Getting Familiar with Your Demon: That Old Black Magic, Book 4 (18 page)

“You mean like the one on me?”

“Yes.” Cass scratched her head. “Someone put a lot of work into ensuring your information is under lock and key.”

“But who could do something like that? And why?”

Cass remained quiet for a long stretch. “You said your father died before you were born. Do you know much about him?”

It took several beats for Marabella to catch on to Cass’s train of thought. “You think my father has something to do with this?”

“Remember I mentioned those threads I searched on your mom’s soulprint? Well, theoretically speaking, there should have been ones that led to your father that in essence formed a connected link. They weren’t there. Or…they were severed.”

“Severed? Can that be done?”

“Yes, by someone who has a great deal of skill. And a higher power on their side.”

She blinked, unable to follow Cass’s meaning. “Huh?”

“There are certain forces in this world that you could consider supreme beings. For instance, you’ve referred to your goddess a time or two since we first met.”

“Gaia. For many witches, she’s looked upon as being the mother of us all.”

Cass nodded. “I’m familiar with her. My brother Dominick was married to a dryad. The tree nymphs revered Gaia as their creator, as do a lot of the other earth spirits.”

Finally the fog lifted from Marabella’s brain. “By higher power, you mean deities.”

“Mm-hmm.” Cass’s gaze turned thoughtful as she rubbed her thumb across her bottom lip. “The more I think about it, it would take a being with that kind of power to authorize the level of cover up we’re dealing with here. Whoever your dad was, he had some real major connections.”

“But he was just a banker my mom met in England while she was studying abroad. I’m pretty sure the biggest connection he had was with Lloyd’s of London.” Marabella wrinkled her nose. “And I’m fairly certain they can’t be considered a deity.”

“You do realize some people aren’t entirely honest when it comes to their personal histories, right?”

“Are you implying my dad lied to my mom about who he was?”

Cass gave a noncommittal hum that spoke volumes. Slightly sick to her stomach at the prospect that her father had duped her mom for some unknown and possibly nefarious reason, Marabella started up the car and pulled out of the lot. She swallowed past the lump of uncertainty in her throat. No, she refused to believe her dad had been a dishonest man. Sure, she’d never met him, per se, but the little she’d gleaned about him the few times Domino got tipsy and sentimental enough to talk about him, there’d been genuine affection there. And then there were the exquisitely romantic love letters she’d found hidden in the bottom drawer of the French armoire in her mom’s bedroom. She’d found them by accident when she was ten years old and playing dress up with the sitter while her mom was busy at some Alliance function. Feeling the need to defend him, she recounted that fact to Cass.

Rather than look ashamed for the assumptions she’d made, Cass’s expression turned excited. “Wait, you have actual handwritten letters from him?”

“Well,
I
don’t. But my mom does.”

Cass pumped her fist. “Yes.”

Marabella tore her gaze from the road just long enough to peer at Cass. “Uh, want to clue me in here?”

They approached a red light and Cass swiveled in her seat to face Marabella. “There might be enough traces of DNA left on the letters to help me establish a link to your father. Odds are I’ll still run into a block, but it’s worth a try.”

“But the letters are at my mom’s house. I don’t even live there anymore.”

Cass’s smile turned cajoling. “Look at it this way. You’re her daughter. Technically, it wouldn’t be considered breaking and entering.”

Marabella groaned. “Are you sure you’re only half demon? Because it seems to me your shady, dishonest side is shining through right now.”

Cass grinned. “Yeah, guess I’m going to have to work on that too.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, Marabella was fumbling with her purse and silently reminding herself that she wasn’t really breaking and entering if she was using a key.

“Ah-ha. Got it.” Her fingers shaking from excitement and jittery nerves, she wiggled the key into the deadbolt and turned it. The lock released with an audible click, and she pushed the door open. She stepped into the marbled entry and flicked on the overhead chandelier.

A low whistle issued from Cass. “Nice digs.”

“Thanks. My mom has always taken great pride in this place.” Marabella had too, at one time, before coming to the conclusion that if she didn’t move out, she’d grow into a tired spinster who’d forever live under her mother’s shadow.

