“Dante Jackson Emmett Anderson, what do you think is so funny?”
Wheezing and gasping for breath, I excused myself to the kitchenette, where I dissolved into silent laughter.
“He’s even worse than at Gerald’s. What do they have him on?”
“The entire pharmacy, I think,” my father replied, his tone amused. “It’s okay, Dante. You can laugh in our faces, we don’t mind. It’s far preferable to your restless sulking.”
“Who are you and what have you done with our father?” Elliot demanded.
“Elliot,” my mother warned.
“What? It’s true. He doesn’t get along with Dante. It’s fact. You... you’re being all companionable. It’s unnerving. Stop it. When Dad called, saying he was babysitting Dante, I thought there’d be bodies.”
Vicky chuckled. “He’s telling the truth. That’s why he asked me to come along.”
“You?” my father asked, narrowing his eyes at the Fenerec. I came back into the sitting room in time for Vicky to open her trench coat, revealing a holstered handgun. “Okay, point taken, Miss Vicky.”
“Great. There’s now two armed and very dangerous women in my life,” I grumbled, perching on the edge of the armchair. “One was bad enough.”
“Do you mean Amber or Evelyn?” Vicky replied with a smirk.
“Three. Ah, wait. Make that five. If Nicole isn’t carrying, I’ll be shocked. Considering Gerald’s occupation, I bet Maggie knows how to shoot too, even if she doesn’t carry.” Scratching my forehead, I considered my mother. “You don’t carry, do you, Mother?”
“I don’t need a gun to be dangerous,” she informed me.
“Six.”
My brother chuckled. “What about Beth and Ruth?”
“They are only dangerous to my wallet at Christmas and on their birthdays.” Waving my fist at my brother, I settled back into my chair, leaning back so I could stretch my legs. “And anyway, he’s off the hook for now, Elliot. He made Evelyn happy.”
While I still had to get payback for him overstepping his bounds with the rings, I couldn’t deny how much they had made Evelyn smile, or her excitement over her new phone and the pair of watches. I still hadn’t had a chance to look over the memory stick or the journal, but if Evelyn wasn’t keeping those items secured, I had no doubts Richard was.
“It seems your brother can be reasonable at times, Elliot.” My father shook his head and chuckled. “He only started getting uppity today, seeing as I won’t give him my cell so he can acquire Evelyn’s phone number. I could practically see the wheels turning as he tried to figure out if he was up for fighting me for it.”
I grimaced. “You noticed?”
“You aren’t well versed in the art of subtlety when heavily medicated. That, plus you were mumbling,” my father informed me.
Turning my attention to my twin, I narrowed my eyes. “Elliot, do you have Evelyn’s phone number?”
“I do, but I’m not giving it to you.”
Vicky held her hands up. “I do too, but I’m under strict orders not to give it to you as well.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair to those who get shot,” my twin snapped. “Suffer. She’s busy.”
I shut my mouth with a clack of my teeth. All of my doubts resurfaced and smothered me. What was she doing, that she couldn’t—wouldn’t—talk with me? Why was everyone so determined to keep me from talking with her? Had I, in my need to act, gone too far? Had she decided to leave me as Suzanne had done?
I didn’t want to believe it, but if she had, I deserved it, and that hurt most of all.
Chapter Twenty-Four
My restlessness drove me out of bed a little before dawn. Dressing in a t-shirt and jeans, I grabbed the room key and my wallet, left a note saying I was taking a walk, and wandered down to the hotel lobby. Yonge Street proved lively for the early hour, reminding me a bit of New York. Wandering the streets alone probably wasn’t wise, but I let my feet carry me where they would.
Several blocks away, I found an old cathedral. The place had an ancient feel to it, its copper roof long since corroded to green, its Gothic architecture fashionable several hundred years ago. The last time I had been in a church, it had been to marry Suzanne, at her request.
Maybe she had wanted absolution from her sin of being a witch. Maybe she had hoped the preacher would recognize us for what we were, burning us at the stake for the crime of our existence. All things considered, I could easily believe it.
If she had hated witchcraft so much, if she had loathed me so much as to steal our daughter, why had she married me in the first place? There would never be answers to my questions.
Suzanne was dead, and with the destruction of the blood diamond, the dead no longer spoke to me.
