“The covens witnessedaburning,” he said quietly.
I exchanged a startled glance with Samuel.
“You mean, the book that was burned was notDark Confluences?” Samuel said sharply.
Arthur met our gazes steadily. “Let’s just say that kind of knowledge has a way of surviving.”
My mouth went dry. “So, somebody made a copy.”
Arthur’s mouth twisted. “I always suspected some portion of Isolda’s work either escaped the flames or was transcribed before the covens got their hands on the book.”
My wolf growled low in my chest. A fraught silence settled over the library.
Frustration underscored Samuel’s voice when he spoke. “We still don’t know how any of this is connected to the Lincoln sisters’ disappearance.”
I drummed my fingers on my knees, my mind racing.
“Is there any way to track this kind of magic?” I asked Arthur. “Some residue or signature we could follow?”
Arthur considered this for a moment, his brow furrowing. “Possibly. As with many powerful rituals, the Black Chalice Rite likely requires access to a convergence point, like the one beneath this mansion.”
I stared. “You mean, a place where ley lines intersect?”
Arthur bobbed his head. “Yes. And the ritual will probably leave a trace in the magical current.” He paused. “I could draw you a map. Of the ley lines, I mean. I spent ten years insidethem after all.”
I blinked, surprised by the offer. “That would really help.”
A rueful smile curved Arthur’s mouth. “I’m more than happy to assist my savior.”
Bo peeked his head out from behind my chair.
“Just so you know,” he began confiding to Arthur in an innocent voice, “it took Abby a good few days to recover from the shock of seeing you butt na?—”
“Thank you, Arthur,” Samuel interrupted hastily. He rose and offered Arthur his hand.
Arthur shook it firmly. “I’ll be in touch when I have the map ready.”
15
THE DEN
Victoria’s Mercedespurred through a pair of familiar wrought-iron gates at precisely three o’clock the following afternoon.
I stared glumly at the mansion looming ahead and tried to remember a time in my pre-werewolf life when I’d willingly walked into a building full of people I dreaded meeting more than my dentist.
This morning’s breakfast ambush had been textbook Victoria. She’d waited until I was mid-bite into Nora’s exceptional French toast, watched me close my eyes in bliss, and struck.
“I hope you haven’t forgotten that the Council of Elders meeting is this afternoon,” she’d said coolly, snapping her paper open. “We’re expected at three.”
I’d nearly choked on my toast and had gulped down the coffee Bernard had hastily poured me.
In fairness, she’d been dropping hints for days. There had been casual mentions of “upcoming obligations” and “certain responsibilities that come with being aHawthorne luna” that had escalated to veiled threats. I’d been dodging them with the kind of tactical evasion that would have impressed a seasoned military operative.
Victoria had simply outflanked me by weaponizing carbs.
Samuel conveniently had pack business to attend to, which meant I couldn’t use him as a shield. The sympathetic look he’d given me on his way out had not been comforting. Neither had the ones my work associates had bestowed upon me when Victoria had come to pick me up at the office.
“Stop fidgeting,” my future mother-in-law said without taking her eyes off the driveway. “You know they can smell nerves.”
