Broken Bonds by Keri Arthur
Chapter Seven
Panic surged, lending my feet wings as I raced for the safety of the road’s edge. The twin beam of lights shifted abruptly, and I looked up. The car had slewed sideways and was now beginning a slow spin. The driver’s face was a white blur, but I nevertheless recognized it.
Monty.
Fighting for control.
Failing.
He was going to hit me …
I swore and leapt high in a desperate attempt to vault the oncoming car’s nose. The jump was higher and longer than anything I’d ever done before, and was no doubt fueled not only by fear but also the changes the inner wild magic continued to make on my body. As I reached the arc of the leap and began to drop toward the ground, the car slid underneath me and continued to spin down the road. Relief surged, but it was short-lived; I landed hard and awkwardly, stumbling forward several steps before crashing onto my hands and knees.
That’s when I felt it—a sphere of darkness, heading straight at me. I flung up a hand and quickly raised a shielding spell. It flared through the rain-swept night, a thick round net that not only caught the sphere, but also sent it flying back.
A scream that was fury and surprise combined rent the air, then the force of her presence moved away once more.
I swore and scrambled upright. Heard a shout and looked around to see Monty running toward me. His car sat half on, half off the road several houses down, the engine off but headlights on, shining brightness into the front windows of the nearby house.
“You okay?” His face was ghost white. “I could have fucking—”
“Monty,” I cut in fiercely, “she’s close. Did you get the tracker going?”
He nodded and pulled out what looked to be a baseball-sized mass of inert threads. He made a motion with his hand, quickly activating the spell, and then tossed it into the air. It hovered for an instant, slowly turning around, and then shot forward. A tiny thread no thicker than fine cotton unspooled behind it, a shimmering guide for us to follow.
We ran into the construction site. The rain was now so fierce, rivers of water sluiced down the driveway, making the already muddy ground unstable, forcing us to slow down or end up facedown in the muck.
We slogged up the hill, past five of the half-built apartments and then around to the left, toward the small Portaloo and site office. The trail led us over to the fence that divided the construction site from the house behind it. Monty leapt up, swung one leg over the fence, then yelped and threw himself back, landing awkwardly.
I grabbed his arm, steadying him. “Why the hell—”
I stopped. Deep, fierce growls now filled the night, and the fence shuddered under a barrage of weighty assaults. “Is that dog as large as it sounds?”
“Larger.” Monty pulled away from my grip and gave me a nod of thanks. “We’ll have to try the next house and hope there’s not another psycho dog in that one.”
I nodded and took the lead, warily leaping onto the fence that led into the neighboring yard, then whistling softly. Psycho dog immediately shifted position and tried to get through the fence between his property and this one, but no other dog responded.
Of course, he or she could just be lying in wait.
I wove a gentle repelling spell around my fingers, just in case, then threw a leg over the fence and leapt down.
Still nothing other than psycho dog.
Monty jumped down beside me, hissing slightly. “Hurt my ankle, it seems.”
“Bad?”
“Nope. This way.”
He moved forward. Though I suspected he was trying not to limp, his pain was obvious.
We moved around the side of the house, through a gate, and then up the drive. The tracker thread pulsed briefly, as if in response to Monty’s reappearance.
As he hurried on after it, I said, “Has the tracker got a distance limit?”
“It’ll spool out for about a kilometer,” Monty said. “It’ll stop after that and wait for me to catch up or recall it.”
“And it’s currently still spooling?”
He nodded and glanced around at me. “If you’re about to suggest you run on without me, forget it. I’d rather lose the bitch than you.”
“Well, obviously, but—”
I stopped abruptly. Darkness crawled my skin, and the night came alive.
It wasn’t the weather. It was magic. Dark magic, coming straight at us.
This time, there was no time to shield. It was too fast, too close. I leapt at Monty, knocking him sideways and down. We hit the ground in a tangled mess of arms and legs, him on the bottom, me half on top. As he cursed and struggled to get back up, I growled, “Stay down.”
He instantly stilled. I punched upwards with a clenched fist and called to the wild magic. So many strands responded, it briefly appeared as if the moon itself flew toward us. The thick ball gathered around my fist and then fell curtain-like across the two of us, covering us in a sheet of luminous power.
And not a moment too soon.
The sphere of dark magic hit the curtain and then spread out like a disease, covering the glowing threads with darkness. The force of the blow ricocheted through my body, and my arm briefly buckled, dragging the shield and the magic it was struggling to contain so close to my face that I could smell its foulness and taste the bitter rot of its creator.
