Deadly Vows (Lizzie Grace 6)

“I’m not exactly thrilled either.” I reached for my backpack and then walked across to the storage boxes hidden behind the bookcase. “But it was always destined to end with just the two of us, Monty. I might have spent close to thirteen years hoping it would be otherwise, but fate isn’t often circumvented.”

“Unfortunately, in this case.” His voice held a frustrated edge. “The first thing he’ll do is take your phone and that pack from you.”

“Undoubtedly, but he also might think it strange if I don’t come armed.” I opened the nearest storage units, retrieved the opal pendant, and slung it over my neck. Then I picked up the small box of holy water and held it out. “Use these on whatever wounds Belle has.”

He accepted them with a nod. “Have you got any regular weaponry? Like a gun?”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t know how to use it even if I did.”

“Maybe you should call Aiden—”

“He’s got a bombed building and multiple casualties up at Émigré to deal with. He can’t help us.”

“He could give us a damn gun.”

“And what good would that do—can you use one?”

“Anyone can pull a damn trigger, Liz.”

“You’re not going to be close enough to do so.”

“I know, but that doesn’t assuage my need to shoot the bastard multiple times and then dance all over his bleeding body.”

Despite the fear that sat like a weight deep in my stomach, a smile twitched my lips. “Who knew you had such a bloodthirsty streak.”

“Anyone who’s ever gone after someone I cared about certainly knows.” He glanced at his watch. “We’d better get going.”

I slung the pack over my shoulder and walked out. Maelle hadn’t moved. If not for the shifting, churning curtain of her aura, she could have been a statue.

Perhaps she was conserving her energy. Or perhaps she was pushing what energy she could spare across to Roger. I doubted she’d be able to make another thrall very easily, no matter how strong a dark witch she was.

I walked behind the counter to grab my keys. “We’ll have to take both vehicles—you’ll need to get Belle out of there the minute Maelle rescues her.”

“And leave you? No way—”

I swung around and said fiercely, “I can survive whatever he throws at me, but I won’t survive Belle dying. Do as I say, Monty.”

He threw up his hands. “Okay, okay.”

“Good. Maelle, you coming?”

She didn’t answer. She just turned and flowed toward me; death shone in her eyes, and her anticipation—her hunger—was so fierce it burned across my skin and left me breathless.

But as long as she played her part—as long as she saved Belle—then I could live with the outcome. Whatever it was.

It took us twenty-five minutes to reach the acreage outside Argyle. As I turned down the long dirt road that led up to the property situated on the top of the hill, my phone rang. It was Monty, not Clayton.

“I’ll stop here on the main road,” he said. “It should be close enough to pick up the pendant’s signal, but far enough away that he won’t sense me.”

“Okay. Keep safe.”

His laugh was short and sharp. “I’m not the one walking into a madman’s trap.”

“Maybe not, but given he is mad, don’t drop your guard. Especially when Maelle gets Belle out.”

“I know, I know. Just… be careful, and come back alive.”

“That’s the plan,” I said, and hung up.