Chapter Twenty-Three
GENEVIèVE
I stared out the window, sipping my hot chocolate. My feet were warm, my surroundings safe, my soul empty.
I can contribute too, my own words echoed in my mind.
So did Mina’s sharp rebuff, and the awkward silence that followed.
How?
A question answered by the cold, hard truth. I couldn’t contribute.
Even Mina’s well-intended comments offered no solace. There are a million things you’re better at than I am…
Sure, like decorating theater sets. Getting back on my feet after nasty breakups. Hearing background noises in paintings.
Not exactly a résumé to gloat over. Mope was more like it, and over the next half hour, that was what I did.
Then a Mercedes screeched into the hotel parking lot, and Henrik ran in.
I jumped to my feet, waving him over to my corner of the lounge.
“Henrik, what’s—”
“Where are the others?” he cut in.
I scowled. Right, the others. The competent ones.
I slid back into my seat, even more deflated than before.
“Grepper left, so they headed to the villa,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“They what?” Henrik barked.
The receptionist at the hotel desk looked over, then away.
“They’re going in for the painting,” I whispered. “Wait. What’s wrong?”
He snorted. “Where do I begin?”
He went on immediately, flooding me with everything he’d discovered about Alexandre Ernaux’s coven.
“We have a day’s head start on them,” I said, dismissing his warning.
“Says who?”
“Gordon.”
Henrik stared at me with pinpoints of red in his eyes. The air around me grew heavy, and a faraway ringing sounded in my ears.
The bastard was trying to enthrall me, wasn’t he?
I smacked the table. “Cut that out!”
“The coven is on its way now,” he insisted. “You don’t believe me?”
I crossed my arms. “I believe people who convince me, not jerks who try to enthrall me.”
“I was merely trying to speed things along.”
I snorted. “Well, that’s the thing about trust, Henrik. It takes time and consistency. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to watch the road.”
I said it all haughtily, as if I’d actually chosen that job.
He ran his hands through his raven-black hair, then thumped them on the table.
“There is no time. The coven is coming. We must warn Roux and the others.”
“Fine. Warn him.” I mimicked phoning.
“I tried. No connection.”
I pulled out my phone and dialed. A recording sounded, confirming what Henrik had said. No connection.
“We have no time,” he urged.
I looked out the window. The clear skies had clouded over, and snow was starting to fall.
“Gordon said…” I started.
Henrik shook his head, muttering, “Hope springs eternal.”
“Are you saying Gordon is wrong?”
He snorted. “I’m saying the coven is on its way now, and they’ll stop at nothing to get that Monet.”
My stomach sank. “Only an hour ago, Gordon confirmed we have time.”
Henrik huffed. “Let me guess. Gordon also confirmed that you would remain a safe distance from the action.”
I grimaced. Did he have to rub it in?
Then I froze. “Are you saying Gordon wants the team to get trapped between a warlock and vampires? That makes no sense. Gordon is desperate for the painting.”
Henrik nodded. “So desperate, he’s prepared to risk their lives for it. Their lives,” he emphasized. “Not yours.” He gestured impatiently. “Use the brain I know you have, Geneviève.”
I grimaced but kept my mouth shut as he went on.
“Gordon wants an extremely valuable artwork, but he’s distanced himself from every step of this investigation. He’s keeping his distance now. Why would a powerful warlock do that?”
I thought it over. “Because the painting is in the hands of an even more powerful warlock?”
Finally, something like respect shone in Henrik’s eyes.
“Exactly. The same applies to Alexandre Ernaux’s coven. Gordon won’t risk crossing them openly, but he can risk us. If we secure the painting, good. If we fail, he still has one consolation — no cleanup required for a group of men who know too much about how he operates.”
My stomach churned. “But the Monet…”
“Gordon knows this team has overcome impossible odds before. But this is a last-ditch effort, and he knows it.” He touched my arm and leaned in, making me shiver.
“I don’t care about the painting, and I don’t care about Gordon.