And yet the sphere hadn’t been designed to kill. It had been designed to stop.
More luminous threads of wild magic spun into the curtain, strengthening it, bolstering it. Bolstering me. I straightened my arm and forced the foul magic away from my face.
Then Monty’s magic surged, attacking the dark spell, unravelling its threads and muting its force. Within seconds, there was nothing left but a few broken threads that the wild magic burned away.
I sucked in a deep breath and released the protective curtain. The luminous threads of wild magic disentangled themselves and moved away, undeterred and unaffected by the fierceness of the storm. I couldn’t help but wish I was similarly unaffected, because right now, it felt like every bit of me was wet, cold, and aching.
I rolled away from Monty and sat up, my gaze sweeping the night, looking for the tracker’s cotton-fine guide thread.
It was no longer visible.
Monty pushed into a sitting position with a deep groan. “Thank you for the save, but fuck, can you give me a little warning next time?”
“If evil ever bothers to give me a warning, next time I will.”
I pushed upright, then winced as pain shot through my head. It felt as if there were dozens of tiny people inside my head gleefully shoving red-hot needles into my brain. I blinked back tears, offered Monty a hand, and quickly hauled him upright.
He swore, his face screwing up in pain. “Damn it, I really did damage my ankle when I fell off that fence.”
“The ankle will heal. What about the tracker spell?”
“I do love all the cousinly concern you’re showing.” His gaze narrowed as he scanned the night. After a few seconds, he grimaced. “It lost momentum when we were attacked. It’s hovering just beyond the kilometer limit.”
“Meaning she’s well past that?”
He nodded, raised his left hand, and made a “come here” motion. “At least we know the tracker works. If worse comes to worst, Tala or one of her team can drive me around the reservation tomorrow. You never know, we might get lucky.”
“I think we both know how likely that is on this reservation.”
“Yes, but it’s still worth a shot. Miracles aren’t exactly unknown in the place, either.” The tracking sphere thudded into his hand. He tucked it into his coat and then added, “Can we take the long way back to the car? I don’t think my ankle is up to climbing any more fences.”
By the time we returned to his car, he was limping badly and the thick scent of sweat and pain swirled through the storm. He opened the door and then paused and glanced at me. “Do you want a lift back to Aiden’s?”
“We’re not at Aiden’s. Our spirit’s target was another single man in a nearby rental.”
“Then I’ll—”
“Do nothing more than get into your car and drive to the emergency department,” I said. “You need that ankle checked out.”
“But—”
“Argue, and I’ll send Belle after you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But I expect a full update on everything that happened before I got here over afternoon tea tomorrow.” He paused, his expression lighting up. “Isn’t it scone day tomorrow?”
“Yes, and yes, Belle will save you some if you happen to be out tracking rather than lounging around the café come afternoon teatime. Now go.”
I stepped back out of his way. He slammed the car door closed, then drove off. After scrubbing a hand across my forehead and wishing the idiots in my head would just give it a rest, I trudged back to Mal’s place.
Aiden met me at the door, a towel in one hand and a hot chocolate in the other.
“Oh, I think I love you.” I wrapped my hands around the mug and took a drink. It wouldn’t do a whole lot to stop the tiny idiots in my head, but at least my fingers would thaw.
He smiled, but there was an odd light in his eyes, one that seemed almost wistful. “They do say the way to a woman’s heart is through the provision of chocolate.”
“And they would be right.” Shame he wasn’t really interested in said heart because it didn’t come in the body of a wolf. I took another sip, then handed him back the mug and took the towel, drying my hair as best I could. “How’s our victim?”
“Still unconscious. I’ve called an ambulance, just to be safe.” He glanced at his watch. “They’ll be here in ten if you want to head back home and grab a shower to warm up.”
I shook my head. “I’ll stay, just in case the bitch decides to circle back.”
“Then at least get out of those wet clothes and go warm up near the fire. You’re shivering so badly I can hear your knees knocking.”
“You just want to get me naked.”
“Always.” He smiled, put the mug down, and then tugged off his sweater. “But in this case, I’d rather not keep you that way. The glory that is your body is mine, and only mine, to behold.”
“I thought werewolves were exhibitionists?”
“In a pack situation, yes. Anywhere else? Not so much.”
