“Right,” she agreed.
“The other thing you should remember,” he said deliberately, “is that the hot, sweaty sex came after we made our deal.”
She blinked twice, watching him cautiously through her dark lashes.
“So?” she said, her voice laced with subtle challenge.
“I didn’t go to bed with you in order to get you to cooperate. You had already agreed to help me because there was something in it for you. I went to bed with you because I wanted to have hot, sweaty sex with you. I was under the impression that you wanted to have hot, sweaty sex with me. Was I wrong?”
“No,” she said, cornered and defiant. “You’re not wrong. The hot, sweaty sex had nothing to do with our business arrangement.”
He kissed her quickly, before she could pull away.
“Glad we got that settled,” he said.
She stepped back, opened the door and moved out into the hall.
“But the more I think about it,” she said, speaking over her shoulder as she walked toward the stairs, “the more I agree with the old advice on the subject of mixing business with pleasure. It’s never a good idea.”
“Shows how much you know,” he said softly.
She pretended she hadn’t heard him and went down the stairs. But he knew she’d heard every word.
Sixteen
The witch hunter let himself into the room with the electronic lock pick. There was no real security at the Shelbyville B and B. No need for any. Until today the town had enjoyed a reputation for an almost imperceptible crime rate. It was one of the reasons he had chosen Shelbyville as home base for his most recent round of witch hunts.
The first time he saw the remote, tree-shrouded Tallentyre house at the end of the long, lonely lane he knew it was perfect for his purposes. It had belonged to a genuine witch. It was only fitting that it be used to destroy others of her kind. He had spent months making certain that it was safe for him to use. It had taken several more weeks to select the first witch to be punished in it. Now all his work had been wasted.
Like aunt, like niece. Clearly Raine Tallentyre had inherited her aunt’s dark powers. She, too, was a witch, the most powerful one he had yet encountered.
Rage poured through him, swamping every other sensation. In the blink of an eye the Tallentyre witch had ruined everything he had worked so hard to establish in Shelbyville. Now he would be forced to find a new location for his work.
But first he had to learn more about what he was up against. Raine Tallentyre was a threat he had never anticipated. She had to be destroyed but he must move cautiously. She was clearly very dangerous.
Fortunately, the girl he had put in the storage locker never saw his face. He always wore a ski mask when he went about his work. But the very fact that she had been found before her punishment was complete had jolted him badly. He assured himself again that she would not be able to tell the cops anything that would lead them to him. Nevertheless, for the first time in his career as a witch hunter, he was very worried. In the past he had always been able to count on the purifying effects of fire to destroy all the evidence.
After a long, sleepless night, however, he had finally understood. This was a test set by the demon.
He comprehended that his work would no longer be as easy as it had been in the past. He was moving to a new level of power and he would be hunting more powerful witches. He must be ready.
It was clear that Raine Tallentyre’s arrival in Shelbyville and her discovery of the captured witch was no accident. If he wanted to survive and grow stronger, he would have to prove to the demon that he was more powerful than Raine. He would have to hunt her and destroy her, just as he had hunted and destroyed all the lesser witches he had punished.
He stood quietly, looking around the small space. It had been a risk coming here today before the room had been cleaned but he needed something personal, an object that she would recognize when he began to hunt her. It was important that a witch knew fear before he came for her. He had discovered that satisfaction early on in his work. He sometimes spent weeks and months stalking them in order to make them afraid.
He prowled the room, searching for what he needed. He considered one of the pillowcases for a moment and then rejected it. He wanted something more interesting.
There was a damp washcloth on the towel rack in the bathroom, but it was a very ordinary white washcloth. There was nothing distinctive about it. She might not even recognize it. That wouldn’t do.
He hurried out of the bathroom. His eyes fell on the tea tray.
He reached down and picked up the delicately painted cup.
Perfect.
Later that afternoon he discovered to his horror just how much progress Langdon and the detectives from Portland and Seattle were making on the case. At the post office there were rumors of DNA and hair samples and even his precious photos. The stupid girl was remembering all sorts of things, things that could come back to haunt him.
Panic and rage roared through him. This was all the fault of the Tallentyre witch. He picked up the teacup and hurled it at the wall. The fragile china shattered.
Shaking, he went down on one knee to pick up the pieces.
Burn, witch…
Seventeen
“I can’t believe you’re working on a case with someone from Jones & Jones,” Andrew said. He opened the oven door to check the paella.
“It’s not like I had much choice,” Raine said. “Not after he told me how that Arcane Society researcher showed up here in Oriana the same day that Aunt Vella died.”
The kitchen had been remodeled recently. It gleamed with the latest in high-tech appliances. The old countertops had been replaced with green granite and the cabinet doors were fitted with sparkling glass fronts.
No amount of superficial change could alter the feeling Raine got whenever she walked into the room. This was home. Although, growing up, she and Vella had lived across the street, the truth was that she had spent most of her time here, wrapping herself in the security and warmth that Andrew and Gordon provided. She had done her homework and learned to bake cookies in this kitchen.
She and Zack had arrived in Oriana a few hours before. The invitation to dinner had come as soon as she called Gordon to tell him what was going on.
“Bring him over for dinner tonight,” Gordon said.
“But you two are busy packing for that travel convention,” she reminded him. “You have to leave for the airport at five in the morning. You don’t want to entertain us tonight.”
“If you think we’re leaving town without checking out your Mr. Jones, think again.”