But I hate the idea of him walking away from this unscathed while the rest of us risk our lives. ”
My mouth fell open. That wasn’t exactly a declaration of undying loyalty to the team, but it sure came close. Maybe Henrik cared more than he let on.
My heart warmed. Boy, had Bene and the others underestimated him — the way they underestimated me.
I jumped to my feet and grabbed my jacket. “Let’s go, then.”
Henrik smirked. “You don’t prefer to stay here, where it’s safe?”
Part of me did, yes. And part of me screamed not to get into a car with an unreliable vampire.
Still, it was no contest.
“Don’t be such an asshole, Henrik,” I barked on the way to the door.
He grinned, proving my point, then raced by to hold the door open for me. Old habits died hard for a man raised in a bygone era.
“Also, I’m driving.” I held out my hand for the keys.
He snorted. “Don’t push it, Geneviève.”
I snapped my fingers, waiting. “On the contrary, Henrik. I’m the one tired of being pushed. So give me the goddamn keys before I take them.”
He studied me a moment longer then dropped them into my hand. Seconds later, we were roaring up the narrow, twisting road.
* * *
By the time we parked at the trailhead beside Roux’s rental car, the light flurry of snow had become a near blizzard.
Shivering, I zipped my jacket and flipped up the hood.
Then I set off against the biting wind, following the faint trail of pawprints Roux and Bene had left.
Snow was rapidly filling them, but I could just make out the telltale depressions.
Henrik followed, and we plowed steadily onward.
Ten long minutes later, Henrik grabbed my shoulder and put a finger to his lips.
I froze, listening. Someone — or something — was groaning.
My heart jumped to my throat, and I raced ahead, to where the woods ended and the property’s snow-covered lawn started.
A surprised chuff sounded, but I ignored it and fell to my knees beside a pair of felines.
“Bene! Are you all right?”
He lay crumpled in the snow, tawny sides heaving.
Just need a minute to catch my breath, he panted into my mind.
Roux stuck his muzzle over my shoulder and huffed. He’ll need more than that.
His breath hung in the cold air, but the warmth of his body enveloped me, and I couldn’t help running my hand over his muzzle. Tigers didn’t have manes, but their fur thickened at the corners of their cheeks, making them just as ferocious.
What are you doing here? he asked, glad yet exasperated.
“The coven is on its way right now,” Henrik said. “We have to abort.”
No kidding. Bene rolled slowly to sphinx position, then collapsed back to the ground.
How much time do we have? Roux persisted.
Henrik grimaced. “Twenty minutes, if we’re lucky.”
I looked at the house. Light streamed from the windows on the opposite side of the building, leaving the lawn on this side dim. The snow muffled any sound that might have escaped those thick concrete walls, so the only noise was the eerie wail of the wind.
“What happened?” I whispered.
Not sure. It was like a burst of electricity, Roux said. Or a burst of magic, I suppose.
I held out my hand, testing the air. Frowning, I moved a few steps right, running my hand along an invisible wall of energy.
“This is spelled. All of it,” I whispered to the others.
I thought you checked this area before, Bene grumbled.
“We did, but it wasn’t active then.” I moved my hand around, getting a feel for it. “This isn’t a standing spell. It’s being cast by someone right now.”
Roux cursed. You’re saying Grepper is home?
I nodded, peering down at the house. “He knows we’re here.”
Which means we’re out of here, Roux said, nudging Bene.
Snow stuck to their fur and whiskers, and their breath, like mine, swirled in the cold air.
But we saw him leave, Bene insisted.
“We did, and I kept a strict watch on the road. He must have circled back some other way,” I said.
We have to pull back. Now, Roux ordered. Mina and Marius won’t be able to provide aerial support in this snow.
Henrik gestured angrily. “Pull back where? The coven is nearly upon us.”
Roux looked from the house to the road. I did too, weighing our chances against a powerful warlock versus our chances against a gang of bloodthirsty vampires, whom we were sure to encounter on the road.
