Deadly Vows (Lizzie Grace 6)

There was no regret in Belle’s mental tone, but why would there be? She’d unleashed that spell to save me from rape, and if Clayton had spent the years since in manhood hell, then I for one thought it well deserved.

Though I had no doubt we were both likely to pay a high price for it.

We’ll be there in half an hour, she continued. Have the coffee ready.

Will do.

I sent Aiden a quick text to explain what had happened and asked him to be careful. His response was immediate and made me smile: Do you need me there?

No, I sent back, Monty and Belle are coming home to help shore up our defenses. We’ll be fine.

And if I said that often enough, I might even start to believe it.

I headed upstairs for a shower, though the heat didn’t really do much to chase the chill from my flesh. Once dressed, I trundled back downstairs to put on the kettle and consoled myself with a thick slab of chocolate cake.

Monty and Belle arrived just over ten minutes later.

“Fuck,” I said, as they walked through the door. “You must have broken the land speed record to get here so fast.”

Monty’s grin flashed. “I figured that if the rangers did pull me over, I’d just have to say you were under attack, and I’d probably get a lights-and-sirens escort here.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” I replied, amused. “Especially if it was Tala who pulled you over.”

Tala was Aiden’s second-in-charge, and though she’d come to accept that my abilities were real, and even somewhat useful, she tended to play by the rules even more than Aiden.

“Even Tala would know better than to delay us when your safety is on the line,” Monty said.

“Except in this case, it wasn’t. And you were well aware of that.”

“Yeah, but she wouldn’t have been.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Clayton really did a number on your spells, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” I finished making our coffees, sliced up more chocolate cake—it was definitely a two-pieces-of-cake night for me—and then carried it all over. “But at least he didn’t get in.”

“Only thanks to the threads of wild magic,” Belle commented. “Which means we’ll need to use it to shore up—”

“No,” I cut in. “Under no circumstances.”

“Why?” Monty accepted his coffee with a nod and helped himself to a piece of cake. “He now knows you can use the wild magic, so why bother pretending otherwise?”

“If my inner wild magic remains concealed, then we might get away with saying the wellspring was still unrestrained when we created those spells and that its presence was unintentional.”

Monty snorted. “And how many of the witches who’ve stepped into this café have actually believed that statement?”

“Not many, but remember, Clayton’s memories are of an underpowered sixteen-year-old. He won’t be looking for anything more.”

“And if you can keep shielding as well as you are at the moment,” Belle said, “it gives us a slight advantage over the bastard.”

“Maybe.” I scooped up some chocolate cake and munched on it contemplatively. “Monty, did your dad have any success digging out the marriage certificate?”

He shook his head. “The priest who performed the ceremony died a few years later—”

“Isn’t that convenient,” Belle said, voice dry.

“He was older than Methuselah when he performed the ceremony,” I said. “I’m surprised he lasted a few years—I’d have thought a few days would have been stretching it.”

“Why is his death a problem?” Belle asked. “The marriage would have been registered with the Witch Registry of Births, Deaths, and Marriages—”

“And, by law, access to such a record is restricted for sixty years,” Monty said. “Liz can certainly request a copy of it, as can an attorney on her behalf, but my father can’t.”