Spell Bound - Kelley Armstrong [36]
She shook her head, shifting in her seat, frustrated by my refusal to buy into her perfectly rational story. “How did they kill Tiffany? Lethal dose of poison. Then they push you onto a busy street? What are the chances of you dying from that?”
“But I’m on to you. Tiffany wasn’t. Everything so far has failed, so you’re forced to resort to desperate measures. And if that fails, lure me to a meeting and lower my guard by appealing to my sympathetic side.” I leaned forward. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a sympathetic side.”
“Just listen—”
“I am listening. You didn’t kill Tiffany. Your evil relatives did. The same relatives who claim you’re the evil one, that you’re acting on your own. Who’s right?” I put my elbows on the table, getting close enough to see the flakes on her chapped lips. “I don’t give a shit. I have my own problems, and you’re the one most easily solved. Come near me again—for any reason—and I’ll swat you down. Understood?”
Her lips tightened. “It’s not me you need to worry about. You’ll see that soon enough. Maybe when you read my obituary.”
“Nah, I’m pretty sure your folks aren’t going to pay for one.” I stood. “If we’re done here . . . ?”
She pushed back her chair, stood, and stalked out before I could leave.
“So what do you think?” I said to Adam as I drove us back to our motel.
“If you’re asking anyone’s opinion—even mine—you aren’t completely sure yourself. Same here. It smells like bullshit, but doesn’t stink any worse than the story her aunt gave us. I suspect the truth is caught in the middle. Unfortunately, so are you. Nothing you can do either way.”
“Just keep moving forward and watching my back.”
I’m sure he knew what I was thinking. If Veronica Tucker died, I’d blame myself. If another witch was murdered because of Veronica Tucker, I’d blame myself. If I focused on figuring out the truth here and, meanwhile, Jaime or Hope was targeted by that crazy bunch of activists, I’d blame myself. I’d pretty much bought myself a ticket to Guilt Island any way I turned.
Best I could do was look at my options and decide “which one could I live with the least.” Number three, no question. So follow my own advice—move forward and watch my back.
The big question, though, was where I was moving forward to.
“Miami,” Adam said. “That girl or her aunties get within a mile of Cortez headquarters and they’ll find themselves locked up, awaiting interrogation from someone a whole lot nastier than you or me.”
I shook my head. “The Cabal won’t give a shit about some chicks killing off witches.”
“The Cabal might not, but Lucas will, meaning Benicio will and, as far as I’m concerned, they are the Cortez Cabal.”
When I didn’t answer, he looked over. “You need to tell Lucas and Paige about your spell problem sooner or later.”
“You think I’m avoiding Miami so I don’t have to tell Lucas and Paige? Uh no. I’m avoiding Miami until I’m sure I won’t lead a witch-hunter to Paige. We have other things we can follow up on for now.”
“Like what?”
“I’ll call Lucas from the motel. I’m sure he’ll have something.”
Lucas had nothing. Not too surprising, considering he’d only landed in Miami an hour ago.
“We’ll just chill out here, then,” I said.
“In the city where these witch-hunters reside?” Lucas’s voice rose on the speakerphone, a rare show of incredulity. “After you’ve made contact with them?”
Across the room, Adam nodded in emphatic agreement.
“I’d like you here,” Lucas said. “Jaime is en route, as is Jeremy. Elena, Hope, and Karl will be following tonight. They’ve called a council meeting—”
“I’m not council.”
“I am,” Adam said.
“You go then.”
He gave me a look, then said to Lucas, “Savannah’s concerned about leading the witch-hunter back to Paige.” He mouthed Which is bullshit to me. “We’ve got a few things to do first, but we’ll come to Miami tomorrow.”
Next I called Sean. My half brother was chief operating officer of the Nast Cabal. How the guy ever climbed so high, when he’d somehow failed to