Within the hour, she and her sour-faced vampire were told to wait on their ride. Despite how upset Luis was,shecouldn’t have been more relieved.
She didn’t want him to fight any more than he already had. Luis was already covered in bruises, stitched cuts, and had beenstabbed.The thought of waiting with his family while he hunted down that awful man made her stomach churn. As much as she disliked the idea of being sent into isolation with absolutely nothing to do, it was by far preferable to that.
Francesca had anticipated a car or perhaps a place to take them south to the beach property they were expected to hide away in. What she got was very muchnotthat.
Genevieve Carver, otherwise known as Ginny, was a small woman. A few inches shorter than Francesca, with long brown hair, a dusky complexion, and copious tattoos, she was undeniably beautiful and equally troubled.
She’d been called by Felix to Luis’s parents’ house, though Francesca hadn’t initially understood why. No one seemed inclined to stop and explain much of what was going on to her, but truthfully she didn’t need it. Her brain had been thoroughly overloaded by the drama and violence of the last few days. She doubted she could’ve handled much of anything more, even if it was only a passing introduction.
But it turned out to not be necessary, anyway. Genevieve’s role in the Amauri family became abundantly clear when every window and door in the front of the house rattled with an explosion of light and power — the result of a magical gate opening and closing suddenly on the stoop.
Genevieve was a gatekeeper. The most powerful caliber of witch who could tear open the fabric of time and space at will. Immensely valuable and vanishingly rare, a syndicate family having one on their payroll must’ve been an incredible advantage.
Things had been a whirlwind after Genevieve and her bodyguard’s entrance. Francesca had barely gotten a good look at the witch and her towering, furious-looking bodyguard before Luis was tying their wrists together again. She’d gone beet red when he did it in front of his whole family, who watched withtheir eyebrows raised, but he didn’t seem to care what they thought.
“You don’t leave my side,” he’d growled. “Even in an m-gate.”
Never had Francesca even dreamed she’d travel by m-gate. That was for witches and those few so privileged they could afford to pay them. She, like most arrants, used m-lev trains, jets, and cars to get around the continent.
It was exactly as awful as she’d believed it to be.
Going through an m-gate was a bit like being taken apart molecule by molecule, spat through a straw, and reassembled on the other side. She was a little shocked to find everything in its proper place when they materialized in the scrubby, coastal garden of a beach house.
Luis tugged her close. Setting their bags on the pebbled path, he took a moment to cup her cheeks. “Are you okay?”
Francesca blinked flickering lights out of her eyes and wiggled her toes to check that they were all present and accounted for. Somewhere not too far away, waves crashed on a darkened beach, and the scent of salt and green things gave the air the taste of life.
“Fine,” she mumbled. “Where are we?”
“Isabelle’s beach house,” Genevieve answered, nearly drawing a scream of surprise out of Francesca.
Craning her neck to look at the witch and her bodyguard, she said, “I didn’t realize you two were coming with us.”
“We’re not,” the witch replied. Her delicate brows were drawn tightly together, and there was an ashen quality to her warm skin. Despite the immense power that she carried within her, she looked terribly delicate beneath the layer of her baggy sweater.
The witch looked at Luis. “I want to talk to you.”
“You twoshouldstay here,” he argued. “This isn’t your fight, Ginny.”
“Agreed,” the bodyguard, who Francesca vaguely recalled as being introduced as Nash, grunted. As big as a building, sporting the Amauri white stripe — with the fun addition of a completely white eyebrow — and wearing an expression that made her want to take a precautionary step back, he was the picture of a fearsome guard.
“Felix didn’t say I have to hide,” Genevieve protested. “I need to know what’s happening, Luis. I can’t be in the dark.”
Luis let out a frustrated sigh. Tossing his head toward the house, he ordered, “Let’s get inside.”
They all followed dutifully after him as he disengaged the security perimeter and unlocked the front door. The home was dark but well-maintained inside. The walls were painted a soft cream and all the light fixtures were fitted with hand-blown glass bulbs that looked like they’d come straight out of the ocean.
Leaving their suitcases in the hallway for a moment, Luis led them into a cozy living room with a pair of yellow couches, a driftwood coffee table, and towering, built-in bookshelves framing a large television. Large glass doors led to a dreamy backyard full of scrubby plants.
Francesca loved it immediately, far more than she’d ever liked the penthouse or even his parents’ mansion, but she didn’t have much time to admire the details.
Dropping onto the couch beside Luis, she pressed herself to his side and was relieved when he immediately took hold of her thigh, like he wanted to anchor her to him as much as she wanted to be anchored.
The witch sat down across from them, but her bodyguard didn’t. He took up a post behind her, his massive hands clutching the back of the couch on either side of her shoulders – almost like he wished to make a shelter out of his body for the woman who stared at them with such haunted eyes.
“He knows I’m an Amauri now,” she said. It wasn’t a question, but there was an edge to it that was almost desperately hopeful. Like a part of her believed Luis would tell her no.
Unfortunately, Luis looked even more exhausted and frustrated than before. “We don’t know that. Not for certain.”