“You weren’t wrong,” I said, “but that was quite the gamble.”
“It was. However, my magic is rooted in serving and protecting my Jezebel. I send out the magic that tests potentials, I am keyed to this library to safeguard it, and I have healing magic specific to my Jezebel, should she require it.”
I leaned forward. “If you’d found me years ago, would both you and your father have been my Attendants?” My daddy issues didn’t run anywhere deep enough to have wanted this dynamic with Rafael’s father.
“No. As there is supposed to only be one Jezebel at a time, there is only one Attendant at a time. I took over my father’s duties when he died. It would seem that my protective qualities extend to quieting your cravings. It was a risk I had to take.” His eyes went soft and dreamy as he spoke, his finger tracing the gauze now taped over the gash in his arm.
Fuck. On top of everything, I’d wounded him.
How long was this enchantment going to last? I snapped my fingers under his nose. “Cut it out.”
“Should those cravings continue to plague you, and when it comes to the Sefer, I almost guarantee that they will, then you’ll be in need of my particular assistance, and only mine.” His smile was smug, his pupils still glassy.
“There has to be another way,” I said.
He actually pouted for a second, before a crafty gleam entered his eyes. “We have a solution and we will avail ourselves of it because I’ll not let anything stand in the way of you doing your job. Those scrolls must be found and destroyed and you are susceptible to their magic.” He shrugged, artfully careless. “Without my aid, I’m not sure how many more episodes like that one you can be brought back from.”
Rafael’s commitment to the cause was absolute, but as Sherlock Holmes once said, “Nobody deceives like an addict.” Addicts elevated con artistry to a survival skill. Rafael’s words were true, but given his current condition, they were also a justification. Thing is, considering his magic remedy was the only thing that currently worked, what choice did I have either way?
I pulled on my collar, as if that could help me drag air into my seized-up lungs. Reason. Intelligence. Deduction. Those were the qualities I prized, not feeding like the undead off the hot guy I’d enthralled. I preferred my men willing. Like—no.
I searched for something in the room starting with the letter A for the self-soothing technique I’d learned in counseling after my dad left. Armchair, bowtie…
“Then it’s settled,” Rafael said. “We may proceed to the actual reason for your visit.”
Nothing was settled. This was a disaster and we couldn’t have a rational conversation. Chances were exceedingly high that when Rafael snapped out of this, he wasn’t going to be thrilled that he’d felt this way about me. In fact, he’d probably be quite distraught and not want to be around me for a while. I couldn’t walk into danger with him in that condition and expect him to have my back.
Glasses, hand…
“How is Adam’s book connected?” I said.
“When Gavriella flatlined back when she was still Gracie,” Rafael said, “it was during a mission. She’d stolen a piece of the Sefer away from Chariot, giving us the three we currently have. Luckily, my father got to her in time and saved her life, ensuring that piece stayed ours. But as you know, with her death, your magic activated.” Rafael caught himself tracing the gauze and stilled his hand. “Gavriella insisted on moving here to try and find you. She had no connection to this city and her death certificate was public record. She and my father hoped they’d have an edge in finding the next piece.”
Nails, oxygen… My breathing was shallow.
“Did Dad give the book to Gavriella or was this intended for me?”
“The book was in Gavriella’s possession,” Rafael said. “Though that doesn’t negate it being placed at that Weaver’s house and used to draw you out now.”
“Regardless, Dad got her that coded message, so he must have known about Jezebels and wanted to help.” Signs pointed to him being a good guy.
“Or it was a trap even then,” Rafael said. “Chariot had pulled this stunt before. We have no way of knowing which it was, because the contact never showed up.”
“The contact has a name,” I said in a sharp voice. “Adam Cohen. My father.”
Rafael inclined his head at the correction and clasped my hands between his. “It may be best for you to prepare yourself for the worst-case scenario. Adam didn’t make the meeting. There are many potential reasons for that, some more upsetting than others.”
All this needy touching was making my skin crawl.
I stood up abruptly, pacing the room. “He’s not dead. My father is a level four Charmer. He can talk his way out of anything. If he was working for Chariot and planned to betray them, they could catch him in the act and he’d still be able to assure them of his loyalty. Also, I’m not convinced he didn’t show up. Adam’s self-preservation instincts are finely honed. If he suspected that Gavriella had the upper hand going into this, he’d have aborted it. I assume she had some plan to bring this unknown contact in for questioning?”
“Of course.”
I folded my hands together, staring down at the long fingers that I’d inherited from my dad. We used to press our palms together when I was little to see how much more mine had to grow to catch up to his. If I did it now, would they finally match? Or had his hands, like everything larger than life that I remembered about my father, diminished?
“There are a
