Chapter Eighteen
Rowan awoke to a headache the size of New York, a clear sign that he had been under an enchantment. He’d had the craziest dream. And what was he doing in an alley?
“Good afternoon.”
He knew that soft, lyrical voice. Not a dream, then.
He scrambled to his feet and checked to make sure he was wearing clothes.
Relieved that he was dressed and not swinging in the wind, he spun around to locate her.
She sat a short distance away, fully clothed, her knees pulled against her chest, her face lost in shadows.
She rose and moved toward him. Each liquid step was measured and slow, as though she were controlling time itself. After the day he’d had, he wouldn’t be surprised if she was. Clouds parted overhead, creating enough light for him to see her clearly.
He stepped back. Her hair color, eyes, even the shape of her face were the same as the enchantress on the island, but there was a difference.
Something familiar. A face he’d thought forgotten.
Amendment. A face he’d tried to forget. He touched the brand over his heart.
He remembered telling the enchantress on the island that if their connection was a blending of two soulmates, he would recognize her even if she used glamours.
But it was much more than a joining of soulmates. He’d known her before. Loved her before. And when they told him she’d died, it had nearly destroyed him.
Anger welled to deepen his voice. “Hello, Morgan.”
Her face tilted. “How long have you known?”
“Just now. Always. Hell if I know. Pick one.”
“You are angry.”
“I’d have to calm down to just feel angry. They told me you died. Why did you trick me? I would have been happy to see you.”
She arched an eyebrow, tilting her head. “Dead, you say? You must have been relieved. The Talons and the Grey Council snapped their fingers, and you left me for them.”
He clenched his hands at his sides. “Now I remember why I left. You are the most infuriating woman. Wait. Why would I have been relieved?”
She waved away his comment. “It no longer matters.”
He reached for her shoulders to turn her toward him. “Obviously it matters. All of it. Why did you leave Bealtaine without telling me? Why did you seduce me just now if I’m such a bastard?”
“You saved the dog, and I wanted you.”
The air heated around him as he leaned toward her, a heart’s breath from her full lips. “You want me?” He drew back. “Wait. A test? I don’t know whether to be grateful or insulted. Because of a dog, you can trust me now?”
“It is a beginning. And you should feel grateful. I could as easily kill you.”
He drew back even more. “It’s all coming back, why we fought. And you could not trust me on the island?”
“There was too much at stake.”
“Ouch.”
“Do not play the wounded warrior. You do not trust me either. Come. We must talk.”
“Whenever a woman says those words, the news is always bad.”
She looped her arm through his. “This time won’t be any different.”
****
He tried to hail a taxi or an Uber as the steady stream of traffic edged past the sidewalk by the alleyway where Rowan and Morgan had made love.
Morgan stood beside him, patiently waiting.
She was giving him time to process. That was so like her.
Morgan thought of others first, and her needs and wants last. Which meant that if she was here, instead of in hiding like the other female Wizards who had escaped the island, something was terribly wrong and she needed his help.
She would have known that seeing her again would be a shock that brought up painful memories.
He’d dealt her an emotional blow as well when he told her he had believed she was dead.
But he hadn’t questioned the story they’d spun that she’d died.
That was on him. It hurt that she had been right when she’d said that, in a way, he had been relieved.
The reason he’d accepted the assignment that took him from her was that he needed the distance.
He knew that if she had asked him to stay and give up working for the Talons and the Grey Council, he would have.
At the time, that scenario scared him worse than facing a swarm of angry, half-human, half-bird Harpies.
Rowan slid his glasses down to rub the bridge of his nose. He had been young and dumb. Not one of his finer moments. His cell phone vibrated and he grabbed it from his inside coat pocket. “What?”
The voice on the other end laughed. “It’s Lyons. Catch you at a bad time?”
“Understatement.” Rowan glanced over toward Morgan. The Mona Lisa smile told him she might have read his thoughts. The possibility used to annoy him. Now he could see the advantages. He had never been good with words. “Do you have a lead?”
“Another dead body. Better come quick if you want to see it before its bagged and tagged.”
“On my way.” Rowan replaced his cell and focused on Morgan. “I have a lot of dead bodies and no clear answers as to how they died. I’ve heard female Wizards can determine the cause of death. Any truth to the rumor?”
“If I do this for you, will you help me solve the question of why my sisters were murdered?”
So that was what she was after. Had he hoped for something else?
He gritted his teeth and pushed the thought out of his mind.
She’d confirmed what he and his brother had suspected.
Three female Wizards had died on the first night of Bealtaine.
Rowan had a bad feeling that finding the killer was going to be easier than ferreting out the motive.
He looked out over the flow of traffic. Everything appeared back to normal—normal gridlock, that is.
Once he agreed to help Morgan, he was honor bound.
There was nothing casual about a conversation with a female Wizard.
“To be clear about the ground rules, you’ll come with me, tell me how the Wizard was killed, and I’ll help you find your sisters’ murderer.” When she nodded, he continued. “I’ll also need the location of the young Wizardlings you and your sister Wizards kidnapped.”
“Rescued,” she corrected. Morgan cinched the belt of her raincoat tighter. “You’re delusional if you think I’ll turn over that information.”
“Was that a yes or a no?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “For the last few centuries, we have placed the care of our Wizardlings in the hands of the Grey Council and the Talons, with mixed results. Turning them over to you is not a consideration. In fact, if all male Wizards, you included, disappeared into a dark abyss of never-ending pain and torment, I would not shed a single tear. How is that for an answer?”
“Crystal clear.” Rowan hailed a cab. “But a simple yes or no would have worked just as well. I’m assuming you set up this whole traffic chaos scene as a test to see if I’d save a human. The dog was a nice touch.”
“Wiz is a shapeshifter friend of mine. We were divided on whether you’d risk defying the rules of the magical community and save a human. But if you did, it was Wiz’s idea that we confirm that you still had a heart.”
The cab pulled to the curb, and as though on cue, Wiz trotted over to Morgan and nuzzled her hand. She reached down and whispered something in his ear before climbing with him into the back seat.
Rowan climbed into the cab after her and Wiz and gave the driver an address. As the taxi merged into traffic, Rowan glanced toward the dog, who sat between Rowan and Morgan. “Why is it coming with us?”
“He,” she said, emphasizing the word, “is someone I can trust.”