Behind the cathedral was a park, and I sat on one of the benches to keep the deceased company. The lingering spirits lacked intelligence, leaving behind only their names as a memento of their lives. There were too many of them to count. From the few glimpses I did catch, the spirits were old, from long before Toronto had been a city.
My curiosity got the better of me, and I got up to stroll down one of the paths leading deeper into the trees skirting the cathedral.
One of the ghosts, much like those trapped within the blood diamond, lingered. I felt his regard as a tingling on the back of my neck. Shivering, I sat on one of the nearby benches.
His name was John, and in life, I had no doubts he would have thrown me to the wolves for my witchcraft.
In death, he regarded me with wary consideration. When I acknowledged him with a murmured greeting, he ignored me, although the sense of his presence remained.
He made pleasant albeit judgmental company as the sun rose over the cathedral. As the city woke, I stood to resume my walk and came face to face with a gray-haired gentleman wearing a suit and a bishop’s collar.
“Good morning, my child,” he said, nodding to me with a companionable smile.
“Good morning,” I echoed, wondering how the priest would react if he found out I was a witch. Would he, like John, choose to ignore me so long as I didn’t defile sacred ground? I checked my watch. It was just after six in the morning. “I didn’t think the cathedral was open so early.”
The man’s smile widened. “It’s not, my child. The cathedral opens in an hour and a half. I enjoy early walks, when the city is still quiet—well, as quiet as it gets.”
I chuckled, nodding my agreement. “Enjoy your walk, sir,” I said, dipping my head in a polite nod.
Before I could make my escape, he lifted his hand. “A moment of your time, if you don’t mind?”
I froze, meeting his gaze. What could a Catholic priest want with
me
? Part of me wanted to walk away and leave the church, but my curiosity got the better of me. “What do you need, sir?”
“Walk with me.” Instead of heading to the park as I expected, the bishop turned in the direction of the street. I fell in step with him. “Please forgive me for being so forward, but it’s unusual to see a witch visiting a cathedral.”
I stumbled, and the bishop caught my elbow to steady me. I swallowed, gawking at him. He smiled at me while I floundered.
“How did you know?” I whispered. Even Fenerec had a hard time detecting my witchcraft from my scent.
“Call it intuition. I apologize for surprising you. Don’t worry, my child. While others of my faith may dislike your kind, it is not the circumstances of one’s birth that is important, but the choices made in one’s life. Your presence here surprised me, but the church is open to all—even witches. You’re not the first troubled soul to find their way to the steps of this cathedral.”
Troubled was one way to put it. Between my worries about Evelyn, what had happened in Montreal, and losing Jacqueline as a result of my pride and desire for revenge, I was amazed I hadn’t crumbled to pieces. “I’ve seen better days,” I admitted.
“I imagine you have. Do you like coffee?”
“Absolutely,” I replied, relieved at the change of subject.
“There’s a cafe a couple of blocks from here. Care to join me for a cup?”
“Sure.” After consideration, I added, “I’m Jackson.”
“Anthony. I’m pleased to meet you. It’s rare to meet someone like you who doesn’t make a very hasty run for it when they see my collar.” There was a hint of good humor in the way he looked at me, eliciting a chuckle out of me. When I didn’t speak, he clasped his hands in front of him, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. “What brings you to the cathedral?”
“Serendipity.”
“It never ceases to amaze me how often it works out that way.”
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Do you always invite witches for coffee?”
He laughed. “Not often. You remind me of someone.”
“He’s in a hotel a couple of blocks from here,” I replied, pointing in the direction of Yonge street. “I can introduce you, if you’d like.”
Anthony arched a brow at me. “I did not say who you reminded me of.”
Whether I reminded him of my brother or father or uncle didn’t matter; since my uncle was dead, I suspected it was my brother. Who else would have current ties with the Catholic Church? I grinned at him. “Call it intuition.”
“Let’s make a friendly wager, then,” the bishop replied, grinning at me.
“Isn’t gambling against the tenants of your faith?” I replied, staring at Anthony’s collar. “First you cohort with a witch, now you’re making bets? They’ll draw and quarter you at the rate you’re going.”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “Alas, we’ve outgrown drawing and quartering as a punishment for crimes and sin. We’ve also outlawed torching witches at the stake, so we’re both safe.”
