Yvette's Haven
Page 49
Kimberly shrugged. “Sure. If it helps.”
Yvette ignored Haven, who still stood motionless in the middle of the room and went around him. Let him think on what she’d told him. Besides, she didn’t need his help right now. She could still taste his blood and would have no trouble comparing it to Kimberly’s and Wesley’s.
When she reached the girl, Wesley pushed in front of her. “Me first.”
Yvette raised an eyebrow. How had the pup suddenly gotten so eager? Her questioning look seemed to prompt a response.
“If you hurt me, I won’t let you touch Kimberly.”
Perfect, another man who wanted to rescue the damsel in distress. This was getting increasingly tiring. “Fine.”
Sixteen “I’ve never scried for a vampire before,” Francine claimed in response to Gabriel’s question.
Zane looked at the woman—no, make that witch. Fuck how he despised them. They were devious and not to be trusted. He’d yet to meet a witch who fought fair. All they did was use their potions and spells to trick people and overpower them. But Francine, the witch who’d helped both Amaury and Gabriel on previous occasions, had become somewhat of a hanger-on to their group. None of his colleagues seemed to mind her presence, but Zane’s nostrils stung with the sickly sweet smell of witchcraft, and he avoided her whenever he could.
Outwardly, Francine looked entirely normal, even human, as she sat there on Samson’s sofa, a large tote bag slung loosely over her shoulder, her hand clutching it as if she didn’t trust them not to rip whatever treasures she had in there from her grasp. As if anybody wanted to touch her witchy trinkets. It was better to stay away from things he knew he had no defenses against.
“Try it anyway,” Gabriel now instructed. “It can’t hurt.” After a short pause he added, “Can it?”
Francine shook her head. “Of course not. All I’m doing is trying to find her location, but I need something that will help me find her. Something that belongs to her.”
“Like a piece of clothing?” Gabriel asked.
“Or some hair?” Zane interrupted, drawing Francine’s gaze onto him. Her eyes skidded over him, almost as if she couldn’t stand looking at him. The dislike was clearly mutual.
“The hair should work.”
Zane stood and went to retrieve the bag with Yvette’s hair from the kitchen. Maybe it would come in handy after all and it hadn’t been a complete waste of time to bring it. By the time he returned to the living room, Francine had spread a map of San Francisco over the coffee table.
He handed her the bag, careful not to touch her in the process. The last thing he wanted was a witch’s stench on him.
Francine peered into the bag. “Is that all Yvette’s?”
“Yes.” Zane kept his conversation with her to a minimum. There was no need to make small talk with a witch.
“Do I want to know why there’s so much of it?” Francine looked away from him and glanced at Gabriel. But before his boss had a chance the reply, Zane interrupted.
“No. Get on with it.”
Gabriel’s reprimanding glare barely registered as Zane concentrated on watching the witch’s movement. It was never a good idea to leave an enemy out of his sight.
Francine took a strand of Yvette’s dark hair and pressed it against a crystal, then used a string to tie the two items together, leaving the string longer on one end so the crystal’s weight hung heavily on one end of it. It looked almost like a mason’s plumb line.
She adjusted in her seat, moving forward on the couch to bend over the map. Her arm stretched out, holding the string with the crystal and Yvette’s hair. Then she started swinging it in a slow circle while she chanted softly.
Zane honed in on the words, but they were gibberish to him. For all he knew, the woman could be turning them into toads while they were sitting around like a captive audience. How Gabriel could trust a woman like her, he couldn’t understand. No witch could be trusted.
Tense minutes passed as the crystal swung wildly over the entire map of San Francisco, yet it didn’t descend onto any specific place. When Francine looked up from her task and gave a shrug, Zane already knew the answer.
“Sorry, but I can’t find her.”
Zane rose, his frustration forcing him to move, to expend physical energy. He paced.
“It was worth a try,” Gabriel said, his voice just as disappointed as Zane felt.
“It’s probably got something to do with the fact that she’s a vampire. Their auras are different. I don’t think the crystal can pick it up. Look at the positive side: at least I’ll never be able to find you guys if you don’t want to be found,” she joked.
