Page 17

Annabelle stared at the mess that was Aunt Marjory’s normally organized office.

The Christmas tree was askew, the faux presents scattered about, and ornaments knocked from their branches and crushed into tiny pieces beneath an intruder’s boot.

Drawers hung open and papers littered the floor and desk.

All but a few books lay strewn about, ripped from their bookshelves.

Ancient and valuable tomes lay open, their spines bent backward, and their pages curled over and creased.

Annabelle’s blood boiled. How could someone treat these treasures with such blatant disregard? She bent to retrieve a book, straightening out its pages and checking its spine for damage. She set it upright on the bookshelf.

“The Kings, do you think? Would they stoop so low as to do all this damage?” She picked up another book, its binding hanging on to the pages by mere threads.

It almost made her want to cry. She placed it gingerly on the desk.

It would need to be repaired. “Not your average burglar. Someone who knew how to break through your wards.”

Aunt Marjory surveyed the mess. “Do you think the shifters would do this? Gabriel?”

Annabelle raked her fingers through her tangled hair. She’d been with Gabriel all night, but… “Stefanie didn’t join us for dinner, and she wasn’t in their suite last night.”

“And Dutton?”

“He left the same time as Isobella.”

Aunt Marjory’s steely gaze locked on to hers. “I ask again, do you think the shifters could have done this?”

Annabelle picked up another book, smoothed out its pages and placed it carefully back on the shelf. She didn’t want to think they’d do this, but… “They were pretty keen to know about the spell.”

Annabelle froze in the act of picking up another book. The grimoire! Was it safe in her apartment? Was Isobella safe? She would’ve gone straight home last night. Annabelle dug into her bag for her phone and dialed Isobella’s number.

The phone rang and rang, and Annabelle’s anxiety rocketed. Finally, a sleepy voice answered. “Hello.”

“Isobella, are you okay? Did the apartment get burgled last night?”

“Wha— Just a minute.” Muffled sounds in the background, a yawn. “Okay, now I’m up… What are you talking about?”

“Aunt Marjory’s office got burgled last night. I thought when they didn’t find what they wanted…” Annabelle moved the phone from her mouth and raised her eyebrows at Aunt Marjory. “They didn’t get what they wanted, did they?”

“Of course not. I deleted the copy of the photo you sent me before you’d even left my house.”

Annabelle’s eyes widened. “You printed it out?”

“No. Keeping something that important in my office would be foolhardy. What with the way the Kings are at the moment.”

Annabelle gulped. She’d been stupid enough to store the grimoire in her dresser drawer. “But…what if I’d lost my copy?”

“Really, Annabelle. I’m disappointed you think I’m such a simpleton.

That I wouldn’t deduce the illuminated manuscript from the French monastery was nothing more than a story.

A spell like that had to have come from a grimoire.

One which I’m sure you still have in your possession.

” Aunt Marjory’s gaze bored into her. “I think you did the right thing stealing it from Rarity. We couldn’t possibly let something like that fall into the wrong hands, now, could we? Mmm?”

Hell, was she that transparent?

“Hello. Hello. Annabelle. Are you still there?”

Annabelle turned back to her phone. “Sorry, Isobella. Has the apartment been broken into?

The coffee machine clicked on, grinding away in the background. “Nope. It’s all fine here.”

The tension eased from Annabelle’s shoulders. “Okay, good. I’ll be home soon.”

“Well, I’ve got to go to work, so I might not be here when you get back.” The fridge door opened. Silence. “Oh, damn.” The fridge door closed, and the coffee machine abruptly shut off. “Can you pick up some milk on your way? We’re out.”

“Sure.” Milk was the least of her concerns. “See you tonight.”

She hit end and turned to Aunt Marjory. “I have to go. I’ll come back later and help you clean up.”

Aunt Marjory waved her off and began sorting through the papers on her desk. “I’ll get the staff to help me. You focus on the mission.”

At the door to the study, Annabelle paused. “There’s something about the Langeais wolves you should know. They’re different from other shifters somehow. Last night, Gabriel let slip they were true werewolves, whatever that means. He also said they couldn’t procreate with humans.”

Aunt Marjory cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s not simply because he wanted to have sex with you, and he didn’t have any protection on hand?”

Annabelle flushed. “It’s possible, but I don’t think so.”

