I get up, not ready to give up yet, and look around the room. Thinking back, I replay the attack over in my mind. There’s one more place I can look, and relief washes over me when I see the book wedged between the nightstand and the mattress. I grab it and hug it against my chest. Jacques’s notes were left downstairs, and though they’re not complete, they are an exact copy of the book in English.
Racing down the back staircase, I find his notebook untouched on the table, right where we left it, along with the list of ingredients I need in order to do the concealment spell. Maybe I should do one for the book too. Keep it away from anyone who wants to get their hands on it.
I put the grimoire and the notebook in my purse in the closet, but it doesn’t feel safe. This house is so damn big. Someone could be in here, hiding and waiting, and I’d never know.
I need to get a dog. Or two. Maybe even three.
Rubbing my forehead, I go back into the kitchen and plug in my coffee pot. I’ve lived my life in somewhat of a routine for years, and it’s helped me stay on top of things. Today didn’t start out at all like I expected, but I need to get back into my rhythm so I can function. I can’t afford to waste any time.
Twisting my hair into a messy bun on the top of my head, I watch the coffee brewing, and get a cup poured by the time Jared pulls into the driveway. I watch through the broken window as he parks and gets out, going around to the passenger seat to get a tool bag. He takes his sweet-ass time coming up to the porch, and stops to look at the gargoyles along the way.
I open the front door as he reaches for the doorbell, startling him. Should I feel bad I found a bit of satisfaction in that?
“Hey,” I say, and step aside, letting him in. “Thank you for coming to board up the window.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” he scoffs, and I’m reminded all over again why I can’t stand this asshole. “My dad still thinks you’ll change your mind and arrest me.”
“I still could.”
“That was days ago. You missed your chance,” he taunts, thinking he has the upper hand here. “And now you owe me. I want to come over at night.”
“You really know nothing about the law, do you?” I shut the door behind him, taking a glance at Thomas and Gilbert. I want to go back to last night, before the ghoul attacked, and be back in bed with Gil, talking about spells and magic with hope and excitement.
I should have known that would have been short-lived.
“I’ve arrested people for crimes they committed years ago,” I go on, taking another sip of coffee. “You’re an arrogant asshole, you know that, right?”
He turns, eyes wide. I don’t think anyone has ever called him out like this before. “I’m going to tell my dad what you said!”
I roll my eyes. “All right, Draco. Go tell Father. See how much I care.” Though I’m fairly certain his dad will agree with me.
Jared sets the bag of tools on the coffee table, surveying the damage.
“What happened?”
“I was cleaning the window and I slipped,” I smoothly lie. “The ladder fell right into the window.”
Jared nods and sets the tool bag down, getting out a tape measure. I finish my coffee and pick up the broom again, sweeping little bits of glass from under the couch. Jared goes back outside and brings pieces of plywood onto the porch. I sweep up more glass and move the couch back, taking the cushions off to shake them out.
“You seem to have done this before,” I say to Jared as he lines up the first piece of plywood.
“My parents make me do Habitat for Humanity every year.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I look out the window at him.
“I guess it’s not, but I’d like to take a normal vacation every now and then. We haven’t been anywhere fun in years.”
“You have no idea how good you have it, do you?”
“Please,” he spits. “Are you going to tell me about your rough childhood now?”
“Hardly.” I pick up a few big pieces of glass from under the couch cushions and toss them in the bag. Scooting the couch to the opposite side of the room, I sweep the floor again, making sure I didn’t miss any pieces of glass, and then go get the vacuum.
I go over the couch and each cushion three times, not wanting to sit down and get a piece of glass in my ass. This couch came with the house and I never took the cushions off to vacuum before. The thought never crossed my mind, and seeing all the crumbs makes me a little scared to look at the other couch in the larger living room.
I run the vacuum over the rug a few times, finally feeling satisfied that the glass is cleaned up. I take the box into the kitchen, setting it by the back door so I can take it out and dump it in the recycling later.
Feeling a little paranoid, I check the closet and make sure my purse is still there. The book and the notebook are stashed safely inside. I close the closet and turn around, the feelings of being watched and attacked still lingering.