He handed me the woolen sweater. I walked across to the fire, boosted it with another log, then stripped off and laid my wet clothes in a soggy line across the hearth. The heat coming from the fire was fierce enough that they almost instantly began to steam. I couldn’t help but wish I’d warm up that quickly. It felt like there was ice running through my veins and, despite Aiden’s sweater, the shivering was growing.
He offered me the hot chocolate again. “I take it Monty’s tracker didn’t work?”
I took a drink then placed the mug down on the hearth and lifted his sweater to expose my butt and legs to the fire’s heat. “It did, but it’s limited distance-wise.”
“And Monty? Where’s he?”
“I sent him to the hospital. He sprained his ankle.”
“That’ll put a dampener on his movements.”
I snorted. “We’re talking about a man who chased a soucouyant through a forest on crutches.”
“True enough.” He glanced around at the faint sound of an approaching siren. “I’ll go wave them in.”
I’d started to thaw out a little by the time the paramedics walked in and followed Aiden up the stairs. I sipped my hot chocolate and listened to the soft conversation coming from the bathroom. The paramedics weren’t able to get an intelligible answer from our drunk, so they simply did the full check of vitals and decided—given the amount of alcohol he’d consumed—that the best option was to take him to the hospital.
Once he was loaded into the back of the ambulance and whisked away, Aiden came back inside and asked, “Will he be safe at the hospital? Or will the spirit go after him there as well?”
“Given she kills during sex, he’ll probably be safe, but I’ll send Monty a text. Once his ankle has been checked, he can go place a protection spell on him or something.”
Aiden nodded and pulled a long coat from the hook near the door. “You’d better borrow this. It’s still bucketing down outside.”
I banked the fire, dumped the empty mug into the sink, and then quickly pulled on the coat. Aiden scooped up my wet clothes and, with one hand cupping my elbow, guided me back through the stormy darkness to his place.
It was way past five in the morning and far too late to go back to bed, given I had to be at the café by six-thirty, so we made a “proper” breakfast of bacon and eggs on toast and then both got dressed. He dropped me at the café and then went to the hospital. Whether he intended to visit Mal or not, he didn’t say, but I suspected he would. He might have taken leave from his ranger duties, but I doubted he could ever let Tala completely take over.
The back door slammed as Belle arrived half an hour later. “How’s Monty?” I called out.
“A minor sprain, though you’d think otherwise given the way he’s carrying on. Men really do have no tolerance for pain. You want a coffee?”
“Always. And I’ll bet you twenty he’s playing up the injury to garner your sympathy.”
She laughed. “Got it in one. Unfortunately, he picked the wrong woman for that sort of thing.”
“Oh, I’m sure he knows that. And I’m just as sure that when it comes to hunting down our skeleton spirit, it won’t in any way stop him.”
She laughed again and started making our coffees. “He’s already arranged to have Maggie ferry him and the tracker around.”
Maggie was the receptionist and a ranger-in-training. As such, she got all the shittier jobs. “Has he forgotten it’s scone day?”
“No, he has not, and I’m under strict orders to save him some. So of course, I won’t. Best to set the obedience bar low at the very beginning of any relationship.”
“I think the only expectation Monty has when it comes to you is the fact you will eventually come around to seeing him as the catch he is.”
She snorted. “So my mother keeps telling me. I ignore her as easily as I ignore you when it comes to comments like that.”
Ignoring was a step up from denying. “Did he manage to visit last night’s potential victim?”
“Yes. And he made the man a protection charm and warned him not to take it off unless he wanted to die.”
“Was Mal sober enough to take him seriously?”
“Maybe. He did make some damn comment about it being better to die than to live without his heart for the rest of his life.”
“Meaning she broke up with him?”
“Apparently he was a bit of a bludger.”
“If she was the one who did the leaving, why would our hone-onna be going after him?”
“Who knows?” Belle walked into the kitchen with two coffee mugs and carefully slid mine across the kitchen’s counter. “Maybe cheating men are actually rare in this reservation.”
“I’d like to think that’s true, but let’s face it, it won’t be.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a rather cutting statement.”
“But nevertheless true, if the recent article they did in the Castle Rock Truth is anything to go by.”
Belle snorted. “And the Truth is so well known for its factual reporting of said truth.”
I grinned. “Well, yes, but in a reservation this large, there’d have to be more than three men who have strayed and subsequently suffered the breakup of their relationship.”
“On that, we can agree.” She leaned a hip against the counter. “How did last night go? Aside from being woken at an ungodly hour by our skeletal spirit, that is.”
