Deadly Vows Read online

  “No, nor did I really expect to.” He glanced at me; there was something in his expression that had my breath stuttering in my throat. “I did contact a friend in Canberra, though. Your mother hasn’t left.”

  My breath whooshed out. “I guess that’s something.”

  “Yes, and it gets even more interesting. Apparently, she and your father have separated.”

  “What? Impossible. My mother would never contemplate such a move.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Couples do fall out of love.”

  “Yes, but they were never in love. It was a union of political and power consolidation, nothing more.”

  “Which means,” Belle said, “she must have a very good reason for putting him aside.”

  “Which I think Ashworth might be able to tell us about. Oh, and before I forget, Ashworth and Eli met the truth seeker and auditor at Tullamarine this afternoon.”

  I frowned. “They’re not going to have time to record what happened to me. Not before the meeting tonight.”

  “No, but they can bear witness to said meeting as part of the information gathering process.”

  “Neither my father nor Clayton will admit anything in their presence.”

  “Which is why they will be recording the conversation from a safe distance.”

  “We’ll all be recording the damn conversation,” Belle commented.

  Monty glanced briefly over his shoulder. “I think it likely they’ll demand all phones turned off and placed on a table—especially given how cautious they’ve been to date.”

  “Which means they may also pat us down for listening devices.”

  “They may well, but they won’t find it.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

  “That, my dear cousin, will soon be revealed.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You fail when it comes to being all edgy and mysterious.”

  “Well, there goes one means of attracting my true love.”

  Belle snorted, and Monty’s grin grew. I shook my head and said, “Is it actually legal to record a conversation without informing all parties involved?”

  “I did check, and here in Victoria the answer is yes, just as long as the person who is secretly recording the conversation is one party of that conversation.”

  I frowned. “But they’ll be elsewhere—”

  “In this case, you’re the person recording it, as you’ve requested their help to sort out this situation.”

  “Are they sure that will hold up in court?”

  “Certain of it.” He pulled into the driveway of a cream-colored, Victorian-style double-story building and parked around the back. “This way, ladies.”

  He jumped out and led us into the beautiful old building. After speaking briefly to the waitress who came to meet us, we were taken into what looked like an old Regency parlor. Maelle would have been very at ease in this place.

  Belle and Monty ordered a meal and coffee. I stuck with tea and a bag of plain potato chips; anything else would have been dangerous given the uneasiness in my stomach. The drinks and the food arrived promptly, and we talked about everything other than the meeting that was now less than two hours away.

  Just after seven, the door opened. Ashworth and Eli stepped into the room, followed by two women—one who looked barely out of her teens, the other in her mid-fifties.

  Ashworth strode over to me and wrapped me in a big bear hug. “How’re you holding up, lass?”

  I smiled into his chest. “Better now that you and Eli are here.”

  “Wouldn’t miss this confrontation for the world.” He pulled back, then turned around and motioned to the two women. “I’d like you to meet Jenna Jones and Ruby Harrison, our truth seeker and auditor respectively.”

  I walked over to shake their hands. Jenna was the younger of the two, and obviously had some Sarr blood in her. Her skin was brown, her eyes gray, and her hair every bit as thick and lush as Belle’s. Power surged as our hands met, but it was a mix of both magic and psychic energy. Ruby had strawberry-blonde hair—suggesting there was only a distant connection to one of the royal lines—bright blue eyes, and a gorgeously Rubenesque figure. Her grip held the same mix of psychic and magical energy.

  “Thank you both for coming here today.”

  Ruby’s voice, like her quick smile, was brisk and businesslike. “If Clayton Marlowe and your father are indeed complicit in arranging the marriage of an unwilling and drugged minor, then they must be brought to justice. The testimony of both yourself and your familiar, as well as the conversation we record tonight, will play a major part in the decision whether to take them to court or not.”

  I frowned. “If it’s against the law, surely they must be charged.”

  “It depends entirely on the evidence, which we’ve not heard as yet.” She flashed another quick smile. “Fear not, I’ve seen cases in court that have started with far less than what we already have here. Now, let’s get you prepared.”

  She placed her briefcase on the table and pulled out a folder. The preparation involved me signing a formal request for their help, reading a pamphlet on truth seeking—what it involved and what the risks were—and then signing a permission form.

  When that was done, she took a small silver jewelry box out of her briefcase and opened it up. Inside was an oval-shaped opal pendant about the size of my thumb. She lifted it by the chain and motioned me to turn around. I did, ducking down slightly so that she could place it easily around my neck. The back of the stone was metal and felt cold against my skin.

  “The electronics are under the pendant’s stone,” she said. “You activate it by pressing the small button on the rear. We’ll monitor, and can remotely deactivate if necessary.”

  “Why would you need to deactivate it?” Belle said. “Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of the thing?”

  “There’ve been some situations in the past where the suspects have swept the general area with a bug finder. While there’s been no indication that either man has made inquiries for such a device, it’s better for our case and for you if we proceed cautiously.”

  “Them finding the device wouldn’t jeopardize the overall case, though,” Ashworth commented.

