She found a long, loose hank of hair at her nape and pulled at it while she paced the kitchen. “Other than to share with me the glorious news of your continued existence in this world, did you have another reason for calling me this evening?”

“I wanted to say I forgive you.”

She stopped short and actually sputtered for three seconds. “F-forgive me? You forgive me? You—”

“Last year I lost the only father I ever had. I understand you lost your sister and so I have absolved you of your sin. I will not seek retribution.”

“Well.” What the hell? “Uh. That’s incredibly big of you, Stefan.” Her voice dripped sarcasm.

“This is the first and only free pass you will get from me.”

“Wow. I can hardly contain my gratitude.” She drew a breath, mastering her anger. “You know we’ll keep hunting you.”

She could hear the smile in his voice when he answered. “You can try, but I have become wary of beautiful redheads of late. You will not find it easy.”

“Nothing worth achieving ever is.”

Click.

Isabelle held the cordless phone in her hand and stared at it, cold dread inching its way up her spine. Stefan remained in this world while Thomas had been expelled from it. Was there no justice?

After a moment she replaced the handset and turned back to the counter. Damn it. Her tea was cold. She picked up the mug and set it near the sink, then leaned against the counter and closed her eyes. Lady, she wanted Thomas back. With every fiber in her body, with every breath she drew.

Impulsively, she grabbed her keys and left her apartment, letting the door slam shut behind her.

No way was she getting any sleep tonight anyway, and there was a stack of half-translated texts at the Coven just waiting for her.

CLAIRE ENTERED THE CELL, LETTING THE DOOR STAY open as long as she could without drawing suspicion because she knew the light made the earth witch, Thomas, content. On the bad days, on the days his body was wracked with fever, he said it made him think of a woman named Isabelle. He talked of her constantly when he was delirious.

Now, the delirium had passed. There weren’t any more bad days, either. Not real ones, anyway.

The door closed with a metallic thump and darkness closed around her tight as a fist. Water trickled in the far corner of the small, dank cell. The drip, drip, drip must drive the prisoners crazy.

The man, the first aeamon Claire had seen since the death of her mother, knelt on the floor, his arms strung out on either side of him by heavy chains, chains that were resistant to this one’s magick. His powerful body had been brought to heel as much as the Ytrayi could bring a witch such as this to heel.