She glanced around at the opulent furnishings—most of them antiques passed down through the many generations of Blanchards. More than likely, one day she’d be inheriting all this stuff. That thought immediately made her uncomfortable, because that would mean her mom wouldn’t be around. Crazy as Domino drove her, she loved her mom, and the notion of having no real family left was depressing as hell.

Refusing to dwell on such heavy thoughts, she headed toward the circular stairway. “My mom’s bedroom is on the second floor.”

The scuff of Cass’s loafers on the Persian runner announced she was obediently following. They reached the top landing, and Marabella led the way to the spacious master suite in the far wing of the house. Feeling like she was ten all over again and sneaking into her mom’s room when she wasn’t supposed to be in there, she cracked open the door and peeked inside.

Cass cleared her throat softly. “You, uh, do realize your mom is back at the Alliance headquarters. Unless she flew over on her broom, there’s no way she could have beaten us here.”

Marabella’s lips twitched. “My mom would be
so
insulted by that. But it is funny to picture.” She pointed to the massive French armoire in the corner of the room. “The letters are in the bottom drawer.”

Cass glanced at the unit before returning her gaze to Marabella. “Is that your way of saying you want me to grab them?”

“It’d make me feel less guilty about this whole breaking-and-entering business.”

Grinning good-naturedly, Cass crossed to the armoire and tugged open the heavy pocket doors. She stooped and wrestled with the bottom drawer.

“Sorry, sometimes it sticks.”

Cass shot Marabella a shrewd look over her shoulder. “Why do I get the impression you’ve snuck in here more than once?”

Marabella blushed. “Okay, I might have done it a couple of times when I was a kid.” She hadn’t been able to help herself. The lure of those letters was too hard to resist. Considering they were her only real connection to her dad, she didn’t feel too guilty for the endless hours she’d spent covertly reading them. Fortunately there hadn’t been anything too intimate in them that would have led to her needing years of therapy after imagining her parents engaged in kinky sex. Though to be honest, she couldn’t picture her mom having sex in the first place. Shaking off that horrific thought, she strode to Cass’s side. “Here, I’ll give you a hand.”

With some elbow grease from them both, they managed to pry the drawer open. Marabella sat back on her haunches and let Cass do the dirty work of actually pawing through Domino’s old nylons in order to reach the box of letters resting underneath. Unable to resist, she reached for one of the balled nylons and unraveled it. “Would you think I was weird if I admitted to wearing these on my head one time and pretending I was Princess Leia?”

“Yes,” Cass answered without hesitation.

“Yeah, you really do need to work on that blunt thing,” Marabella grumbled and pitched the nylons back into the drawer.

Cass settled the small cedar box between them and flipped open the hinged lid. Dry and faded rose petals surrounded the small stack of yellowed stationery. Despite their age, the flowers still carried a sweet perfume.

Cass picked up the topmost letter and carefully unfolded it. “
My dearest Domino…my every waking thought consists of you. These past few days we’ve been apart have been the hardest I’ve ever had to bear. Knowing the weekend is fast approaching and I’ll have you in my arms again sustains me. Until then, know my heart resides within your hands.
” Cass stopped and swallowed. “Wow, that
is
romantic. I can’t imagine anyone writing this kind of stuff to me.”

Marabella’s mind immediately circled to Sam, and she gave a silent sigh. “Me either.”

As if she’d read Marabella’s mind, Cass squeezed her hand. “Sam might not have a silver tongue, but then the majority of guys don’t. Heck, they can’t all be like…” She glanced at the signature scrawled on the bottom of the letter. “Sascha Blanchard. Unfortunately. But then again, your dad was from a different generation, where romance and courtliness weren’t an oddity for men.”

“Well, you’re right about one part of that.”

One corner of Cass’s mouth curved upward. “Only one? But that’d mean I got something wrong.” She chuckled. “And I so hate to be wrong about anything.”

“I’m sure my dad did come from a generation of charmers, but his last name wasn’t Blanchard. My parents were never married. No doubt that’s why his family hasn’t wanted anything to do with my mom and me all these years.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed…”

She took in Cass’s flustered look and shook her head. “It’s okay. I probably would have jumped to the same conclusion. Regardless, it doesn’t bother me that I was born out of wedlock. Though sometimes I think it does my mom. I’m pretty sure that’s why she gave me her last name rather than his. Much easier to explain why I’m Marabella Blanchard rather than Marabella Bahltair.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s—” Cass’s words back-piled into each other as her eyes slowly widened. “Wait…did you just say
Bahltair
?”