I grimaced. “As well as you might expect.”
“So he didn’t talk about Mia at all?”
“As little as possible, and then we got sidetracked by sex.”
“Deliberately?”
“Yes.” I drank some coffee. “He will talk to her. Eventually. He has to.”
“Well, he actually doesn’t.”
I half smiled. “If he wants to move on with his life, he does.”
“That man does not want to move on. He’s rather content in the place he is right now.”
“So he’s said, several times, but we all know that won’t last.”
Belle sighed. “Sadly, no.”
I ignored the wash of sadness and picked up my knife again. At least if the tears started to roll, I could blame the damn onions. “I take it you’ve warned Monty not to go after the hone-onna alone if he does happen to find her location?”
“Indeed I did.”
“You think he’ll actually listen?”
“Given I threatened a weeklong sexual drought if he didn’t, I believe he will.”
I laughed, and the conversation moved on to the more mundane business of café running. Last night’s storm had continued unabated, so we didn’t get many customers in during the morning, and the lunch hour “rush” consisted of ten people. The place was absolutely empty when the bell over the door chimed and Ashworth walked in.
He glanced around in surprise and then said, his Scottish brogue particularly heavy, “Has that alpha werewolf bitch chased all your customers away? Because I’m more than happy to throw a curse or two her way in retaliation if you’d like.”
I laughed, walked over, and gave him a hug. I might not be able to confide in or even trust my own father, but Ashworth—and his partner, Eli—had quickly stepped into that breach. I really couldn’t imagine my life without them now.
“It’s the rain rather than the bitch, but I appreciate the offer. Would you like afternoon tea? We’ve a fresh batch of scones going to waste, and we’ve recently found a supplier who does clotted cream. Your opinion on whether it’s worth the expense would be appreciated.”
“Always willing to give an opinion, but you’d better make it tea for two. Eli is just parking the car.”
I turned, tucked my arm through his, and escorted him over to their usual table. “Is this just a social visit? Or business?”
“A bit of both, actually.”
“I’m not sure whether to be intrigued or concerned. Do you want coffee or tea today?”
“It’s a coffee sort of day, I’m thinking.”
“Then let me go grab everything, and I’ll be right back.”
Belle was already making their coffees, so I headed into the kitchen to plate up the freshly made scones, a couple of pots of jam, and the clotted cream.
When everything was on a couple of trays, we both headed over. Eli walked in just as we were placing everything on the table. He was almost the total opposite to Ashworth in looks; the latter was short and bald, with muddy silver eyes and very craggy features, whereas Eli was a tall, well-built, and very handsome man in his late sixties. His thick salt-and-pepper hair was neatly cut, and his eyes were bright blue.
He dropped a kiss on my cheek, gave Belle a quick hug, and then dragged out a chair and sat down beside Ashworth. “You’re spoiling us today—is there any particular reason?”
Belle sat down opposite him. “A desire for them not to end up in the bin.”
“Well, in that case,” Ashworth said, “you can wrap any unwanted ones up and we’ll pop them in the freezer for a rainy day. I dare say there’ll be plenty more of them over the next week or two.”
“If we only get a week or two of this shittiness, I’ll be ecstatic.” I picked up a scone, cut it in half, and slathered it with jam and cream. “So, let’s start with the business reason you’re here.”
“Heard on the grapevine we have a hone-onna in the reservation.” Ashworth sliced open a scone and loaded it up. “Is she magic capable?”
I nodded. “She’s attacked me a couple of times now.”
Eli grimaced. “They do tend to go after the strongest witch in any zone they hunt in and, if the wild magic is taken into consideration, you’re certainly that these days.”
After years of being considered an underpowered, somewhat useless witch by my parents, it was still a little difficult to accept the opposite was now true. That I was, in fact, more powerful than Monty, Eli, and Ashworth, even if I didn’t have the knowledge and skill to back it up. “Any idea why it would be hunting here?”
“No, and it’s extremely rare for them to be in a place so sparsely populated.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it was simply moving through and caught the scent of betrayal.”
“Or it could have been brought here by either a curse or a summoning,” Ashworth added. “The latter is extremely rare, because they’re hard spirits to summon, but it does happen.”
I frowned. “Why on earth would anyone willingly call such a creature into being?”
“Anger and grief often override sane thinking,” Eli said.
“A comment that would surely only apply to the very fragile of mind,” Belle said.