“Small miracles,” I muttered. “What’s your wager?”
“If you introduce me to the one you remind me of, I will give you a full tour of the cathedral personally. I’ll even show you some of the restricted areas.”
“I’m sure that’s committing some form of blasphemy, welcoming a witch onto sacred ground.” I chuckled, shaking my head. “All right. I accept your wager, but understand I will be checking you for weapons before I let you anywhere near him.”
Anthony stared at me, his mouth hanging open. “Why do you think I would have a weapon?”
“Paranoia.”
“I assure you, I am unarmed. Murder is a sin, my child. I have no intentions of bringing any harm to anyone.”
“Then you won’t mind me double checking,” I pointed out.
He held his hands up in surrender. “Very well. I accept your terms. If you do introduce me to the one I think you resemble, I will be very surprised.”
“I have that sort of luck,” I said. “I do hope you’ll tell me who I remind you of, if it isn’t who I think it is.”
“Of course. I hope you do not mind my curiosity, but how long have you been a witch?”
“Since I was five,” I replied, shrugging. “How long have you been a bishop?”
“It’ll be five years come September.”
The cafe proved to be a small place tucked away down a side street. The cashier greeted the bishop with a smile, watching me with open curiosity. I paid, grinning at Anthony as I did so. We sat in an out of the way corner which offered the illusion of privacy.
“Quiet place,” I said, sipping at my coffee.
“It’s owned by the daughter of one of the congregation. Nice girl. It’s always quiet on weekdays. It’s always busy before Mass, though.” Anthony glanced at the door behind me, his eyebrows rising. “Perhaps I should give you your last rites now.”
I took another sip of my coffee, wondering who had managed to track me down. “There’s someone behind me, isn’t there?”
“I’m afraid so, my child.” Anthony coughed and sipped at his coffee.
Maybe if I didn’t turn around, the person would give up and leave. I settled in to wait. “I’m not here.”
A slender pair of arms slipped around my neck to wrap around me. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” Evelyn murmured in my ear.
I closed my eyes and the tension flowed out of my muscles. I leaned back, drawing a deep breath. The scent of cinnamon teased my nose. My worries dissolved one by one, leaving me feeling both tired and relieved. “Coffee.”
“So I see. Why aren’t you at the hotel in bed where you belong? Won’t you introduce me to your new friend?”
Anthony stood. “I’m Bishop Carlisle.”
“Evelyn,” she replied, reaching out to clasp his hand. “I hope he hasn’t been a bother.”
“I’m afraid it’s the other way around, ma’am. It is I who bothered him.”
“You got waylaid by a bishop?” Evelyn clucked her tongue at me. Pulling away from me, she pulled out her cell and pressed a button, holding it to her ear. When someone answered, she said, “He’s a few blocks from the hotel having coffee with a priest.” Shaking her head and laughing, she hung up.
“In my defense, I left a note,” I grumbled. “I can go on a walk on my own, I assure you.”
“You have a terrible track record of taking care of yourself,” my Fenerec pointed out, poking my nose with a finger before dragging over a chair and sitting down with us. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“You’re not. How did you find me?”
Evelyn huffed. “Magic.”
I wrinkled my nose at her.
Anthony stared at Evelyn with a puzzled expression before whispering, “You’re not a witch. What are you?”
Sucking in a breath and widening her eyes, Evelyn gawked at the bishop. “What?”
“Consider it professional interest,” I said, reaching out to brush my fingers against Evelyn’s elbow before taking her hand. “She’s my mate.”
My proclamation earned me a smile, which soothed me as none of my family’s reassurances had. She was with me. It wouldn’t change what had happened, but it was enough to let me hide away my grief and pain for a little while longer.
Later, when we were alone and had time to talk, I’d tell her everything.
“Mate?” Anthony frowned.
“She’s a Fenerec.”
“Fenerec?”
It was my turn to stare at him with wide eyes. “You know about witches but not Fenerec?”
“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Laughing, I took a sip of my coffee before replying, “This beautiful woman becomes an equally beautiful wolf during a full moon.”
“Ah, and you call yourself Fenerec?” Anthony inquired, his smile returning. “I apologize if I have been rude in any way. It seems a very unique individual has wandered across my path this morning. We have a different name for those like you, but I suspect you’d consider it rude.”