“Everything I do is for love.” Emotion threaded Stefan’s voice. He raised his gaze to hers. His eyes were a pretty, clear blue—the same eyes she’d seen gazing out from magazine covers all her life as she stood in line at the grocery store. “Everything I do is for my father, to make him proud of me. He might be gone, but I still believe he watches over me.” Stefan paused and looked distant. “He would want me to avenge him.”

Bai was staring hard at her. It was making her hands clammy.

Moistening her lips and placing a look of concern on her face, Sarafina leaned toward Stefan. “I’m sure that William Crane could not be any more proud of you.”

He took another sip of his drink. “I miss him.”

“I’m sure you do.” She glanced up at Bai, who stood still as a Greek statue by Stefan’s chair. “I can understand your loss, since I recently lost my foster mother.”

He nodded. “Then you understand that even though I told Mira that I forgave her for killing my father, I may still have to make her pay.”

The cold threat in his words made her body stiffen and her breath catch in her throat. She wasn’t sure what to say in response.

“En fait, my father killed Mira’s parents in a demon circle, so I could see why she would want to retaliate.”

“Yes.” She scowled at him. “Wasn’t your father trying to kill Mira in another demon circle when she shot him out the window? It was self-defense, wasn’t it?”

Stefan gestured with his glass. “Yes, there was that, too. At any rate, I forgave Mira for killing my father. I forgave Isabelle for her sins against me as well.”

The plane took off, tipping her backward. She grabbed the armrests, having disdained the seat belts. Bai still stood, not moving a muscle. Nothing seemed able to budge him.

She’d like to try a flamethrower.

Stefan ran a finger around the rim of his glass. “But I may have to go back on my word.”

That last sentence was murmured in a quiet voice that reminded her of a serial killer. His words were spoken in a way that made brutal, disgusting images of slain animals slick through her mind.

Stefan wanted Isabelle and Mira dead—and in a gruesome way.

Again, she found herself at a loss for a response. What could she say to that?

Sarafina swallowed hard during the intervening silence, knowing he expected her to say something. This could even be some kind of a test to see how she reacted.

She chose her words carefully when she could finally speak again. “They’re both powerful witches and both protected by Thomas Monahan. Mira is his cousin and Isabelle is his wife. How do you propose to get to them?”