“You’d be surprised, lass.” Ashworth bit into his scone, and his expression dissolved into one of sheer bliss. “These are utterly divine. As is the cream.”
“Have either of you come across one of them before?” Belle asked.
Eli nodded. “When I was younger, and up in Canberra.”
There was something in the way he said “Canberra” that had my radar pinging. “Is Canberra the other reason you’re both here today?”
“Yes,” Ashworth said, “but let’s concentrate on one thing at a time.”
“Would that be eating the scones?” I said, watching in amusement as he all but inhaled the one he was holding and then reached for another.
“I am one of those rare multitalented male specimens,” he said. “I can talk and eat at the same time.”
“It’s a true gift,” Eli said, voice dry. “Just make sure you’re not sitting opposite him when the conversation gets animated.”
Belle immediately shifted her chair sideways. Ashworth scowled at her, though there was a twinkle in his eyes. “The spray zone isn’t that bad, lass.”
Eli raised an eyebrow but didn’t otherwise dispute the statement.
“So why do hone-onnas go after the witch in their hunting area?” Belle asked. “Wouldn’t it be more sensible to avoid us all?”
“And the younger ones generally do,” Ashworth said. “But the older spirits who are capable of magic like to test their skills against those of the living.”
“And the stronger the witch, the better,” Eli added. “It’s a means of relieving the boredom of their existence, is the common theory behind the practice.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Surely they wouldn’t be able to take down a highly skilled royal witch.”
“That one in Canberra killed five high councilors before she was taken down,” Eli said.
“And in the end, it wasn’t the RWA or even the council’s investigators who caught her,” Ashworth added, “but rather the Black Lantern crew.”
“Why would they have been involved?” I asked. “They track human criminals rather than supernatural, don’t they?”
“As a general rule, yes,” Ashworth said. “But the hone-onna responsible for the kills used black magic to entrap her prey. It was initially thought the deaths could have been the work of a dark sorcerer.”
“That still doesn’t explain why the Society was called in when the high council have their own investigation team.”
“They do but, as I said, no one was sure what they were dealing with, so the council decided to employ all possible avenues of tracking the killer down.”
“I would have thought the state she left her victims in would have clarified what you were dealing with,” Belle said.
Eli glanced at her. “Many dark sorcerers gain power or favors from demons in return for a sacrifice, and not all of those demons require payment in the form of blood. There are many who prefer the energy of life, and it results in a corpse similar to that of the hone-onna’s victims.”
“The problem here,” I said, “is the fact that I’m beginning to think that only one of the two attempts on me was meant to kill.”
“Two?” Eli said. “I thought there were three attacks?”
“I don’t believe the bomb spell was aimed at me. I think it was simply meant to erase any evidence of her presence.”
“If that is true, then why hasn’t she set them at the subsequent murders?” Belle asked.
“Maybe because we’re now aware of her presence and there’s little point.” I shrugged and took a drink. “Something has definitely changed since she pushed the SUV down the canyon, though, because her spell last night was designed to stop rather than kill.”
“Which wouldn’t be all that surprising if she’s come to the conclusion that you’re the more powerful witch,” Ashworth said. “Hone-onna are extremely intelligent—perhaps she has decided that caution is the best course forward.”
“I’m not finding that statement overly comforting,” Belle commented, voice dry.
Neither was I, even if instinct continued to insist she didn’t actually want me dead. Mainly because I had a vague feeling there was a “yet” attached to it somewhere. “If a hone-onna is capable of killing high councilors, what hope have we got of capturing and killing one?”
“This one might not be as powerful as that one,” Ashworth said.
“Given the encounters I’ve already had with her, she’s right up there on the scale.”
Eli grimaced. “That certainly cuts down our options.”
“Monty believes it’s a simple matter of finding her, trapping her, and then killing her as you would any old vampire,” Belle said.
“Monty’s still a little wet behind the ears when it comes to monster hunting,” Ashworth said, amusement evident. “But he is right about the method of killing one.”
“But if she is one of the old and powerful ones,” Eli said, “then the only reason any of us would find her is if she wants to be found.”
Alarm briefly crossed Belle’s face. “Monty’s gone out with a tracker spell attuned to her magic in an attempt to find her. Should we call him back?”
“Even if she does reveal her location to him, he should be safe enough. The lad may be green, but he’s not stupid, even if he sometimes does play the fool.” Ashworth paused, the amusement in his expression growing. “Don’t tell him I said that, though. Don’t want him thinking I’m mellowing.”
