Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
He pointed at her, but she was already darting out of the room. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. Fucking hell.
That was absurd. She couldn’t do this in fifteen minutes. There was no possible way. And yet she had no other option.
She raced barefoot down the hall, yanking open a door to the stairwell. Without stopping to think, she dashed upward on the tight stairs that led to what were once servant quarters. Kierse heaved a deep breath in as she reached the landing in record time. She listened at the door before pulling it cautiously open and looking within.
Okay. Maybe these were still servant quarters. The simple interior was night and day compared to over-the-top decor below. Everything was drab and gray and bare. Not a rug or painting or gilded anything in sight.
Also no people, thankfully.
Kierse hastened down the hallway. The door should be overwhelmingly obvious, guarded by wards and surrounded by magic. There was no need to hide the warding, because it was very difficult to break another master’s wards, sometimes impossible. Graves had insinuated that very few people could break his wards—though she’d seen a Druid spell on the winter solstice take them down last year.
None of the doors she passed felt right. She was beginning to wonder if this was a fool’s errand when the weight of Estelle’s magic suddenly hit her like a wave. She retreated a step in revulsion. It was a lot of magic. Maybe enough to overpower Kierse’s absorption.
The first time that had happened, she and Graves had been stealing letters from Imani and her husband, Montrell. Kierse had been sick for days afterward, even after taking an antidote to Imani’s powers. She couldn’t overdose on magic tonight. Not when her escape was a climb onto the Parisian rooftops.
But fuck, this was her best shot at the cauldron.
“Goddamn it, Graves,” she hissed under her breath.
Then she stepped into the wave of Estelle’s magic. She coughed around the heat that was like stepping into an inferno. She wondered what it would be like to see and feel Estelle’s illusions right now. Was it a fear tactic? Did it show her death or a person’s worst nightmares? What would others see in this scenario?
Kierse didn’t know, and she was glad for it, as her hand closed over the doorknob and opened the door.
She choked through a gasp as the sight of Graves lying dead on the floor hit her like a freight train. His head snapped at an unnatural angle. Those storm-cloud eyes devoid of emotion. His tattoo black against his bleached-white skin. It was so real. Too real.
Her heart constricted as she crawled forward. Her hand reached out for his body as if there was possibly a way to put it all back together. Tears fell from her cheeks as sobs wracked her body.
“Graves,” she whispered in horror. “It’s not supposed to end like this. You promised…”
But what had he promised? Nothing.
Graves had never promised her anything. And now he was dead. Dead and gone, when he was supposed to be covering her retreat. How could Estelle have gotten to him this fast? How could he have let this happen?
Graves? Her Graves? He was the most powerful being on the planet. One of his old apprentices could never have gotten the drop on him. His eyes were lifeless. His body empty of all that fire and magic he always exuded.
She rebuked this. It could not be Graves. Would not be Graves.
Estelle couldn’t have done this, not in this short of time. Still, the image remained. He didn’t waver. It wasn’t until her magic began to drain away as if through a sieve that she realized something about this was really wrong. She wanted to keel over and die from the intensity. Like she’d never breathe again, seeing Graves like this. But it was wrong. This was Estelle’s doing, and she could see through the vision if she…just…
She threw herself forward over the threshold and through to the other side.
The magic snapped off. Graves’s dead body vanished. The world was once more whole.
Kierse dry heaved onto the hardwood flooring, now thankful that she hadn’t eaten anything all day. Her body shook from the loss of magic. Her absorption was used up. Her glamours were down. She had only scraps left.
A throat cleared, and Kierse slowly lifted her head in dawning horror to find Estelle seated on a chair at the other end of the room.
She clapped her hands. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
Chapter Seven
“Farther than I thought you’d get,” Estelle said from her perch.
She’d changed out of her fancy gown and was dressed in black cigarette pants and a cream blouse. Her hair was tied up into a French twist.
Kierse narrowed her eyes, and the image of Estelle flickered at the edges. She could see the red dress underneath, the hair down and loose.