  Ruby glanced at him. “No, but it would make them aware that the Society is watching them, and that could make them react in unforeseen—and unwanted—ways.”

  “Given who we’re dealing with, it’s likely he already knows,” Eli said. “I very much suspect him reacting in unforeseen ways is already on the cards.”

  His words hung ominously in the air. I briefly closed my eyes and fought to keep calm. Me becoming a messy bundle of nerves and fear was exactly what Clayton wanted; if we were to have any hope of surviving what was to come, then we had to keep strong and do the unexpected.

  Ruby shuffled the paperwork back into her briefcase, then picked it up. “We shall get going. I prefer to scout the area a little before choosing a suitable—”

  “Take Belle with you,” I cut in. “She’s my familiar, and I’d rather keep her out of Clayton’s way.”

  “And why is that?” Jenna studied me through narrowed eyes. Though I couldn’t feel the caress of magic or any step into my thoughts, I nevertheless had the feeling she was pulling forth secrets.

  She won’t get far, Belle said. Not while I’m here.

  You won’t be able to help me shield when she does her truth-seeking thing.

  I know, but right now, she doesn’t need to know all the gritty details. To Jenna, she added, “I placed a spell on him when I rescued Lizzie. Clayton is a man who doesn’t like being bested, especially by a low-class witch like myself.”

  A small smile touched Jenna’s lips. “That is indeed true.”

  “And makes this investigation a whole lot more interesting,” Ruby said. “Come along, my dear.”

  With that, they turned and left. Belle raised an eyebrow at their abrupt departure, but nevertheless followed.

  I glanced at Ashworth. “I’m guessing
they hired a car at the airport?”

  His smile crinkled the corners of his muddy silver eyes. “Broomsticks went out with the Dark Ages, lass.”

  “There was talk of a mechanical version a century or so ago—I saw the plans for it when I was working in the archives. It never got off the ground though.” As our joint groans filled the air, Monty glanced at his watch. “We’ve got ten minutes before we need to leave. What’s the plan?”

  “I think it’s better to go in with no plan,” Eli said. He leaned against the wall, his thick salt-and-pepper hair gleaming in the room’s light but his blue eyes deeply shadowed. “And definitely no magic at the ready. We’re there as backup and witnesses. If we go in defensive, they’ll react in kind. That’s a situation that could get ugly all too quickly—and play in their favor when this gets to the courts.”

  “If it gets to the courts,” I muttered.

  Ashworth squeezed my arm. “The Society is confident they can follow this through to the end. Shall we go?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, just led the way out. His truck was parked next to Monty’s borrowed car.

  “I think it best if we all park out on the street and use the front door—there’s not much maneuvering room in the café’s back hallway if things immediately go to hell,” he added. “Is Aiden going to meet us there?”

  “Yes. I’ve just got to send him a text.”

  Which I did once I’d climbed into Monty’s borrowed wagon. It didn’t take us long to get back to the café, where we were once again greeted by the shattered remnants of our protection spells floating on the breeze.

  “Well, fuck,” Monty said. “So much for thinking my alarm spell would give us advance warning.”

  “You’re dealing with two of the strongest witches in Canberra,” I said. “Don’t feel bad.”

  “I don’t. I’m just pissed off—I was assured that spell would work no matter how strong the witch it was warding against.”

  “It doesn’t really matter now.” My gaze was on the open front door. It was an invitation to enter—one we couldn’t really refuse. “Park up the road. We’ll walk down.”

  As Monty obeyed and Ashworth stopped behind us, Aiden appeared. He opened my door and offered me his hand. I gripped it tightly and let him help me out. But as much as I wanted to hang on to him, I couldn’t. I had no doubt Clayton and my father were watching us, and I wasn’t about to give them any more ammunition than they’d already collected when it came to my private life.

  “What’s the plan?” His gaze swept the four of us. “Where’s Belle?”

  “Safe with the auditor.”

  “Ah. Good.”

  “Let’s go, lass,” Ashworth said softly. “Better to get this all over with sooner rather than later.”

  “I’m not entirely sure I agree with that statement.”

  But I nevertheless activated the listening device, then slung the pack over my shoulder and strode down toward the café.

  The four men followed me, their steps echoing with purpose and strength. It should have comforted me. It didn’t.

  I neared the door but didn’t alter my pace; if I faltered now—in any way—I’d end up running. The time for that was over.

  The café’s lights were all on, and in their warm glow the shattered remnants of our protection spells were very visible. The threads that contained the wild magic did at least remain intact, and I wondered why, given they’d probably had plenty of time to utterly strip all protections from the café. It did at least mean that with those strands still active, we still had some protection against any move my father and Clayton might make.

  The two of them were sitting at a table in the middle of the room. They were both tall and somewhat slender, with silver eyes that gleamed coldly even under the warmth of the lights. Both could be termed handsome men, though Clayton’s face was deeply etched with lines that hadn’t been there twelve years ago. The sheer force of their joint power oozed through the room and snatched my breath.

  But only Clayton’s aura ran with black and purple.

  He was deeply, disturbingly furious.

  My steps faltered.

