Witch Fury

EIGHTEEN

BACK TO BELINDA.

Sarafina approached the desk in the lobby of Duskoff International, feeling the charm that Theo had given her resting in the hollow of her throat like a talisman against evil.

“You’re back,” Belinda greeted her, dropping her nail file to the desk with a curl of her upper lip. She sounded absolutely thrilled.

“I need to see Stefan.”

Belinda shrugged a shoulder, clad in a beautiful gray silk blouse. “You can’t. He’s not here.” She placed a hand on the top of the desk and leaned forward. “What do you mean? Where did he go?” She sneered. “Mr. Faucheux is a busy man. He’s supposed to wait around here for you?” Damn it.

“It’s really important that I talk to him.” “Don’t get your Hanes Her Way in a bunch. He’s traveling this morning. Mr. Faucheux left word with me to send David to you. He’ll get you where you need to be.” She plucked a pink Post-it from her desk with manicured fingertips. “The note Mr. Faucheux left for you says, ‘If you’re serious about what you said yesterday, meet me at the airport.’ ” Belinda glanced at her watch. “But you’d better hurry, he’s taking off soon.” “Where is he flying to?”

Belinda made a face. “How the hell would I know? I’m just the receptionist.” She picked up the phone and pressed a button. “David will be right down.”

SARAFINA FIDGETED IN THE BACK OF THE SLEEK black limo as they turned onto the street that would take them to the airport.

Finally.

Across from her sat David, a water warlock, who was apparently something like Stefan’s personal assistant. He wore an expensive tailored suit and a mocking expression a lot like Belinda’s on his narrow, horselike face. He was suave, cultured, a bit androgynous, and superficially at least, seemed to fit right into New York City like a puzzle piece.

Sarafina had the impression he’d murder her in a heartbeat if he thought he’d get something out of it.

David, she was pretty sure, had served William Crane, too. She’d heard Thomas and company talk of him before. Every time the Coven and the Duskoff had a magickal smack-down or conducted a raid, somehow this guy escaped.

They’d scurried across town in midday traffic to an airport that dealt mostly with private jets. The entire trip David had either been on his Blackberry or his laptop and had spared little more than a glance at her. Really, the only time he’d opened his mouth was to take little jabs at Thomas and the Coven. Sarafina had handled her anger like an Oscar-winning actress, but she so wanted to punch this little weasel.

Sarafina sat ramrod stiff, staring out the window of the limo, her mind turning her situation over. She was currently careening through Manhattan traffic as fast as the limo driver could push his way through, in a mad dash to meet Stefan’s private jet, which would whisk her away immediately to parts unknown.

There would be no way for Theo and Darren to follow her, nifty charmed necklace or not. Was Stefan doing this on purpose? To ensure she wasn’t being watched by the Coven? If so, did he only suspect she still had ties to Thomas Monahan. . or did he know?

The limo came to a stop next to a sleek midsized white jet with multicolored lines running down the fuselage and two huge engines mounted near the tail. Six windows lined either side. This was Stefan’s private plane, so of course it was top-of-the-line.

The limo driver opened the door for her, letting in the morning sun. She looked at the plane and then turned to David. “I don’t have anything with me, not even my toothbrush.” David twisted his lips into a sardonic smile and let his Blackberry drop into his lap. “If you want to join the Duskoff, you’ll be expected to bleed for us.” He tipped his head to the side and gave her a withering look. “If you can’t even manage a day trip without your toothbrush, then you’re certainly not ready for the rest.” Point taken.

The driver helped her out and guided her to the stairs. At the top waited Stefan. “Sarafina, I’m so happy you decided to join me.” He motioned to her and she climbed the stairs to the top. “Step into my parlor.” He placed a hand to the small of her back and led her into the passenger cabin of the plane. It was narrow, but packed with luxury. She took a moment to scan the fine leather furniture, thick carpeting, a wide-screen television and a stereo system, and fully stocked bar.

Stefan motioned to the two heavily muscled men sitting at the front of the cabin, near the cockpit. “My bodyguards. They only speak when spoken to, so they won’t be disturbing us.” Someone moved in the corner of the cabin. The pilot? The man turned and guided icy blue eyes to her face.

Bai.

The airplane door slammed shut behind her.