Page 40 of Fae Devoted
“No, we don’t.” Red seeped into the patriarch’s once coal-black pupils, the smells of mud and wet peat a telling sign of his anger and frustration.
The touch of vampire magic on Johnnie’s flesh chilled her to the bone, and she almost took an instinctive step away before stopping herself. “You said your people are investigating, so what did you tell Jeremiah?”
“About a week ago, Mater Russo from my Traverse City branch reported that a witchling fitting the description of the missing girl and an Untouched woman were spotted at a local park under her jurisdiction.”
“What makes the DuPont House mater think it was Charlotte? It’s not as if it’s unusual for humans to marry witches and produce Anwyll children.” Johnnie tapped her purse against her thigh, forgetting for a moment about Jacob and the speakerphone. “I don’t understand why a mother and daughter enjoying the fall weather is significant enough for her to inform the region’s patriarch.”
“Because,” Olivia said. “The witchling set the playground on fire.”
Chapter 12
“Achild?” Tuckerpulled into the deserted strip mall a couple of blocks from their rented room and less than a mile from DuPont’s Detroit casino, then turned off the engine and waited for the interior to go as dark as the starless sky. However confident in the security his truck’s insulation provided against supernatural eavesdropping, he still preferred to discuss the sensitive topic somewhere more isolated than their motel parking lot. “And DuPont didn’t say why Jeremiah was interested in a kidnapped witchling?”
Although the odds were minuscule that a guest attending a gathering thrown by the powerful patriarch would come to harm, the moment Jo’s phone went dead from the consort’s privacy ward, Tucker found himself drawing on every scrap of willpower to remain inside the truck. The next twenty minutes of deafening silence were the longest of his life. The fresh claw marks on the dashboard were a testament to his hard-won battle to deny the ingrained impulse to rush inside the hotel and make sure his she-wolf was safe.
“He said Jeremiah vowed to find her, but not why.” Jo’s fingers entwined with his, her other hand caressing his shoulder. The softness in her touch reassured his still agitated wolf.
“Are they certain a witchling caused the fire?” He couldn’t wrap his head around an eight-year-old capable of destructive magic.
Some pre-Inscription adolescentswerecapable of producing something the Anwyll calledwild magic, a casting made without a learned spell or the additional control of a linked tattoo. Butthe workings were minor and most often accidental—literally child’s play. The complex incantations and ancient runes required to create fire, along with other advanced spells, were gifted exclusively to battle witches and high-ranking Anwyll officials talented enough to master them.
“It’s Charlotte. Jeremiah told the patriarch the witchling’s name is Charlotte Miller.” Jo scanned the gloomy lot in a daze. “The vampire reporting to the patriarch was adamant the child started it, but how is that even possible? She’s too young. And when did Jeremiah get involved? Before or after he became an outcast? The Guard in Charlotte’s former region should be heading the investigation, not a Ferwyn male who couldn’t cross Clan borders a month ago. Unless…” Her head jerked, her gaze whipping to his. “What if he’s trying to locate the witchling for the rebels? He could still be working for them, even as an outcast. But if the Knights of Humanity don’t have Charlotte, who took her, and who murdered her mother? And where’s her father? You said Jeremiah was compromised by magic, but wouldn’t a witch’s spell have faded by now? Do you think he—”
“Breathe,” Tucker said, capturing a glossy lock of her hair and giving it a light tug. Like the pinches Jo dispensed whenever he wasn’t communicative enough, it was his way of reminding her to relax and slow down. “I don’t think it’s the KoH looking for Jeremiah’s witchling.”
“Then who?” she asked him, her demeanor open, patient, and as always—trusting.
He was afraid it was someone significantly worse than a human group of Fae Touched haters with political connections. Jo needed to know who they were up against as keeping her safe was no longer synonymous with keeping her in the dark.
Tucker was certain Samuel would agree it was time to explain everything.
“Jo…” He smoothed the hair from her brow and cupped her nape.
“Jacob, you know you can trust me with anything.” She latched onto his wrist; her other hand still entangled with his on the console. “And I swear, I can deal with it. I’m tougher than I look.”
“I never wanted you to deal with him at all,” he said, laying his forehead on hers.
“Who’s him? Jeremiah?”
“No, the pureblood Fae.”
“The pureblood…Fae,” she repeated, tone soft and rife with confusion.
“Yeah, a Sídhe named Lord Daimhín who’s—”
Tucker caught sight of the white SUV barreling toward them seconds before impact. Instinct took over, and he pressed Jo against his chest. He protected the back of her head with his hand and freed the other to brace against the dash. She gasped as the passenger side of their vehicle was rammed, the force of the collision sending them spinning across the cracked concrete. They plowed into the fender of a rusted van on cinderblocks and slid to jarring halt.
“Are you injured?” He pulled her far enough away to examine her face.
“No, I’m fine.” Jo’s expression, along with her scent, switched from shock to fear as four vampires exited the SUV that hit them. The group piled from the vehicle with sleek katanas drawn; the single-edge blades customarily chosen when the intent was to kill. “Jacob!”
“I see them.” He undid his seatbelt and reached into the rear cab, snatching the curved sword and small, round shield stowed underneath the floorboard. “Get the truck started as soon as I leave, then get the hell out of here.”
“I won’t leave you. There’s too many of them.” Unfastening her belt, she retrieved a 9mm semi-automatic pistol from their hidden stash. “If they aren’t going to fight fair, then neither are we.”
Jo was a crack shot. She’d joined her brothers and sire every hunting season since the age of five and was a better marksman than the most of the ESC Guard. He might need her expertise before the night was over.
“Don’t shoot unless—”
