“It generally can’t be controlled, but we’ve always been able to contain and protect it.”
He accepted the coffee Belle handed him with a nod of thanks. “Which means it’s no safer here for you—and yet I take it you’re not intending to hide?”
“No, because I also believe that he’ll only come after me as a last resort—and if he can’t get Belle, he’ll go after you. Which is why I’d like you to stay at the compound for the next few nights.”
“I’d rather stay here and protect you.”
“That’s not really wise—”
“Why not? Between my gun and your magic, I’m thinking we stand a very good chance of taking the bastard down.”
“You’re overestimating my magic.”
“You’re underestimating it.”
“Actually,” Belle said, “he does have a point. Even Clayton can’t out-spell the speed of a bullet.”
It’d also make me feel a whole lot better if you weren’t alone here.
“Fine.” I gulped down some whiskey. “What time is the meeting?”
“Ten minutes—why?”
“Give me your charm—I want to weave through another spell that’ll warn you of an incoming magical attack.”
He immediately handed it to me. The multiple threads of protection magic I’d already woven through the basic copper and leather necklace pulsed, sending a ripple of rainbow energy spiraling through the café. It might not stand up against a full-on assault from a witch as powerful as Clayton for very long, but it would stand.
I quickly threaded the warning spell through the outer protection layers, activated it, and then handed it back. “It’ll begin to pulse if there’s an imminent threat—the stronger the pulse, the closer the threat.”
“Good.” He leaned forward and kissed me. “Be back soon.”
“All our measures so far have centered on prevention,” Belle said once he’d left. “What we haven’t discussed is how we’re actually going to deal with the bastard once he does attack.”
“That’s because what we do depends entirely on what he does.” I picked up my glass and finished the whiskey. “Given he’s undoubtedly behind the shooting of my father, it’s very possible he’s also decided to get his revenge on us the old-fashioned way—especially given the shooter wasn’t caught.”
“You don’t believe that. You can’t. Not after seeing his demeanor in Wodonga.”
“Maybe, but I didn’t actually think he’d resort to shooting my father, either.”
Belle was silent for a moment, then her gaze met mine and she said softly, “If it came down to it, could you kill him?”
“Without a moment’s hesitation.” Especially if it came down to a choice of his life or that of anyone I cared about.
“Taking his life won’t be the same as taking the life of a demon. It’ll have deeper ramifications.”
I knew she meant personal ramifications more than rule of law. “Then I’ll go to a psych and deal with them. I will not allow him to take any more of my life or my time, Belle. He’s already taken far too much from both of us.”
“Amen to that.” She clicked her glass against my empty one. “Hopefully, it won’t come down to that choice.”
“Hopefully.”
But even as I said it, I knew the chances were low. There was only one way this was going to end, and that was with one of us dead.
Aiden had left for work the next morning by the time Belle returned, which was probably just as well, as I wasn’t in the mood to answer any questions about where she’d been. Not when my dreams had been filled with warnings of looming death and destruction. Of fire and smoke and distant, insubstantial glimpses of charcoaled wall struts that were impossible to identify and yet left me terrified.
“Well,” I said, as she walked in. “How was it?”
She shuddered. “The Addams Family has nothing on her inner sanctum, let me tell you.”