“Or we retreat that way.” Henrik pointed up the mountain, away from the house and the road.
A low snarl built in Roux’s throat. You mean taking the coward’s way out?
Henrik cocked his head in my direction, hinting something like, We have no other option with her around.
A switch flipped inside me, unleashing a wave of fury.
Weak link? Coward? Cheap excuse to give up without a fight?
I shook my head furiously. Not me, dammit. Not me.
Exactly two seconds later, I started barking orders.
“Henrik, get Bene back to the car. Find Mina and Marius and stand by. If we’re not back when the vampires arrive, drive up the mountain. And you—” I turned to Roux. “Come with me.”
I set off without waiting for an answer.
“Geneviève, this is impossible,” Henrik hissed.
Roux bumped my hand, telling me the same thing.
“I specialize in the impossible,” I muttered stubbornly.
“You’ll get hit by the same spell that got Bene,” Henrik warned.
I shook my head. We wouldn’t, because I could sense the lines of magic that ringed the property, as well as unprotected areas, like the path to the front door.
Gen, Roux warned as we approached the house. We’re no match for him.
No, we weren’t. Not if we tried fighting magic with magic or brute force with force. We needed an entirely different approach. The direct one.
“I have an idea,” I assured him.
Better be a good one, he grunted. What are you planning?
“Sometimes, the best things in life are unplanned,” I tried.
Gen…
“What happened to ‘I believe in you’?” I demanded.
He halted in his tracks, then dipped his head.
Lead the way.
He looked skeptical as hell, but he didn’t try to stop me. He just prowled along fiercely beside me, backing me up.
My heart swelled, and if I’d had a spare moment to drop to my knees and hug him, I would have.
Instead, I hurried to the front steps, stomped the snow off my boots, and rang the doorbell.
Ding-dong. Those cement walls had to be a foot thick, but my keen ears heard the sound echo inside.
Every hair on Roux’s long, striped back stood. Are you crazy?
The good kind of crazy, I prayed.
I rang again, stepped back, and did my best to gather my wits about me.
Watch it. This man is a powerful warlock, Roux warned.
So is Gordon, I said, nervously watching the door.
I have the feeling Grepper could kick Gordon’s ass, Roux muttered.
The door opened, and a beautiful young woman looked at me. Her judgmental gaze skidded over my body, taking in my hair, my clothes, my boots.
Yeah, well. She should try creeping up to a mountain hideaway sometime.
An older man appeared behind her — an aged, groomed Keanu Reeves, I couldn’t help thinking — and I forced a smile.
“Mr. Grepper?”
He nodded. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”
“Geneviève Durand.”
In for a penny, in for a pound, I’d figured.
His graying, collar-length hair swayed when he tilted his head, as if my name struck a chord. When his dark eyes strayed to Roux, they showed no alarm whatsoever.
And why should he be alarmed? I could feel magic pulsing all around him — much, much more than I’d ever observed with Gordon. Maybe that was how he’d slipped back to his house without us spotting him.
He looked away from Roux and spent a long time studying me. In a weird, twisted way, I found that refreshing. Finally, someone took me seriously.
“Let me guess,” he finally said. “You’re here to rob me of my painting.”
My nerves wobbled, but I upped the brilliance of my smile. “I was, but I have a new plan.”
He looked amused. “Talking me out of my painting, perhaps?”
A burst of wind came howling around the corner of the building, making me shiver.
“May I?” I gestured over the threshold, where an invisible wall of magic crackled, waiting for some fool to try to break through — a barrier many, many times more powerful than the magic at our pavilions at home.
Grepper grinned at me with renewed interest, then flicked his fingers, lowering the barrier.
“Please come in. Explain.” His eyes gleamed.
The hot young woman — his plaything, I figured — grimaced like I wasn’t worthy, but he dismissed her with another firm flick of his fingers.
“This,” he murmured dangerously, “I very much want to hear.”