  Not because of what I saw in him, but rather what I felt in me. I’d expected fear. I’d expected panic. I’d expected that the mere sight of him would have me reverting to the frightened sixteen-year-old who had no means of fighting the man tearing at her clothes and bruising her flesh.

  What I hadn’t expected was the deep and utter rage.

  Only it wasn’t aimed at Clayton.

  It was aimed at my father.

  Chapter Seven

  That rage rolled over me, a red wave so strong I couldn’t have combatted it even if I’d wanted to. It fueled me, strengthened me, swept away thought and fear and common sense.

  As the two men rose to their feet, I took several quick steps forward, drew back my fist, and punched my father so damn hard, his head snapped back. He crashed backward, blood spurting from his mashed nose.

  I stood over his prone form, my right fist aching but both clenched against the pulsing need to punch him again and again while he was down. But as strong as the rage was, awareness lingered deeper down. One punch might be forgiven in court; two or more would play into his favor.

  Magic surged, its intent so obvious that the remaining unbroken threads in our protection spells began to pulse.

  “I wouldn’t finish that spell, Clayton,” came Monty’s soft warning. “You’ve had long enough to study the magic in this place to know any such response would be unwise. Attempt any physical action and you’ll find my fist in your face.”

  Monty stood to my right, so close that I could smell the sharpness of his aftershave. Aiden had stopped to my left, his body practically humming with rage. I didn’t have to look at him to know his fists were clenched and knuckles white. He remained in control of his werewolf instincts to protect, but only just. Ashworth and Eli were several steps further back, positioned either side of Monty and Aiden.

  Clayton’s magic stilled, but his fury washed dark waves of anger over me as I continued to glare down at my father.

  Lawrence calmly tugged a white handkerchief from the top pocket of his suit jacket and gently pressed it against his broken and bloody nose.

  “That, daughter, was uncalled for.”

  The red wave rose again, and I dug my nails into the palms of my hands in an effort to combat it.

  “Uncalled for?” I growled. “You forced me into a marriage I didn’t want and a wedding night in which I was nearly raped. You’re my fucking father. You should have protected me instead of pawning me off to the highest bidder in an effort to get rid of me.”

  “It would seem our memories of that situation are somewhat different.” Clayton’s soft voice was cool and calm, totally at odds with his aura. “There was no exchange of money—dowries went out with the Dark Ages—and there was certainly no rape.”

  “Only because you were goddamn stopped—”

  “If you didn’t want my attentions, you should have spoken up.”

  “And how was I supposed to do that when—”

  “Enough,” Lawrence commanded again. He picked himself up off the floor and then stepped out of immediate reach—it was a small retreat, but it nevertheless gave me immense satisfaction. “Before we go any further, I’ll ask you all to turn off your phones and place them on the table. This conversation is one I’d prefer to keep between us.”

  I snorted. “Gee, I wonder why?”

  “Your sarcasm will not improve this situation.”

  “Newsflash, Father dearest—I don’t fucking care. You were dead to me the minute you forced me into marriage with the rapist here.”

  “Again, that was not the case. Phones, gentlemen?”

  His continued denial made me wonder if he suspected the conversation was being recorded from a source other than our phones. He didn’t appear to have any sort of radio frequency detector to hand, and I couldn’t hear anything to suggest a sound jammer of s
ome kind was being employed. Which didn’t mean it wasn’t. They’d been in the café for who knows how long and had had time to do anything.

  “We’ll lay ours down only if you two do the same,” Ashworth said.

  My father’s gaze moved past me. “And who might you be?”

  “These fine gentlemen,” Monty replied before Ashworth or anyone else could, “are our witnesses. They might also be magical backup if you two start getting antsy.”

  Clayton’s lip curled, but once again, he held back from commenting. Which was so far beyond the norm for him it made me wonder how my father had managed to leash him.

  I took out my phone, turned it off, and placed it on the table. One by one the others repeated the process; my father and Clayton were the last to do so.

  “Right,” I said. “What are the two of you doing here?”

  “You’re my fucking wi—”

  “Clayton, enough,” Lawrence snapped.

  His voice had lost little of its usual power despite the handkerchief now shoved up his nostrils in an effort to stem the bleeding. It had to be hurting his mashed nose, but I couldn’t for the life of me feel a spark of sympathy.

  Clayton took a deep breath, and the viciousness once more melted from his features, but not his aura. While it was beginning to seem like my father had come here to sort out the mess he’d made, Clayton definitely had not.

  He wanted revenge.

  Not just on me, but on Belle.

  The only reason he was even here in the café with my father was the spell she’d placed on him, I realized. After all, he couldn’t finish what he’d started all those years ago if he couldn’t actually get it up.

  Which is a damn good reason for me not to lift the spell, Belle said. He won’t keep any deal made—that much is pretty obvious.

  I agree, but let’s concentrate on one thing at a time.

  “The situation cannot be allowed to stand as it is,” my father said. “It’s affecting the future of you both—”

  “There’s only one way this situation is going to fucking end.” Anger made my voice vibrate. The red rage remained close to the surface, and I couldn’t be sorry about it. It kept me from giving in to the fear and the memories that still burned deep down. “And that’s for the marriage to be annulled.”