Mary had been a mother, a grandmother, a sister, and a freaking retired kindergarten teacher, for the sake of the Lady. Brandon had been a son, a brother, and a devoted uncle. They each had had strong familial ties. Many people now grieved them. They each had left large holes in the world.

Isabelle closed her eyes. If she died few people would even notice. She wouldn’t leave a large hole, just a pinprick. These thoughts didn’t come from a place of self-loathing; they were simple facts.

In the face of that realization, her choice became sickeningly, stomach-lurchingly clear.

She closed her eyes for a moment and just concentrated on breathing—in through her nose and out her mouth. Breath by breath, moment by moment, that’s how she had to take this.

How long did she have until Boyle came for her?

Once her heartbeat returned to something resembling normal, she opened her eyes and surveyed the damage to Thomas’s office. The breeze that shouldn’t be there buffeted the papers that had been knocked off his desk. Alcohol soaked through files and made ink run. She hoped it was nothing too important.

She doubted anyone would have heard the ruckus. The library was far from the residential portion of the Coven and it was the middle of the night. The wards were set to register magickal disturbances, not swords thrown through windows.

Isabelle wondered how Boyle had gotten into the Coven, though she suspected she knew. Witch magick didn’t work on demons, so it went to follow that neither did wardings. The reason was moot; obviously, he’d gotten through. She would have the bruises on her throat to show for it, not to mention a lovely decision to make.

Not that it was much of a decision.

She wouldn’t go out without a fight, though. Already her mind worked through the possibilities. Maybe there was a way she could defeat Boyle, keep her life and that of the witch of the equivalent magickal consistency who would serve in her place. Maybe she could.

Or maybe not.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

FIFTEEN

THOMAS STOOD ON HIS SCATTERED, SOAKED PAPERWORK in the middle of his office, morning light shining through his shattered window, wondering what the hell had happened. It looked like a bomb had hit.

“Thomas?”

Isabelle appeared in the doorway, looking somehow pale and fragile. What the hell could make Isabelle look pale and fragile?

Alarmed, he walked toward her. “Are you all right? What happened in here? Fuck,” he breathed as he got closer and glimpsed the bruising around her throat. He took her by the shoulders. “Isabelle, what’s going on?”

“I’m fine.” Her voice, gravelly and tired-sounding, revealed the lie. “But we have a problem.”

“Just one?”

She smiled faintly. “I found out last night the demon can breach the Coven’s wards.”