Page 112 of Betrayed in Blood
“It will depend on April. Devon wants to wait to see how much of the mesmerizing will fade on its own. Until then, you stay here with me. April isn’t that far away. I’ll ask Devon when we can see her.”
Before she could say anymore, the door opened, and Madame Saldano marched in. Jacques followed and shrugged an apology. All I could do was smile. No one stopped the healer when she was seeing patients.
“Well, good afternoon. I see our patient is awake.” She set down her bag, removed several vials, then turned her sights on my mother. “I’m Madame Saldano, and I’m your healer. You look rather spunky for someone who’s been drugged for the last few weeks.”
Mom placed a hand to her throat. “Has it been that long?”
“From what Devon tells me.” The healer glanced at me. “I just came from the safe house. He said April only seemed willing to share the information so we could properly treat your mother.”
At least April still cared about Mom. I nodded.
“I’d like the room now. I want to examine your mother so I can determine the next steps. Then she needs to rest.” She raised her hand as if ready to defend her position, though no one seemed ready to argue. “I know you feel good, Willa, but your body has been through quite a lot. I’ve asked Cook to make a broth for you, then you can have something more substantial this evening. You still need bed rest.” She glanced at the magazine Mom held and then at the stack of books and tablet on the table. “It appears you have enough entertainment to keep you busy until tomorrow, and then I’ll reassess your activity level.” She turned to me. “Out. Now. You can visit her in a couple of hours.”
I backed away, not daring to question her.
“Cressa, do you have my phone by any chance? I’d like to call the girls and then check in with the salon and spa.”
“I’ll have to see if Devon recovered it. If not, you can use mine.” I glanced around and found her travel bag on a chair. I opened the side pocket. “Here’s your phone book.” I laid it on top of the tablet.
She nodded.
I went to the door, but before I left, I asked, “What are you going to tell the girls?”
“That I’ve been suffering from a horrible migraine attack and stomach flu and that I’m irritated with April for not telling them.” She gave me a grin I rarely ever saw. One of those mischievous, she’s going to do something completely out of character smiles. “At least it has a spark of truth. Right now, I could wring April’s neck.”
I left her room, feeling lighter than I had in days. When I heard the light steps behind me, I sighed. Something told me I was about to be derailed from good old-fashioned alone time.
Sergi’s tone was light and his expression unreadable, which doused my good mood with dread. “Devon would like to see you in his office.”
I followedSergi to Devon’s office. When he turned down the hall that led to his office, I stopped and stared after him. He’d said Devon’s office, hadn’t he?
“Devon’s office,” he called back as if he heard me.
So, Sergi was just the messenger. Curious, I increased my pace to Devon’s office and tapped on his door. I’d barely opened it when Devon said, “Come in.”
He was at his desk, writing with his fountain pen on what looked like his more expensive linen stationery. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
I stood patiently, arms crossed over my chest. One hip might have been stuck out as if I was in a mood, but my grin was wide. He had no idea who’d walked into his office. For such an observant vamp, he had one huge blind spot. I was convinced it had to do with his fountain pen. As forward-thinking as he was, he loved the tactile feel of years gone by. His primary mode of communication was either email or text with the occasional phone call. But to impart important events or to correspond with certain people, he hand-wrote letters. I’d seen him write dozens without a single blemish or blotch of ink. And while he wrote, he seemed momentarily transported to a different time, as if he lived inside a snow globe. If he’d been typing out an email or text, he would have glanced up the moment the door opened. I found it endearing.
He signed his name then set the letter aside before capping the fountain pen and returning it to its special holder made of cherrywood and brass. Then he finally looked up.
“Cressa! Why didn’t you say something?” He noted my grin and smiled.
“You know I love watching you write.”
He pushed the chair away from the desk and turned it sideways, waving me over. It was going to be that kind of meeting. Suddenly, I didn’t mind losing out on my alone time.
I walked around the desk, and my grin turned wicked when he patted his lap. “Should I lock the door?”
“I wish there was time for that.”
I sat on his lap, my back against his chest, and he twirled the chair so we could look out the window. I laid my head on his shoulder and stared at the branches of the sycamore tree.
“I’m sorry to send Sergi to find you. I had a few letters that need to be sent immediately and have several more emails to write before going back to the safe house.”
“You’re having success?”
“Not really, but I’ve discovered over the centuries that intense pressure the first few days goes a long way to loosen lips. It doesn’t always work. Jasper will be tough, but I’m sure his friend will break, and that might be enough. But it doesn’t leave much time between our sessions.” When I shivered, he added, “It’s not torture. At least, not yet. It’s more annoyance than anything.”