Marabella nodded, and the letter plummeted from Cass’s lax fingertips. Cass stared at her for a long, drawn-out moment before her breath exploded from her in a pent-up rush. “Holy. Shit.”

Chapter Seventeen

If there was one activity Sam couldn’t stand, it was sitting around twiddling his thumbs. Particularly since everywhere he looked, he was surrounded by Marabella’s things. Like he needed a constant barrage of enticement. If he didn’t get out of her apartment—and soon—he was going to do something embarrassing, like sniff her shampoo, or devil forbid, watch one of her chick flicks.

He stalked to the cordless phone in the kitchen and dialed Nikki’s cell phone. “Do you have that damn teleport bracelet?”

“Well good morning to you too, sunshine.”

He growled beneath his breath. “Do you have it or not?”

“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

No, more like he woke up in the wrong bed entirely. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he paced in front of the counter. With each passing second, his obsession with Marabella was digging deeper into his skin. She was making him feel things he damn well didn’t want to. It was messing with his head. Big time. Before her, he’d lived by the creed that when push came to shove, he looked out for his own ass. Screw everyone else. But for the past few days, he’d gone against his own motto. First with going after Nikki, and then protecting both of his cousins from Pricilla’s vengeance. Now Marabella was the number-one priority on his list.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Earth to Sam. You still there?”

“Yeah, but not for long. Get your ass over here.” Before the words finished leaving his mouth, Nikki materialized in front of him.

She slid him a cocky grin. “What, you missed me already?”

He grunted. “No, I miss my car. How about you pop us over there so we can take a spin and check up on Pris’s goons.”

Nikki gave him an assessing look. “You just want to see if it’s still in one piece.”

“Damn straight.”

“Oh ye of little faith.” Clucking her tongue, she gripped his wrist and initiated the transport. In less time than it took him to grind his teeth, they arrived inside his garage. He flicked on the overhead light and hunkered next to the GTO, inspecting every inch for dings or scratches. Satisfied she was still in pristine shape, he ran his palm lovingly over her hood.

“Jeez, would you two like to get a room?”

Ignoring Nikki’s sarcasm, he yanked open the driver’s side door and climbed in. “You comin’ or not?”

“Duh, of course. Let me go grab the cuffs first.” Nikki rushed inside the house. Less than five seconds later, she was back. She scurried to the other side of the car and hopped in like she’d been convinced he’d take off without her. She might have been right.

He grabbed the key off the dash and started up the engine, the familiar rumbling purr an instant stress reliever. A click of the remote and the garage door rolled toward the ceiling. Once it was locked in place, he stepped on the gas and cruised down the driveway. Another click of the remote and he was ready to rock and roll. “Where are those fuckheads parked?”

Nikki pointed to the left, and he turned in that direction. Sure enough, a block down, a black SUV was parked at the curb. He slowed the car and shot the bird to the pair of goons slouched in the vehicle before roaring down the street.

“Subtle.” Nikki snorted.

A quick glance in the rearview mirror verified that he’d indeed gotten the thugs’ attention, and they were now tailing at a discreet distance. Idiots honestly thought they were pulling a fast one on him. “I’m kinda hungry. How about you?”

“Like you even need to ask.” Nikki draped her arm on the window ledge. “I hear the new Chinese place over by Lafayette is good.”

“It’s nine thirty in the morning. Probably won’t be open.”

“Damn. And here I had a hankering for Kung Pao chicken. Although, I could also go for an artery-clogging omelet.”

“You’re in luck. There’s a good greasy spoon over on Liberty.”

“You mean The Chow Barn?” Nikki’s eyes glazed over like she was seconds away from experiencing the rapture. “Ooh yeah, that place is awesome.” She abruptly snapped out of her trance and stared at him. “Whoa, do you realize we actually were having a conversation that didn’t involve thinly veiled death threats or yelling?”