Belle smiled. “Your secret is safe with us.”
“Excellent.” He picked up a third scone. “As are these, by the way.”
“You won’t be eating dinner at this rate,” I said, amused.
Eli snorted. “A mountain of scones would never get between Ira and his dinner.”
I laughed and took a drink. “How are we going to get rid of her if her magic is strong enough to conceal her presence from any of us?”
Eli hesitated. “There’re three options, two of which would be far safer than the third.”
“My vote’s for the safe options,” I said. “What are they?”
“If we are simply dealing with a curse, we find the person responsible and get her to recant it.”
My eyebrows rose. “Do hone-onnas always answer the call of a curse?”
“It does depend on the situation, but the hone-onna are particularly attracted to curses placed on those who stray. That’s why many believe they are the spirits of women who were similarly wronged.”
“That is nonsense, of course,” Ashworth said, “but such beliefs are often hard to counter with facts.”
“If it is a curse, then the ex of the first victim is the most likely person to have placed it,” Belle said. “The rangers would have her contact details.”
“What if she’s not responsible for placing the curse? Or even a summoning?” I asked.
“We lure her out with a juicy morsel, naturally.”
“Me being the morsel, no doubt.”
Ashworth nodded, but before he could reply, Belle said, “That doesn’t sound like a sensible plan to me.”
“And it’s one that will depend on whether she actually still wants me dead,” I commented. “As I’ve said, her actions last night suggest that might not be the case.”
He grimaced. “Yes, but it has more chance of success than the third option.”
“Which is?” I asked.
“If we are dealing with a summoning, we find the witch and get her to recant.”
“The trouble being,” Eli added, “that we’re not sure it is a summoning, and no witch walking that edge would ever willingly admit—”
“We don’t need them to,” Belle said. “I’ll just read her mind.”
A smile tugged at Eli’s lips. “Witches who summon dark spirits are very rarely without protections—be it magical or physical.”
“So that leaves us where, exactly?” I asked.
“We’d need proof that the hone-onna was summoned here, and to get that we’d have to capture her and trace the leash back.”
“Leash?”
“Any witch dealing with dark spirits would be well aware of the need to protect themselves from the creatures they summon. A leash is a means of preventing said spirits murdering them.”
“If it does come down to an entrapment scenario and it does succeed,” Belle asked, “how do we restrain the hone-onna, given she’s magic capable and likely able to counter any spell we cast?”
“Anyone with enough power and knowledge can counter one spell. But spells combined? Unlikely,” Ashworth said.
“‘Unlikely’ is one of those words that can’t be trusted in this reservation,” I commented.
Ashworth smiled. “Eli and I have both successfully countered this beastie—or ones similar to her—before. We’ll be fine.”
“And if we’re not, I will come back to haunt you,” Belle said.
Ashworth laughed. “I can think of worse prospects, lass.”
“I’ll ring Tala this afternoon, then, and see if she can arrange a meeting with the first victim’s ex.”
“Tala?” Ashworth’s eyebrows rose. “Why not Aiden?”
“Because he’s at the hospital with his brother and has handed control of the case over to her.”
“Seriously?” Eli said in astonishment. “The alpha wolf has actually handed over control to someone else?”
I smiled. “In theory. I’m betting he’s still keeping tabs on things.”
“That’s a bet none who know the man would ever take.” Ashworth studied me for a second, his expression contemplative. I had a feeling he was seeing what few others would. “Everything okay with you two?”
I forced a smile. “Yes. But you know how it is with werewolves and their packs.”
“Indeed,” he said softly. “If you ever need to talk, we’re here. Remember that.”
I nodded and briefly glanced down at my coffee, desperately trying to control the sting of tears. “What was the personal stuff you came here to discuss?”
“Nice, if rather obvious, change of direction there, but I’ll let it ride for now,” he said. “My sister spelled several documents to me this morning. They concerned your father.”
My pulse briefly stuttered and then leapt into a higher gear. His sister was none other than Sophie Kang, the Matriarch of the Black Lantern Society. “Let me guess—the case against him has been dropped.”
“Quite the opposite, I’m afraid.” Ashworth pulled a crisp white envelope from his pocket. An old-fashioned hot wax seal had been used to close it, rather than the regular sticky strips. He placed it on the table and slid it across to me. “That’s a subpoena requesting your presence at the trial in a month’s time.”