In order to figure out how no one had recognized her while she’d been beguiling Stefan, he’d had Jack show him pictures of her when she wasn’t all glossy and polished for Stefan’s liking. Now she looked more like herself. She’d changed her hair back to its natural color, a strawberry blond, and wore a pair of faded jeans, a black knit top and a pair of scuffed black boots.

Normally she wasn’t this gaunt. Thomas suspected she’d purposely lost weight in order to insinuate herself into Stefan’s world. Or perhaps grief had shaved some pounds off her. In his opinion, she looked better with a little more weight on her.

Her hair was long and glossy, framing an oval face with porcelain skin and large brown eyes. Her mouth was full, expressive. She wore nearly no makeup and did little to her hair beyond brush it. She had a natural type of beauty that required little embellishment and seemed to care nothing for fashion. Yet she possessed a manner that screamed self-confidence.

Not only was she gorgeous, she looked innocent. Yet Thomas knew better. Miss Isabelle Novak had a reputation for trouble. The research he’d done on her had revealed that right away. From even her earliest days in grade school, Isabelle had left a trail of trouble behind her—getting into fights, talking back to teachers. Her older years revealed a passionate, impulsive woman who couldn’t stay in one place, couldn’t hold a steady job, couldn’t form relationships.

She was also a strong water witch. Thomas could sense the strength in her from across the room. Ripples of volatile emotion, the ebb and flow of psychic power—they were the hallmarks of the water witch and they were impressively palpable in Isabelle Novak.

He closed the door and spoke as he turned toward her. “Violence is an easy way to mourn someone you’ve lost. Don’t you think it’s better to save a life in order to honor a life lost?”

She stood, pressed her hands together, and bowed. “Buddha, I’m pleasured to make your acquaintance.” She straightened and put a hand to her hip. “I didn’t come here for a lecture.”

She was pretty. Too bad she was such a pain in the ass.

Thomas squelched his annoyance and walked toward her. “You need to look at the big picture. He can help us—”

“Help us? When does that man start helping anyone but himself? When does he do anything that’s not in his own best interests? And when does he pay for his crimes, Mr. Monahan? When?”

“Call me Thomas.”

“Mr. Monahan, Thomas, whatever.” She waved her hand, dismissing his overture. “Are we going to wait for Stefan to die of old age, then? Should we let him get away with everything he’s done?”

“Of course not.”