Page 29 of The Wolf and his Witch

He ended the call and slipped into the cab, giving the driver Annabelle’s address. Nothing and no one was going to lay a finger, magical or otherwise, on his Belle. Not while Gabriel still drew breath. Annabelle needed him. More than she knew. It was time to make her his mate.

Chapter Thirteen

Annabelle stared at the mess that was Aunt Marjory’s normally organized office. The Christmas tree was askew, the faux presents scattered about, and ornaments knocked from their branches and crushed into tiny pieces beneath an intruder’s boot. Drawers hung open and papers littered the floor and desk. All but a few books lay strewn about, ripped from their bookshelves. Ancient and valuable tomes lay open, their spines bent backward, and their pages curled over and creased.

Annabelle’s blood boiled. How could someone treat these treasures with such blatant disregard? She bent to retrieve a book, straightening out its pages and checking its spine for damage. She set it upright on the bookshelf.

“The Kings, do you think? Would they stoop so low as to do all this damage?” She picked up another book, its binding hanging on to the pages by mere threads. It almost made her want to cry. She placed it gingerly on the desk. It would need to be repaired. “Not your average burglar. Someone who knew how to break through your wards.”

Aunt Marjory surveyed the mess. “Do you think the shifters would do this? Gabriel?”

Annabelle raked her fingers through her tangled hair. She’d been with Gabriel all night, but… “Stefanie didn’t join us for dinner, and she wasn’t in their suite last night.”

“And Dutton?”

“He left the same time as Isobella.”

Aunt Marjory’s steely gaze locked on to hers. “I ask again, do you think the shifters could have done this?”

Annabelle picked up another book, smoothed out its pages and placed it carefully back on the shelf. She didn’t want to think they’d do this, but… “They were pretty keen to know about the spell.”

Annabelle froze in the act of picking up another book.The grimoire!Was it safe in her apartment? Was Isobella safe? She would’ve gone straight home last night. Annabelle dug into her bag for her phone and dialed Isobella’s number.

The phone rang and rang, and Annabelle’s anxiety rocketed. Finally, a sleepy voice answered. “Hello.”

“Isobella, are you okay? Did the apartment get burgled last night?”

“Wha— Just a minute.” Muffled sounds in the background, a yawn. “Okay, now I’m up… What are you talking about?”

“Aunt Marjory’s office got burgled last night. I thought when they didn’t find what they wanted…” Annabelle moved the phone from her mouth and raised her eyebrows at Aunt Marjory. “They didn’t get what they wanted, did they?”

“Of course not. I deleted the copy of the photo you sent me before you’d even left my house.”

Annabelle’s eyes widened. “You printed it out?”

“No. Keeping something that important in my office would be foolhardy. What with the way the Kings are at the moment.”

Annabelle gulped. She’d been stupid enough to store the grimoire in her dresser drawer. “But…what if I’d lost my copy?”

“Really, Annabelle. I’m disappointed you think I’m such a simpleton. That I wouldn’t deduce the illuminated manuscript from the French monastery was nothing more than a story. A spell like that had to have come from a grimoire. One which I’m sure you still have in your possession.” Aunt Marjory’s gaze bored into her. “I think you did the right thing stealing it fromRarity. We couldn’t possibly let something like that fall into the wrong hands, now, could we? Mmm?”

Hell, was she that transparent?

“Hello. Hello. Annabelle. Are you still there?”

Annabelle turned back to her phone. “Sorry, Isobella. Has the apartment been broken into?

The coffee machine clicked on, grinding away in the background. “Nope. It’s all fine here.”

The tension eased from Annabelle’s shoulders. “Okay, good. I’ll be home soon.”

“Well, I’ve got to go to work, so I might not be here when you get back.” The fridge door opened. Silence. “Oh, damn.” The fridge door closed, and the coffee machine abruptly shut off. “Can you pick up some milk on your way? We’re out.”

“Sure.” Milk was the least of her concerns. “See you tonight.”

She hit end and turned to Aunt Marjory. “I have to go. I’ll come back later and help you clean up.”

Aunt Marjory waved her off and began sorting through the papers on her desk. “I’ll get the staff to help me. You focus on the mission.”

---