“And a cup of tea would be lovely right now,” she added.
I smiled and rose, grabbing the kettle before heading into the bathroom to fill it. And decided to ask the one question I’d been avoiding up until now. “Why do you really think Max was there tonight?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you did cast some sort of truth spell, didn’t you?”
“Only a minor one.” She paused. “I’m surprised you picked it up and he didn’t.”
I came out and put the kettle back onto its stand. “I’m more familiar with your recent magic.”
“True.” She paused again. “There was no lie in anything he said.”
“But?”
“But I wish I’d had more time and strength to question him. He’s up to something, and I’d like to know what.” She grimaced. “I’d also like to think he’s not deeply involved in any of this, but Tris did contact him, and I’ve a feeling that wasn’t a coincidence.”
“Which never did make sense—I mean, Max is an heir, however indirect, so why would they allow Tris to contact him? Why wouldn’t they just take Max out as they did the others?”
“There are lots of things not making sense at the moment.” She shrugged. “Hopefully, I’ll have more of a chance to question him tomorrow.”
“That’s if he turns up. He’s just as likely not to, given he might have to help with the cleanup.”
I picked up the two cups of tea; she accepted hers with a smile. “I believe curiosity is the reason he turned up tonight, and I think it’ll be the reason he turns up tomorrow.”
“Max and curiosity have never been bosom buddies.”
“Unless there was a deal or money to be had.”
True. I frowned. “There’s not much of a deal to be had when it comes to Darkside. Especially for an heir.”
“Tris thought otherwise. And, heir or not, Max might well think the same.”
“Meaning maybe we should be doing something tomorrow about bugging him. Or, at the very least, put a tracker on his car.”
She smiled. “This is why you’re my favorite grandchild—you’re practical but sneaky, just like me.”
I resisted the urge to point out that—technically—I wasn’t her grandchild or even her great-grandchild, as there were centuries more than that between us. “We might have to pull in either Mia or Ginny to help us. He’ll be watching for the two of us, given our recent show of distrust.”
Ginny in particular would be a good choice, as she could track people, animals, or vehicles via the color and currents they left behind after movement. She also happened to be a detective with the major crimes unit; if there was a shady, big-money deal going down in Ainslyn, she’d probably know about it.
“Good idea. In the meantime, you’d better send a message to your Blackbird, otherwise he’ll be ringing at some ungodly hour of the morning again.”
I gave her a deadpan look. “He’s not my anything and never will be, given all he’s interested in is a short-term fling.”
“Flings can still be fun.”
“Yes, but I’m over being considered a short-term prospect rather than long.”
“So agree to one, and work on the other.” Mischief twinkled in her eyes. “I speak from experience when I say it can certainly work.”
I smiled. “I think it’s safe to say that I don’t have your good fortune when it comes to men.”
“That’s your problem—no self-belief.”
I rolled my eyes. “If I can’t hold the attraction of the man whose soul is supposedly linked to mine, what hope is there for me?”
“Plenty.” She made a shooing motion. “Go contact him so we can get some rest.”
I took a sip of tea, then headed into the bathroom to send him a text. It would have been far easier to call, but I was a little peeved at the man and avoiding direct contact where possible. His reply was quick and to the point—where are you now?
Recovering. Be home tomorrow.
I hit the mute button after I sent that, then put the phone down and walked out. Luc had made it very clear that his work as a Blackbird—the traditional protectors of witch kings—and his duty to the crown and the current queen were all he cared about or wanted in his life. The next step—if there ever was to be a next step in our so-far nonexistent relationship—had to be his. I’d certainly made it clear enough what I wanted.
We finished our pizza, topped it off with some chocolate, and then I settled down to watch some late-night TV while Mo slept. I must have drifted off fairly quickly, because a sharply ringing phone woke me hours later. I opened my eyes and was met by daylight.
“Tell them to bugger off,” Mo muttered. “It’s too damn early to get up.”
I groped the bedside table between us, found her phone, and discovered it was seven, which wasn’t that much earlier than our usual weekday waking time. I hit the answer button and said, a little groggily, “Hello?”
“Mo? That you?”
“No,” I said, not immediately recognizing the woman’s voice. “It’s Gwen.”
“Ah, the paradox. It’s her friend—Jackie. Is she around?”
“She’s asleep.”
“Then you need to wake her. I’ve got some news she’ll want to hear.”
“I’m not waking her without good reason. She gets grouchy.”
“I do not,” Mo refuted.
“Then tell her,” Jackie said, “that I’ve finally found Jules Okoro.”
Chapter Three
The mysterious Jules Okoro—who wasn’t a relative of my mother’s as far as we could ascertain—was an indirect heir to the Witch King’s crown and, with the death of Gareth and Henry, now the only one ahead of Max. Why they were being killed instead of those whose bloodline could be traced back directly to Uhtric or even Layton was something Jackie had been researching.
Although did it even matter anymore, given the sword had been claimed?
Mo sat up and made a give-me motion. I handed the phone to her, then tossed the comforter aside and padded into the bathroom to check my clothes. My jeans and sweater were still damp, but my underclothes and shirt had at least dried. Demon scent still clung to everything, though. I grimaced and tugged them on regardless. I had a feeling we wouldn’t be hanging about for long, and smelly clothes were better than no clothes when we got to wherever Jules Okoro might be.
Once dressed, I unplugged my phone and then glanced at the screen. Luc hadn’t replied to my last text, and that niggled. Which was stupid and irrational, but then, when it came to desire, irrationality seemed to be a common theme in my life.
I shoved the phone and charger into my pocket and headed out. Mo was in the process of getting dressed.
“So where are we going?” I walked across the room and opened the window. The clouds were thick and gray, and the cold air filled with the promise of rain. Flying into a storm was not one of my favorite things to do, but it wasn’t like we had any real choice.
“Thornaby.”
“And that’s where, exactly?”