Yvette ignored Haven, who still stood motionless in the middle of the room and went around him. Let him think on what she’d told him. Besides, she didn’t need his help right now. She could still taste his blood and would have no trouble comparing it to Kimberly’s and Wesley’s.
When she reached the girl, Wesley pushed in front of her. “Me first.”
Yvette raised an eyebrow. How had the pup suddenly gotten so eager? Her questioning look seemed to prompt a response.
“If you hurt me, I won’t let you touch Kimberly.”
Perfect, another man who wanted to rescue the damsel in distress. This was getting increasingly tiring. “Fine.”
Sixteen “I’ve never scried for a vampire before,” Francine claimed in response to Gabriel’s question.
Zane looked at the woman—no, make that witch. Fuck how he despised them. They were devious and not to be trusted. He’d yet to meet a witch who fought fair. All they did was use their potions and spells to trick people and overpower them. But Francine, the witch who’d helped both Amaury and Gabriel on previous occasions, had become somewhat of a hanger-on to their group. None of his colleagues seemed to mind her presence, but Zane’s nostrils stung with the sickly sweet smell of witchcraft, and he avoided her whenever he could.
Outwardly, Francine looked entirely normal, even human, as she sat there on Samson’s sofa, a large tote bag slung loosely over her shoulder, her hand clutching it as if she didn’t trust them not to rip whatever treasures she had in there from her grasp. As if anybody wanted to touch her witchy trinkets. It was better to stay away from things he knew he had no defenses against.
“Try it anyway,” Gabriel now instructed. “It can’t hurt.” After a short pause he added, “Can it?”
Francine shook her head. “Of course not. All I’m doing is trying to find her location, but I need something that will help me find her. Something that belongs to her.”
“Like a piece of clothing?” Gabriel asked.
“Or some hair?” Zane interrupted, drawing Francine’s gaze onto him. Her eyes skidded over him, almost as if she couldn’t stand looking at him. The dislike was clearly mutual.
“The hair should work.”
Zane stood and went to retrieve the bag with Yvette’s hair from the kitchen. Maybe it would come in handy after all and it hadn’t been a complete waste of time to bring it. By the time he returned to the living room, Francine had spread a map of San Francisco over the coffee table.
He handed her the bag, careful not to touch her in the process. The last thing he wanted was a witch’s stench on him.
Francine peered into the bag. “Is that all Yvette’s?”
“Yes.” Zane kept his conversation with her to a minimum. There was no need to make small talk with a witch.
“Do I want to know why there’s so much of it?” Francine looked away from him and glanced at Gabriel. But before his boss had a chance the reply, Zane interrupted.
“No. Get on with it.”
Gabriel’s reprimanding glare barely registered as Zane concentrated on watching the witch’s movement. It was never a good idea to leave an enemy out of his sight.
Francine took a strand of Yvette’s dark hair and pressed it against a crystal, then used a string to tie the two items together, leaving the string longer on one end so the crystal’s weight hung heavily on one end of it. It looked almost like a mason’s plumb line.
She adjusted in her seat, moving forward on the couch to bend over the map. Her arm stretched out, holding the string with the crystal and Yvette’s hair. Then she started swinging it in a slow circle while she chanted softly.
Zane honed in on the words, but they were gibberish to him. For all he knew, the woman could be turning them into toads while they were sitting around like a captive audience. How Gabriel could trust a woman like her, he couldn’t understand. No witch could be trusted.
Tense minutes passed as the crystal swung wildly over the entire map of San Francisco, yet it didn’t descend onto any specific place. When Francine looked up from her task and gave a shrug, Zane already knew the answer.
“Sorry, but I can’t find her.”
Zane rose, his frustration forcing him to move, to expend physical energy. He paced.
“It was worth a try,” Gabriel said, his voice just as disappointed as Zane felt.
“It’s probably got something to do with the fact that she’s a vampire. Their auras are different. I don’t think the crystal can pick it up. Look at the positive side: at least I’ll never be able to find you guys if you don’t want to be found,” she joked.
