“We just focus on the case, then the next one, then the one after that. We go on living our quiet little lives,” he says, echoing my words from two nights ago. His eyes flicker away and he nods toward the kitchen. “Think those pancakes are still warm? I’m starved.”
The change of subject is like whiplash to my brain. I don’t know whether to feel relieved, disappointed, or irritated. In fact, I feel them all. I jump up from the table, glad for a chance to hide my face from Zack’s intent gaze. Aren’t I the one who just pointed out how impossible a relationship would be? And did he not react not only like a professional, but like a gentleman?
Isn’t that what I wanted?
Yes, but did he have to agree to back off so quickly? Did he have no other questions for me about my nature? I just told him something few other people in the whole world know. Even Liz had more questions when she first met me, and she’d known and been taught about me.
When I turn back around, pancakes in hand, I study Zack closely, looking for a sign of deception—some inkling that this is all part of a manipulation. I see none. The damned Were has me in knots. I place the dish of pancakes on the table, avoiding Zack’s eyes.
Before I have a chance to serve myself, my cell rings. I check the caller ID. It’s Liz. She’s crying into the phone and it takes me a moment to get her calmed down enough to understand why she is so upset.
“Evan didn’t come home last night. And he didn’t show for his early-morning hearing. I’ve tried every spell I can think of to try to locate him. Nothing works. It’s not absolute death, Emma. He hasn’t been released. I can tell. He’s just . . . gone.”
CHAPTER 14
As soon as I disconnect, Zack is standing beside me.
“That sounded serious. Liz is the friend you were talking to the other night? The one with the guy who is ready to make a commitment?”
“The one with a
Zack raises his eyebrows, then moves to block my way. “I’m going with you. Give me five minutes to get dressed.”
“Make it three.”
He’s on his way upstairs before the words leave my lips.
I lean against the kitchen counter. Liz’s skill at casting spells is legendary in the witch community. If she can’t locate Evan, there must be powerful magic working against her. If Evan’s disappearance is related to Amy’s and Isabella’s, and supernatural elements are involved, the case just became infinitely more complicated.
Zack bounds down the steps. I told him to take three minutes; he’s taken just shy of four. I don’t know how he did it, but his hair is combed, his tie knotted, his suit coat in his hand. “Let’s go.”
On the way over, I give Zack a quick rundown on who and what Liz is—my best friend and one of the most powerful witches west of the Rockies. He has two questions for me. “Does she know what you are?” And “How did the two of you get together?”
I feel as if I’ve revealed more than enough for one day, for a lifetime. So I answer yes, she knows I’m a Siren, but edit out the details of the two spells Liz works for me—the reverse glamour to hide my true appearance and the dampening spell to diminish my innate powers of seduction. As for his second question, I choose my words carefully and go for the simple truth.
“I knew her grandparents, powerful witches in themselves. They raised Liz when her own parents were killed. She’s a magical mercenary of sorts, selling her services to a variety of individuals. I needed her help with—a personal problem—several years ago. We’ve been best friends ever since.”
Sounds reasonable. No need for Zack to know the “several years” was really “a couple of decades” or that she also happens to be my touchstone when it comes to keeping my heart in line.
At Evan’s, I pull into the same guest spot I occupied yesterday and lead Zack to the condo. Liz pulls the door open before I have a chance to ring. “Thank the gods you’re here.”
She pulls me in, barely acknowledging Zack in her panic.
Zack, however, definitely acknowledges her. I forget how beautiful Liz is until I see her reflected in the eyes of others. Zack’s breath literally catches in his throat. And why shouldn’t it? Liz is five feet seven inches of stunning. Her long hair is a cascade of dark waves that sets off her almond eyes. She’s barefoot, dressed in jeans and a men’s dress shirt, probably one of Evan’s, with the sleeves rolled up. She manages to make this casual outfit look elegant enough for
There are other indications of her distraction. I know how Liz’s mind works. If she wasn’t so worried about Evan, she’d be interrogating Zack and peppering me with embarrassing questions. Her cool, appraising glance and the way she turns away from Zack after the briefest of handshakes say it all. Her attention is focused on Evan.
“This isn’t like him, Emma.” Liz leads us into the living room. “Not showing for a hearing? It isn’t like him at all.”
Liz and I take seats side by side on the couch, Zack across from us in an armchair.
I take Liz’s hand. “Tell me about the last time you heard from him.”
Liz bites at her lower lip. “The text I told you about last night. It said he was going to be late at the office. Preparing for an important hearing this morning. When I woke up and he wasn’t home, I didn’t worry. I knew he kept clothes at work for just this sort of thing—all-nighters followed by court. It’s happened before.”
She leans toward me. “But this morning, Sid, his assistant, called because Evan missed his court appearance. They had worked together until around midnight. After they’d finished, Sid said he asked Evan if he wanted to stop for a nightcap. There’s a bar right down the street they go to. But Evan begged off. He said he had a quick note to make and then he’d be heading straight home. They were supposed to meet at the courthouse this morning. When Evan didn’t show, Sid got a postponement, then called me to find out what happened. That’s when I knew something was wrong and tried to locate Evan myself.”
She gives Zack a fleeting look and whispers, “Does he know—?”
“That you’re a witch? Yes.”
“I’ve called all our friends. I’ve worked every locator spell I can think of. What comes up has me crazy. A void. He’s yet to be released to absolute death. It’s something worse. It feels as if he’s trapped—on an alternative plane, or that he’s in some kind of altered state. It’s different than simple sleep or unconsciousness. It’s dark, menacing.”
She looks again at Zack, this time with trepidation, as if expecting him to make a comment about how fantastical this sounds. For the moment at least, she’s forgotten that fantastical applies to each of us in this room.
Zack, however, has his eyes on the coffee table. He leans forward and picks up a flyer lying there. “What’s this?”
Liz glances at the brochure in his hand, shrugs. “It’s a program for tonight’s benefit.” She looks at me. “The same one you have tickets for.”
Zack is studying the logo. “Green Leaf. Where have I seen that name?” He opens the program and in the space of a heartbeat, he looks at me with grim seriousness. “Guess who’s on Green Leaf’s board of directors.”
He turns the page around so I can read the name he has his finger perched above. “Dr. Alexander Barakov.”
“Who’s that?” Liz asks.
I have to keep the eagerness out of my voice when I answer her. “Someone Zack and I recently interviewed. Evidently he’s on the Green Leaf board of directors. Has Evan ever mentioned him?”
