Belle clattered down the stairs midway through the breakfast rush. “Why the hell didn’t you wake—” She stopped and studied me through narrowed eyes. “Why do you look like utter crap?”
“I didn’t get much sleep last night. It’s nothing serious.”
In truth, I hadn’t gotten any. It had been close to six by the time I’d finished cleaning up the spell stuff and sprayed the room so that it didn’t smell like burned hair, and I’d figured it was pointless going to sleep for less than an hour. I’d come down, made myself breakfast and several coffees strong enough to stand a spoon in, and then started the day’s prep work.
“When you say things like that, I know it’s time to worry.” She hesitated, her face paling slightly. “You’ve done something—something you’re desperately trying to hide from me.”
Meaning, for whatever reason, she wasn’t immediately aware of the spell’s presence, which was something of a relief. How long that would last, I had no idea, as the strength of our connection made it difficult to keep secrets long-term. She’d kill me if she ever did discover the risk I’d taken to protect her.
I quickly piped cream onto the apple pie I’d plated up and pushed it across the counter for Penny to collect and deliver. “I placed a protection spell on you last night, that’s all.”
She frowned. “You did? Then why can’t I feel it?”
“Because it’s embedded, just like the spell we lifted from Clayton.”
“No protection spell we know can do that.”
“This was one I found in your gran’s books. I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t think we’d ever use it.”
Her confusion deepened. “Why ever not?”
“Because it called for an item close to the recipient’s heart to be sacrificed.”
Her eyes went wide. “Not Miguel’s letters…?”
“Only one—and I took a picture of it before I burned it.” I caught her hand and added softly, “I’m really, really sorry, but believe me when I say it was utterly necessary.”
“I do. It’s just…” She stopped and blinked rapidly.
“I know.” I squeezed her hand and then released her. “But if Clayton attempts to rape you, the spell should prevent it.”
She absorbed this in silence for a few seconds. “And what about you?”
My smile felt thin—humorless. “I have the wild magic.”
“Which won’t help if you’re unconscious.”
I shrugged again. “It’s acted before to protect me without direction. There’s a good chance it’ll do so again.”
“The problem with that theory is that Clayton now knows you can use it. It’s more than possible he’s researching means of circumventing it even as we speak.”
“If Ashworth and Monty are having trouble uncovering information about wild magic, I don’t think Clayton will have much more success.”
“Except for the fact he has a hell of a lot more contacts.”
“I’m thinking positively here. Don’t spoil the illusion.”
She snorted softly. “Delusion, more likely.”
“Whatever works.”
She shook her head, then nudged me to one side. “You’re making a goddamn mess of that cappuccino. I’ll take over—you do the cakes.”
I smiled, switched positions with her, and fervently hoped the matter of the spell was now forgotten.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Once we’d closed and cleaned up, I called Aiden.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he said. “I was just about to ring you.”