not, she needed to speak with her friend. Margaret was too important to her for her to throw away years of friendship.
“Hey,” Olivia said suddenly, “I think I’ve found something.”
Theo sat forward in interest, but when he glanced at the page, he just saw strange spidery symbols fanning out like a web. “What is it?”
“Hold on,” she murmured, her gaze scanning the next several lines before she turned the page and read that too. “This is definitely the spell Hester used to seal Nathaniel in the devil’s trap, it mentions him by name. It looks as if she wrote the spell herself, and she used some pretty heavyweight binding magic, woven with blood magic.” She continued to read through a few more lines. “If I’m reading this right, this is incredibly powerful spellwork. The devil’s trap was built to last centuries, but it has lasted barely three.”
“So?” Theo stared at her.
“So, what happened?” she replied absently. “What caused the magic to start to break down?”
“The murders?” he suggested.
“I don’t think so, it doesn’t mention them at all. I still don’t understand their importance or how they are supposed to raise the demon. I suppose it could... Oh…” She suddenly stopped and read further. “Well, that explains... a lot.” Her face paled, and she sat back, dropping the book back into her lap. “The prison remains intact as long as a West remains on this land.”
Her mind was working furiously now, and the pieces were starting to fall into place.
“The night my mother died…” Her voice cracked as she spoke, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “The night my mom and grandmother died, Aunt Evie was attacked. It must have been part of the plan to raise the demon. The killer knew that as long as a West remained alive and living on this land, the trap couldn’t be opened. But with all of them gone, the trap was weakened, and I assume it could be opened by whatever raising spell they were planning on using, a spell that requires the murder victims. The killer took out Aunt Evie first. He must have assumed she was already dead, then he came to my house and killed my grandmother and my mom.”
“But your father killed your mom?” Theo replied.
“Yes, he did.” She breathed heavily, the pain a hot, hard ball burning at the back of her throat. “You know, I never understood why he kept me alive, why he killed them and took me.”
“Because he loved you?” Theo answered quietly. “Because, no matter what he had done in a fit of madness, you were his child, his blood.”
“No.” She shook her head painfully, stroking the pages softly. “Not because I was his blood, but because I was hers.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The last few lines of Hester’s spell,” she began to read aloud, “with blood this trap here make, and blood this trap shall break.”
“That’s why the ritual could not be completed last time.” Theo breathed heavily in realization.
“That’s right,” Olivia answered numbly. “Because he needs my blood to open the devil’s trap.”
24
Tammy looked up from her desk as the door to her office opened and smiled as Layton McCallister walked in with his trademark confident swagger. His dark hair was graying, as was the day-old stubble on his face, and his denim-blue eyes sparkled with mischief. His face broke into a grin, causing the creases in his cheeks, which had once been dimples, to deepen. Even at fifty, Layton was devastatingly good-looking. Tammy fought the ridiculous urge to smooth down her hair and sigh like a schoolgirl. She was a grown woman for God’s sake, and the mayor at that. The problem was the man not only had a face as handsome as sin but when he opened his mouth...
“Hello, Tammy.” His voice was a deep, sexy drawl, which always gave her a jolt in all the right places.
“Layton.” She stood and rounded the desk.
“You look good.” His gaze swept across her trim figure, encased in lilac, and down to the ridiculously high heels the woman insisted on wearing, but damn she had a fine pair of legs.
“What’s this?” She tugged at the scruff on his face.
He shrugged and stroked his chin in amusement. “I thought I’d try a beard.”
“It doesn’t suit you,” she replied. Actually, it did suit him; it was as downright sexy as the rest of him, God damn it.
“Well, maybe if you made an honest man of me, I could be persuaded to shave it off.”
The laugh bubbled out before she could stop it. “When are you going to stop asking?”
