Chapter Twenty-Four
Katherine knew this was a bad idea.
At the very least, she should take more time to plan before she tried the spell on Byron.
Set up a distraction, bring him onto her turf where she could control the variables.
But doing that would tip Sylvia off to what she was doing—and, more importantly, it would require patience, which was not Katherine’s strong suit.
Why put off until later the bastards you can confront today?
She had nothing to do right now, and Byron’s office happened to be right near her apartment.
(Okay, it was a forty-minute drive even without traffic—but still, in LA, that was practically next door.) (She was reaching.) (How valuable was patience, anyway?)
She pressed the button for floor seventeen, where Byron’s entertainment law firm was located. Waited as the elevator rose up, then waited as the bored receptionist told her she’d go check if Mr. Chambers was free.
His smug face when he walked in and saw her scrunched into the world’s most uncomfortably deep armchair was infuriating.
“Katherine,” he said. “Come on back.”
He kept his eyes glued to her, amusement sparking as she struggled to push herself up. Damn fancy offices. Damn overpriced chairs. Damn her, for deciding to come here and give him the upper hand.
After finally making her way to her feet, Katherine followed Byron to his office.
He had a corner office, of course, the fully glass wall giving a clear view of the city below.
His parents had bought him his spot at Stanford Law, she reminded herself.
She’d heard it cost them an entire building—that’s how unqualified their son was.
But she supposed that didn’t matter when he’d ultimately gotten it anyway. When he got to reap the rewards of it every day.
“So,” he said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Katherine had spent the drive over here debating how she was going to do this, and she had landed on having no fucking clue.
She’d hoped something would come to her when she got here, but as she sat in this office that she never would have belonged in, magic or no, all of the words eddied out of her head.
She dug her nails into her palm, trying to force herself back on track.
“Sylvia was inspired by Noctis’ yearly check-ins and thought we should start doing something similar with our members,” Katherine lied. “She sent me to see if you have any concerns about the coven that you’d like to share.”
“Concerns? Of course not.” Byron smiled. “Aestas is such a lovely, inclusive coven to be a part of.” The emphasis he put on inclusive made his true thoughts clear.
Katherine couldn’t help her scoff. She hid it with a cough. “Could I get a glass of water?”
“Of course, Katherine.”
Katherine gave herself ten seconds after Byron left to gather her emotions before she pulled out her caster. She cut into her palm, pressing her hand against her leg and letting the black of her pants hide the blood. She slipped the knife back into her pocket as Byron returned.
He held the cup of water out to her, and she lifted her uncut hand to grab it.
Their fingers brushed, and she knew this was her moment.
As long as she kept it contained enough, he’d never see.
All she had to do was blank out her mind, like Silas suggested.
Just don’t think of anything. Don’t think of getting caught.
Don’t think of how disappointed Sylvia would be if she knew you were doing this.
Come the fuck on, Katherine, stop being such a cowardly piece of shit and just do it.
She took a deep breath and focused on the spell. Just as the rune was about to crystallize, Byron’s gaze moved to the hand pressed against her leg, his lips curving up in a sly smile.
He knows.
She cursed internally. He wasn’t showing an ounce of concern. If he was that calm, he must’ve already figured a way around her spell even if she were to try it.
Or he wasn’t guilty.
Katherine’s anger buzzed as Byron sat down across from her, leaning back with a satisfied sigh.
“I’m glad to hear you’re happy in Aestas,” she said. “I know you were friends with Joe. His recent arrest must have been—”
“Tragic,” Byron interrupted. Her eyes snapped up at him, but he shrugged lazily. “That he would resort to something so low.”
She ground her teeth. His tactics were so transparently designed to push her buttons, and she hated herself for letting it work. What was she doing? Why was she letting him win?
“And I don’t think he was doing it alone,” she said.
“My goodness.” Byron’s voice dripped with fake concern. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, for one thing, he’s a grade-A blockhead who can’t even manage to make coffee, let alone do complicated old magic.”
Byron chuckled. “Yes, I suppose you do need to be quite intelligent to make altum.”
It was the smug grin that did it. It was so sure, a smile built on a lifetime of never having to worry that he was anything other than the top dog. She might not have the altum tracking spell as proof, but that smile was all she needed.
“Now, I never said that. I think you’d actually have to be quite dense.”
Byron’s eyes flashed. “And why is that?”
“Because I catch everyone who makes altum. Even if it takes a while. Eventually, they slip up. And I’m there.”
There was a twitch in Byron’s jaw, and Katherine could see what was going through his head—that fragile ego of his demanding that he tell her she’d never get him. That he was going to be the one to get away with it. That she didn’t stand a chance against his superior resources and intellect.
They’d see about that.
“Anyway,” she said, pushing her chair back and standing up, “I’ve been going around asking prominent members of the coven to come to me with any information they may hear.”
Byron blinked, the moment of anger fading from his face. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll do just that.”
“Thanks, Byron.” Katherine headed toward the door, then turned back to him. “Stay safe out there. With so much going on in the city, I’d hate for you to get caught up in anything nasty.”