and see how I am. I’m sorry I cried all over you.”
“As to that,” he said uncomfortably.
She’d been rubbing a hand over his chest, quiet and calm in his relaxed hold. Now, her hand stilled. Her quick glance at his expression showed her startlement.
He kissed her mouth lightly, tasting tears and toothpaste and a trace of raspberry lip balm. “I have a question for you.”
“Go on.”
He thought of going on in all seriousness, going on to steal more kisses, but this was important. “How did the intruders know that Daria was in your house?”
“That’s what I want to know!” Liz struck his chest in her excitement. “I phoned my contact in the shelter network last night to inform them of what happened and I asked if anyone had followed them or Daria’s voice coach. They were the only two people who knew she was staying with me. Neither of them had any sense that they’d been made.”
Her sincere use of the outdated mob slang, “made”, amused him. But her point was crucial, and confirmed part of his reasoning. It was his turn to nod and urge her to go on.
She paced. “Albert’s ward wasn’t broken at random. It required significant power and skill. A person wouldn’t hire a mage like that unless they were sure of what they were after—like with the break-in at your greenhouse. They knew the cost and risk of hiring a mage to break that ward was worth it.” She frowned out the window, at the astonishing view of London, then swung around to stare at Carson. “How would Andrew Thirkell know to hire a mage? He’s a mundane.”
“ He is,” Carson said with emphasis.
Her mouth compressed, as if he’d confirmed a thought of hers. “A human trafficker who works with mages. We’ll have to contact the Collegium. They handle rogue mages.”
“I’m sure someone’s already told them.”
She walked back to him. The white sleeveless shirt she wore showed off the light, golden tan on her arms and their muscled perfection. Her legs were the same, perfect, beneath a pair of abbreviated navy shorts. Her sandals were flat and comfortably casual, made of natural leather. “What are you thinking?”
Time to put his cards on the table. He was here because he had suspicions that only she could confirm. “When we got back to your house last night, Albert was already there because he’d felt the ward break. If Albert used the same pattern of warding as at the greenhouse, the first layer was a look-away spell and the inner ward was set to keep people out. Only, neither ward affects weres.”
Liz’s stillness suggested she’d also considered the facts, and drawn similar conclusions. “It’s true, wards or not, a were who came to my house could see, smell and hear its inhabitants. If they knew Daria, they could recognize her. But what are the chances of a were knowing her scent well enough to pick it up? And while our lives are filled with weres, there aren’t actually that many of them. We’re a tiny percentage of the population. I haven’t scented any around my home for days.”
“Except Brandon,” Carson said deliberately.
She stared at him. “No. He’s pack!”
“And your instincts screamed so loudly at you when he appeared outside your house that you panicked and rushed to claim me as your boyfriend.”
“Carson, it couldn’t be Brandon.”
“Why not?”
“Whoever it was hired a mage and mundanes to invade the house. If he’d used weres, the mage wouldn’t have been necessary. The wards wouldn’t need to have been broken. They’d have been irrelevant.”
“You’re the sister of the Suzerain.” Carson gripped her hands. “Which weres do you think would be suicidal enough to attack you?” She pulled at his hold, but he wouldn’t release her. “Think past your emotions. Who else but Brandon had a chance to observe Daria behind the wards?”
“But how would he recognize her?”
“He’d have to know Andrew Thirkell,” Carson said bluntly.
“A human trafficker?” Liz
“As to that,” he said uncomfortably.
She’d been rubbing a hand over his chest, quiet and calm in his relaxed hold. Now, her hand stilled. Her quick glance at his expression showed her startlement.
He kissed her mouth lightly, tasting tears and toothpaste and a trace of raspberry lip balm. “I have a question for you.”
“Go on.”
He thought of going on in all seriousness, going on to steal more kisses, but this was important. “How did the intruders know that Daria was in your house?”
“That’s what I want to know!” Liz struck his chest in her excitement. “I phoned my contact in the shelter network last night to inform them of what happened and I asked if anyone had followed them or Daria’s voice coach. They were the only two people who knew she was staying with me. Neither of them had any sense that they’d been made.”
Her sincere use of the outdated mob slang, “made”, amused him. But her point was crucial, and confirmed part of his reasoning. It was his turn to nod and urge her to go on.
She paced. “Albert’s ward wasn’t broken at random. It required significant power and skill. A person wouldn’t hire a mage like that unless they were sure of what they were after—like with the break-in at your greenhouse. They knew the cost and risk of hiring a mage to break that ward was worth it.” She frowned out the window, at the astonishing view of London, then swung around to stare at Carson. “How would Andrew Thirkell know to hire a mage? He’s a mundane.”
“ He is,” Carson said with emphasis.
Her mouth compressed, as if he’d confirmed a thought of hers. “A human trafficker who works with mages. We’ll have to contact the Collegium. They handle rogue mages.”
“I’m sure someone’s already told them.”
She walked back to him. The white sleeveless shirt she wore showed off the light, golden tan on her arms and their muscled perfection. Her legs were the same, perfect, beneath a pair of abbreviated navy shorts. Her sandals were flat and comfortably casual, made of natural leather. “What are you thinking?”
Time to put his cards on the table. He was here because he had suspicions that only she could confirm. “When we got back to your house last night, Albert was already there because he’d felt the ward break. If Albert used the same pattern of warding as at the greenhouse, the first layer was a look-away spell and the inner ward was set to keep people out. Only, neither ward affects weres.”
Liz’s stillness suggested she’d also considered the facts, and drawn similar conclusions. “It’s true, wards or not, a were who came to my house could see, smell and hear its inhabitants. If they knew Daria, they could recognize her. But what are the chances of a were knowing her scent well enough to pick it up? And while our lives are filled with weres, there aren’t actually that many of them. We’re a tiny percentage of the population. I haven’t scented any around my home for days.”
“Except Brandon,” Carson said deliberately.
She stared at him. “No. He’s pack!”
“And your instincts screamed so loudly at you when he appeared outside your house that you panicked and rushed to claim me as your boyfriend.”
“Carson, it couldn’t be Brandon.”
“Why not?”
“Whoever it was hired a mage and mundanes to invade the house. If he’d used weres, the mage wouldn’t have been necessary. The wards wouldn’t need to have been broken. They’d have been irrelevant.”
“You’re the sister of the Suzerain.” Carson gripped her hands. “Which weres do you think would be suicidal enough to attack you?” She pulled at his hold, but he wouldn’t release her. “Think past your emotions. Who else but Brandon had a chance to observe Daria behind the wards?”
“But how would he recognize her?”
“He’d have to know Andrew Thirkell,” Carson said bluntly.
“A human trafficker?” Liz
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