Magic Misled (Lizzie Grace #7) - Keri Arthur Page 0,1

had no idea what the true consequences of that would be, but I could feel the wild magic within even now. It was a river of white heat that pulsed through my body like blood.

“I have indeed heard everything the Society have in their possession,” Samuel said. “But I’d still like to hear it all again, this time in your own words rather than as a telepathic memory recording.”

“To repeat, why?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Because the High Witch Council wishes their own record of events.”

“So they can twist the facts to suit whatever decisions have already been made, no doubt.”

“You have a rather cynical view of the council.”

I snorted softly. “My parents are—or were—members of that council. I like to think my views are realistic.”

Another smile tugged at his lips. They were really lovely lips. “The sooner you comply with the request, the sooner I’ll be out of your way.”

Annoyance flickered through me, but I nevertheless gave him a rundown of everything that had happened during the final confrontation between Clayton and me, but once again omitting the part Katie and Gabe had played in it all. I’d rather be arrested than reveal the fact that not only was there a ghost guarding a second wellspring here in the reservation, but that ghost had bonded the soul of his werewolf wife to the wild magic itself. Her influence and power were now spreading across to the reservation’s main wellspring, but none of us knew what would happen if she gained full control over both—or indeed if that was even possible.

“You were aware of the vampire’s presence when you walked out of that house, were you not?” Samuel said.

It was interesting he didn’t actually name said vampire. I’d certainly made no attempt to hide Maelle’s part in all this. “Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you stop it?”

“For one, I didn’t have the physical or magical strength to fight a gnat let alone a very old and very powerful vampire. And two, why on earth would I? The bastard deserved exactly what he got.” My quick smile held little humor. “If I’d been present when he’d died, I would have danced with glee through his fucking remains.”

“Because of what he did to you the night of your marriage?”

“Because of what he did to Belle.”

He made a show of checking the file in front of him, though I doubted it was necessary. “That would be Isabelle Sarr?”

“Legally, her surname is Kent.”

And though Belle was seriously considering reverting back to her birth name, I never would. Between Clayton’s actions and my father’s, the thought of becoming a Marlowe again was vomit inducing.

“But Clayton didn’t only torture Belle,” I continued evenly, “he was responsible for the explosion at Émigré that killed eight people and injured dozens of others.”

“That connection has yet to be determined.”

I snorted again. “Because the council’s not actually trying all that hard to do so, are they? Let’s be honest here—Clayton would never have faced justice for what he did to me or Belle or anyone else. He was too powerful—and had far too many friends in high places—for the case to have ever reached the council’s court of justice.”

“That’s not actually true, given your father was one of his victims, but even so, you had no right to be judge and jury.”

I studied him for a second. “Have you got a familiar, Samuel?”

Surprise flitted briefly through his expression. I suspected it was the first “honest” one I’d seen.

“Please, call me Sam, and yes, I do. But I don’t see—”

“And you’re connected telepathically to your familiar?”

“Of course, but—”

“Then imagine a scenario where your familiar is being tortured, and every ounce of their pain and suffering echoes through you. How would you feel? How would you react? Would you sit back and wait for the law to show up? Or would you do everything in your power to free your familiar, even if that means sidestepping the law?”

His expression gave very little away. I wished I knew what he was thinking, but the damn man was wearing the latest electronic gadget that guarded against telepathic intrusion.

I could probably get past it, Belle said. She was hiding in the reading room—where we did the psychic portion of our business—to keep out of his sight. But it’d take more time and effort than is probably worthwhile at the moment. Besides, it’s not like he’s hiding all that much—not when it comes to those jeans or indeed the investigation.

A comment backed by the fact the file sitting wide