Page 15

A persistent nudging of his foot stirred Gabriel from his sleep, and he rolled over.

“From that grin on your face and the reek of this room, I’m guessing someone got lucky last night. Very lucky.”

Gabriel opened one eye to Stef standing over him. He flung his arm out to draw Annabelle into his arms and encountered nothing but cold sheets. His mood soured. She’d left him? Snuck out while he slept?

“Time to get up, Napoleon. There is intrigue afoot and your Josephine is in the middle of it all. And put on some clothes. It’s too early in the morning to deal with any shifter naked, but one who I think of as a brother…

” Stef exited the room. “I’ll make coffee,” she called out as she pounded down the stairs.

Gabriel forced himself from the bed, away from the intoxicating scent of Annabelle and sex, quickly showered then dragged on a pair of jeans. Shrugging into a T-shirt, he descended the stairs. What had Stef meant about intrigue? Had she found something at Rarity last night?

In the kitchen, Stef handed him a cup of coffee and he took a few fortifying sips before setting it down. “So, give me the details. What did you find out last night?”

Stef leaned back against the counter, cradling her cup in her hands.

“Marjory’s study was a wealth of knowledge, but I found nothing relating to time travel, spells or otherwise.

Nor did I find a hint of an amulet, but”—she shrugged—“I left not long after you texted me and I hadn’t been in there long.

It took a bit getting past Marjory’s wards.

I had to call Alain for help. There could’ve been something there. ”

“Maybe. Annabelle said she sent her the photo she says she took of the spell. Marjory Jackson’s too smart to have printed it out.”

He retreated to the living area and collected his phone, checking for messages as he returned to the kitchen.

“Nothing from Pierre or Louis yet. Annabelle was a little reluctant about sharing information last night. Getting a look at her phone was out of the question. I didn’t even have her number to give to him. Here’s hoping she didn’t use a burner phone.”

“Alain hasn’t got back to me on the stuff I sent him either,” said Stef. “He’s in Mosswood, Georgia, for the election to the Council of Witches. He’s running in the election.”

Gabriel stared at Stef. “ Merde . Who sanctioned that? Nobody cleared it with me.”

Stef shrugged. “Our alpha, I suppose.”

Gabriel leaned against the kitchen counter, shaking his head. “Really? Your brother’s an idiot.”

Amusement lit up Stef’s eyes. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

Gabriel grunted. “Don’t. Please. It took me days to heal after my last training session with him. I’d hate to think of the state I’d be in if I piss him off. Let’s just hope your brother’s faith in Alain is not misplaced. And Alain behaves himself. Unlike last time.”

“Agreed.”

At last year’s Council Christmas function, Alain had tried to seduce a powerful witch.

A married, powerful witch. The subsequent fallout when the husband had found out had almost caused an international incident.

They’d been lucky the witch had accepted Alain’s groveling apology, claiming he’d had too much alcohol to notice the woman’s wedding band.

Impossible. Werewolf blood negated the effects of alcohol, and Alain’s shifter senses would’ve told him the woman had a mate.

Alain’s explanation he was cultivating an image, that the witches would soon forget he was a werewolf as well as a witch if he gave them something else to gossip about, had not gone over well with Maxime.

The last thing they needed was to be at war with the witches.

“So, did you find anything at Rarity?”

Stef set her cup down. “Yes, and no.”

“Mmm? That sounds a little ominous.”

“There is no record of a sale to any anonymous upstate financier, or any anonymous financier anywhere. I checked through the files twice. Computer and paper. They keep meticulous records—date of sale, price, the name of the book, where the store acquired said book, and the name and address of the purchaser. Not a single anonymous buyer of any kind.”

Gabriel had sensed Annabelle wasn’t telling him the whole truth, but… Annabelle had lied to him? A growl rumbled in his chest. “What game is she playing at?”

Stef held up her hand. “What I did find was a record of a break in a couple of months ago. The thief stole five books. Four of them, the police recovered. In the vestibule of the St Agnes Catholic church. First editions, all of them.”

“And the fifth book?”

“A book of spells, touted as being from the tenth or eleventh century. Rarity’s owner had it slated for assessment for two days after the theft.”

Gabriel stiffened. “A grimoire?”

