Page 22 of Adepts and Alchemists
I sighed. “No, Anthony. We aren’t having this conversation now. Because you’re right. We need to get to Poppy’s grandmothers asap, or we’re likely going to be overrun.” Then I paused. “That’s where you come in.”
“How?” he asked, not bothering to hide the skepticism in his voice. “How the hell am I supposed to help?”
“Your mother is holding Aurea Grimsbane, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Why?”
“Get her on the phone. I need a mirror-walking teacher.Now.”
***
Angelo yanked me back down when I made another revolution across the room. We were technically squatting in some poor mundane’s barn, waiting for the call that would hopefully be our ticket out of this rural hell. I could hear sirens in the distance.
The gas station had gone up in a fireball not long after we’d fled. Several members of Scapegrace had gone to smooth things over with the mundane police and the rattled but still living human clerk who’d been caught in the crossfire. Betanya and Olga had left to procure a mirror that could be quickly and easily spelled. And that had to be done with a silvered mirror. You didn’t see the genuine article much these days. It left me in a glorified petting zoo while the coven ran interference for me.
My ass ended up hitting a hay bale hard, and bits of straw poked through my clothes. I settled with a grimace, shooting Angelo a dirty look over one shoulder.
“What was that for?”
“You’re not doing anyone any favors by wearing a hole in the floor. Try a little inner peace, Indigo.”
“Indie,” I said without thinking.
“What?”
Heat flooded into my cheeks. Damn that gypsy. She’d gone and turned me soft.
“Lydia called me ‘Indie’. I hated it at first.” I shook my head and laughed as I thought about it. “I mean… do I look like I carry a whip and raid tombs?”
Angelo canted his head to one side, lips pursed. “I could picture the whip, maybe. You’ve got that vibe.”
“Keep your dominatrix fantasies to yourself, incubus,” I sniffed.
Though truthfully, I could have kissed him for the change of topic. He could be disgustingly perceptive at times. I hated that he could read my moods like an open book. All the intimacy of a relationship with none of the trust.
“Are you sure?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows in an outrageous fashion. “I could whip up a titillating erotica on that premise.”
“You talk a big game, but I doubt there’s anything behind that talk.”
He breathed out a sigh. “There isn’t. I just—you’re wearing Lydia’s body, so my stupid libido keeps thinking… you’re her.”
I nodded. “I get it.”
It was then that RJ’s phone rang, startling us both. I nearly fumbled it and was saved from cracking it on the floor by Angelo’s quick reflexes. He deftly caught it, swiped to accept the call, and held it out to me. I took it with a nod of thanks.
“Hello?”
“Indigo Hallewell?” a familiar, brisk voice asked from the other end of the line.
I sucked in a fortifying breath. I’d know that southern accent and bad attitude anywhere. Anthony had inherited more than just his mother’s good looks.
“Yes, Sheriff Boline,” I answered, the words coming out on a sigh. “It’s me. Though Goddess knows I wish it weren’t.”
“You want to tell me just what in hell is going on?”
She was one of those people who cut to the chase. “Right. Well, the circumstances leading to this are difficult to explain... What’s more, I don’t really have the time to explain them. So, I’m going to ask you if you can trust me that I need the expertise of your prisoner at the moment? Any delay could cost lives. I’ll explain myself when we’re in a sanctum spelled house in Tacoma.”
A sharp exhale on the other end of the line made me smile. Anthony did that too, when he knew he’d lost an argument. It was almost cute. Though I’d never tell Lucretia Boline that the thought had ever crossed my mind. That was just begging for a nasty curse down the line. It wasn’t a secret that she didn’t like me. If I were her, I wouldn’t like me either. In fact, most days I didn’t even like myself.