Chapters (66)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- France / 1666
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Massachusetts / 1892
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- San Francisco / 1927
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Cleveland / 1938
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Edinburgh / 1962
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Epilogue
- About the Author
- Preview of Broken
- Also by Kelley Armstrong
- Praise for Kelley Armstrong
- Copyright
“Er, a pretty good one,” I said.
He kept looking at me.
“I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
A car door slammed. Savannah called something. I hesitated, but Lucas uncast the glamour spell, then opened the back door and shoved me inside.
I spent the first thirty minutes in Paige’s office browsing through the stuff on her computer. I wasn’t being nosy. I had nothing better to do. Okay, maybe I was being nosy…just a little. After a half hour, though, Lucas popped in to check on me and asked me, very politely, not to mess with Paige’s stuff, shutting down her e-mail and other windows, and leaving open only two—solitaire and some file that looked like programming stuff. If Savannah or the Nix came by accidentally, I could switch from the game to the work, and at least look busy. Not that I could actually do anything with the programming code. Lucas had locked it into a read-only file. Geez, you’d think the guy didn’t trust me or something.
That lack of trust kind of stung. Okay, not kind of. It did sting, almost as much as the distrust I’d gotten from Paige when I’d looked after her in the ghost world. Did I blame them for not trusting me? No. I’d earned it, if not by doing anything to them personally, at least through my reputation. And I guess if you count that broken arm I gave Lucas when he tried to take my grimoires, I had done something to them personally. But, still, I would have thought rescuing them from the ghost world would have counted for something. Maybe it did. If not for that, I suspected I’d be sitting in this chair, not with a game of solitaire thoughtfully set up for me, but tied down and awaiting an exorcist.
So I played solitaire and tried very, very hard not to hear my daughter’s voice downstairs, not to think about her down there, finally within reach—physically within reach, that I could go down there and hug her and tell her—But I wasn’t thinking about that.
Forty minutes passed, and the back door banged shut downstairs. I looked out the rear window, but no one stepped outside. I tugged open the window and listened. After a moment, I caught two voices: Lucas and Jaime.
I strained to hear what they were saying.
“…really a beautiful bike,” Jaime said. “And you restored it yourself. That is so amazing.”