“That’s what the owner’s copy of the police report said. Here’s where it gets interesting. Rarity has pretty good security measures—an alarm, security grills on the windows, cameras inside and out. Whoever broke in avoided all of them. I had help from Louis, and even then, I found it difficult.”

“A tenth century text… Why didn’t he have it locked in a safe?”

Stef shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t think it was genuine.

There were some questions around the acquisition.

The guy who brought it in said he’d found it in a pawnshop.

There was a notation beside that little piece of information.

Fake —with a question mark. I couldn’t find any other indication why the grimoire’s authenticity was in doubt, but when the store tried to contact the owner to notify him about the theft, the number turned out to be phony. ”

Gabriel knew of a lot of people who’d want to get their hands on a tenth or eleventh century grimoire, especially if it was genuine. Only one of them was an employee at Rarity. “You think Annabelle’s our thief?”

“It’s a distinct possibility.”

Gabriel downed his coffee. The hot, bitter liquid burned away some of the distaste from his mouth. “One must wonder what other spells were in that book, and who it originally belonged to. And why it ended up at Rarity. Either way, we need to get our hands on it, genuine or not.”

“We do. Someone obviously thought it was authentic, or they wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of stealing it.” Stef reached for his cup and rinsed both mugs in the sink before setting them to drain. “You should also know, someone followed me.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Someone from the coven, do you think? Or the King family. Word has it they’re making a play for control of the coven.”

Stef sneered. “If Dutton is the best the Kings have got, Lord help the coven if they get what they’re after.”

“From what I can gather, Annabelle’s the one currently in line to take over from Marjory, and the Kings don’t believe she’s strong enough to do it on her own.

I can’t say they’re wrong. As soon as she takes over, the Kings are going to challenge her.

From what I’ve read, Annabelle is no match for their matriarch, Cordelia King. ”

“There’s an easy fix for that. Claim her. Take her as your mate, turn her and rule the coven with her. No witch would be stupid enough to take on a shifter witch, not with her mate standing behind her.”

Gabriel looked away.

“You haven’t told her yet, have you? That we’re different.”

Gabriel avoided Stef’s eyes.

Stef shook her head at him. “You haven’t told her she’s your mate, either.”

“Not in so many words.” He threw up his arms. “We were kind of busy last night. I planned to have that conversation with her this morning.”

Stef sighed and rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “Sometimes I wonder how you males ever manage to get mated at all. Too busy thinking with the wrong head, that’s your problem.”

“Hey.” He pointed a finger at Stef. “You wait until you meet your mate. Then we’ll see how well you resist the call to fuck and fuck often. Trust me, talking is the last thing on your mind when you have them in your arms.”

Stef chuckled. “Believe me, I’m not in any hurry to mate. I have enough overbearing, overprotective wolf shifters hounding my every step. Between you and Maxime, I can barely breathe as it is.”

“Who says your mate will be a shifter? Maybe he’ll be human, like Annabelle. Then you’ll get to turn him and train him. You’ll get to mold him exactly the way you like him.”

Gabriel chuckled at the disgust on Stef’s face. No, a human male wouldn’t be strong enough to handle Stef. He pitied the poor shifter male who turned out to be her mate. He’d definitely have a challenge on his hands.

“Have you updated your brother yet?”

Stef grimaced. “I’m bound to get a lecture about keeping safe. I’m enjoying my bit of freedom right now, and I’m not keen to disturb my peace.”

It was hard enough being a she-wolf in an over-protective pack. Being the alpha’s little sister made it that much harder. Finding Nathalie, at Christmas three years ago, the youngest d’Louncrais long thought dead, had made things a little easier on Stef, but not much. “I’ll call him.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

“We should split up,” he said, following Stef into the living area and snagging his coat from the back of the sofa.

“I’ll take Annabelle, you take Isobella.

We’re going to need her prepped and ready to go when I take Annabelle out of the equation.

The last thing we want is for Dutton to step forward and insist on going on the mission.

If Isobella is already predisposed and prepared, we can send her back before he has a chance to argue.

” He slipped on his coat and adjusted the collar.

“Do you think it was Dutton or one of the Kings following you?”

Stef tilted her head to the side, considering his question. “Could have been. They weren’t exactly subtle. Or maybe someone wanting us to know they were there.”

“Possible. You never can tell with the DGSE.”

Stef quirked an eyebrow. “You think the DGSE are involved?”