Aunt Marjory gave her a steady stare. “Very well. I’ll reach out to the local shifter pack. Maybe they’ll know something.”

“Thanks.” She turned to go, then stopped. “And we need to talk about Dutton.”

Aunt Marjory dropped a sheaf of papers in a drawer. “I’m not going to pressure you to marry that moron, Annabelle. You know that, don’t you?”

A sudden weight lifted off Annabelle’s shoulders.

“But finding a suitable partner will alleviate some of these issues we’re facing.”

Annabelle crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not married. Why do I have to be?”

“You’re not me, Annabelle. Times have changed since I took over the coven.

Back then, the coven wasn’t so strong. We had very few experienced witches, and Cordelia, the only person capable of challenging me, had gone to ground.

She didn’t show up again for another five years.

By then, I’d consolidated my position as High Priestess. ”

Annabelle blew out a breath. Aunt Marjory was right.

Their coven was stronger now—mostly thanks to Aunt Marjory’s leadership—and Cordelia King was a formidable opponent.

The old witch had had forty or so years to build alliances.

The day would come when she’d make her move to take control of the coven.

Dutton marrying her was merely another way for Cordelia to get what she wanted.

When that ruse failed, her attack was bound to be less subtle.

Could Annabelle take on a witch like Cordelia?

Even with the backing of her family, and the families that were in their corner, there was a high probability Annabelle would lose.

Aunt Marjory sat down at her desk, looking every bit the High Priestess despite the disarray. “Gabriel would make a very powerful ally. Both to the coven and to you.”

Annabelle’s fingers clenched around her phone. Despite his pretty words, the chances Gabriel planned to mate her were zilch. He’d already left her once. Why would he stay now and support her in leading the coven? The answer was, she couldn’t trust he would.

“Mating Gabriel would be an improvement on marrying Dutton. Just think about it, Annabelle.”

Annabelle nodded. Anything to let this conversation drop.

She’d thought about it a lot in Paris. Being with Gabriel long term.

Marrying him. That was before she’d known he was a shifter.

Now… Some shifters had an aversion to mating humans.

Was Gabriel one of them? Probably. What shifter would want a mate that couldn’t give him pups?

* * * *

After a quick stop at her apartment for a shower and a change of clothes, Annabelle grabbed the grimoire and headed for Rarity.

To Annabelle, Rarity was a thing of beauty.

She loved its wood counter with its nicks and scratches, the creak of its polished timber floors, the ladders leaning against the shelves, and the faint musty smell of old books.

In an age of Kindles and eBooks, Rarity was…

well…a rarity. A bookshop, but not just any bookshop.

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the store, filled with books—large, small, hardcover and paperback.

Antiquarian books, out of print books, signed copies, leather-bound books and limited editions—all of them special in some way.

Glass cabinets displayed the more expensive and the more fragile ones.

The one nearest to her housed an incunabulum—an early printed book from the sixteenth century—seated on a frame, its pages open.

On the counter, another stand with a first edition Charles Dickens.

She tolerated the discrete Christmas decorations—a single, tastefully decorated tree—because in here, it was all about the books.

She’d just finished warding the grimoire disguised as a Christmas present under the Christmas tree as the shop doorbell tinkled and Gabriel walked in.

Freshly showered, the hint of his aftershave tickling her nostrils, he looked…

Annabelle strode back behind the counter, putting a much-needed barrier between them.

How could a man look so damn sexy in a simple white tee, black jeans and a leather jacket?

Finger-combed wet hair flopped over one dark eye as he took in the store.

What would Gabriel think of it? Would he shrug it off as just another store?

One filled with dusty old books that no one read anymore?

She rolled her lips. Why did she care what he thought?

She never let any of her other lovers’ negative opinions bother her.

Gabriel strolled into an aisle, his hands caressing the spines of the books. He picked one out and carefully opened it, flicking a few pages before placing it back on the shelf. He moved further along. Another book caught his eye.

The book in hand, he turned to look at her. “There’s some pretty special books in here, Annabelle.” He popped the book back on the shelf and retraced his steps.

“I think so,” she said, stepping back from the counter as he leaned against it.

“You left before I woke. No morning coffee, no goodbye kiss.” There was a hint of rebuke, despite his teasing tone.