“I’m sorry, Miss Rowan, but we haven’t heard from any of your kin for, well, a long time now and Hannah, well, she comes around now and again, but I’ve not seen her in months.”
Damn, how could she have let the coven get so fractured? Rowan flushed a deep red as she arranged the flowers in the vase. She knew why. Because I was too selfish.
“Does Hannah still work at that bar in Ipswich?”
“She owns it now.” At Cedric’s nod, a thought crossed Rowan’s mind. She turned quickly, and her nose smashed into the hard wall of Azaiel’s chest. “Jesus. Didn’t anyone ever teach you the rules about personal space?”
His scent filled her nostrils. It was earthy, full of spice and something wholly male. The energy that slithered over his skin was potent, and it only added to his attraction—not that she was interested, of course.
She didn’t give Azaiel a chance to reply but pushed past him. He wasn’t her type. That’s if she was looking for a type. She glared at the answering machine and shot a look of resentment at Azaiel. Which she wasn’t.
The light was flashing, and the number indicated there were several messages. Rowan exhaled, squared her shoulders and pressed PLAY. Azaiel moved up beside her as did Cedric, and the three of them listened as three customers called to confirm their canceled reservations.
She bit her lip and frowned. Weird.
The next message was from Cedric, checking in to say he’d made it to his granddaughter’s and would call again in a few days. Rowan grabbed Cedric’s hand and squeezed as they listened together.
Two messages were left, and she knew the last one was from Mason—damn, she needed to call him back before he started to worry.
“Cara?” She gripped Cedric’s hand tighter as the soft voice sounded. It was her cousin Hannah. “Cara, pick up?” Static played over dead air, and her cousin exhaled loudly into the phone, a quiver of fear lacing her words as she spoke. “Cara. I . . . I’m just worried and a little freaked-out. I felt something tonight and I’m not sure what it means exactly but when you get this message, please call me.” Another pause. “Okay, uh, make sure you call as soon as you get this.”
The line went dead, and Rowan erased Mason’s message.
Silence weighed between them all, and after a few moments Rowan let go of Cedric’s hand and stared out the window, not really seeing anything, but she let her mind work its way through some things, and when she turned around a plan was forming.
She glanced up at Azaiel, more than a little startled to find his light eyes focused on her. He was much too quiet. Much too intense. The man made her nervous in all sorts of ways. If she was going to get through the next few weeks with him around, she was going to have to learn how to deal with that.
Starting now.
“Cedric.” She turned to her old friend. “I can’t tell you to leave or to stay. You have to make that decision on your own.” He would have spoken, but she shushed him gently. “I’d rather you leave because danger is heading our way, and I don’t know if I can live through someone else I love getting hurt.” She smiled sadly. “But I know you have the heart of a warrior and that you loved Cara very much.”
“This has to be made right,” the elderly man said quietly. “You need to be protected. He won’t stop.”
“I know.” Rowan smiled bitterly. “Seems as if we’ve come full circle.” She nodded. “All right. Good.”
“What do you have planned?”
Rowan turned to Azaiel. “I need to gather the coven.”
“What of your mother?” Cedric looked worried.
“Once we’re organized, we’ll get her,” she answered carefully, not liking the way Cedric’s eyes narrowed. “Mom may be damaged, but her power is still strong. It’s locked away somewhere inside her, and I need it.” She was aware of Azaiel’s gaze and turned back to the window. A squirrel rooted through a pile of leaves, its tail the only part of its small body that was visible. “We need as much James mojo as we can get our hands on if we’re going to end this.”
Rowan pushed everything from her mind but the task at hand and went into battle mode. It slipped over her skin with an ease born of the past, and for the first time in a very long while she just let it be. She accepted what she was with no guilt and no fear.
She was a powerful entity, a warrior made of flesh and bone—but above all else one hell of a witch. Her fingers clenched tightly, and she closed her eyes.
She would face Mallick but not until she was ready—not until Samhain—she needed her circle to be at its strongest, and before that could happen, she had much to do.
Rowan James was no one’s prize, let alone that of a demon lord from the Hell realm.
She would end this. Or die trying.
Chapter 6
Azaiel followed Rowan out into the crisp fall morning. It was later, closer to noon, but the urgency of their situation wasn’t lost on either one of them. She cleared the porch, taking the stairs two at a time, and headed toward the parking lot. Her denim-clad legs covered the distance in no time until she reached the blacktop, where his bike and her car were parked.
They’d breakfasted—Cedric had insisted no foray into the supernatural could be successful on an empty stomach—and the elderly gentleman had created a tasty meal of bacon, eggs, toast, and sausages. Azaiel observed the easy warmth between Cedric and Rowan in silence as he made quick work of his plate. Neither one of them engaged Azaiel in conversation, but he was more than content to listen.