Dev tried to vibe her with a folded-arm stance of paternal disapproval that she pretended not to see from the corner of her eye until he gave up. “And what is your name, Miss...?”

“Margot Kelley.”

“Miss Kelley, why don’t you accompany me to the vestry and we’ll have a little chat.”

Ione rolled her eyes. What was he, a headmaster in his day job?

The first interviewee, Calvin, passed her with a nod and an encouraging smile on the way out. That was two votes of confidence, anyway.

As she started to make an actual effort to put the proceedings out of her mind and read her book, a strangled cry of alarm came from the antechamber, and Calvin came stumbling back inside.

Ione was on her feet in an instant. “Calvin? What is it? What happened?” She stepped into the aisle and put an arm around his shuddering shoulders.

“On the door,” he choked out, looking ill.

Dev Gideon had come swiftly at the noise and he marched past them with determined steps, Margot following, bemused. Calvin had sunk onto one of the benches, too horrified by whatever he’d seen to articulate it.

Ione started toward the doors just as Margot hurried back inside. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“You don’t want to see it.” Margot shuddered, blinking back tears. “Somebody—some sicko nailed a dead cat to the door.”

Chapter 4

She was still high priestess of this coven, and it was her duty to protect it. Ione squeezed Margot’s hand before ignoring her advice and heading into the atrium. Dev stood in the doorway, his body framed in sunlight, looking down at the paper in his hand.

He turned as Ione neared the door and shook his head. “There’s no need to look. Someone was obviously going for shock value, and we don’t all need nightmares.”

“This is my coven, Mr. Gideon, and I’m not some delicate flower.”

Dev caught her arm as she tried to pass him and the surge of vibrational energy struck her once more—not sexual this time, thank heaven, but a powerful bolt like a warning that stopped her in her tracks.

“Let go of me.”

“Sorry.” Dev released her, looking shaken. “I’m just trying to spare you any more trauma than is necessary.”

“Necessary?” Exactly what kind of trauma would be necessary?

Dev held out the note. “I believe you were the target of this little act of terrorism.”

Ione took it, unable to resist one last glance beyond him to the mangled thing that lay on the stone walkway. She looked swiftly away. Maybe he was right about this. Whatever the aim, she had no doubt this was an escalation of the message that had been intended with the dead birds left on her porch every morning for the past week. She’d been so focused on the summonses she hadn’t even noticed the absence of this morning’s “gift.”

Her head swam as she tried to concentrate on the words written on a piece of parchment in the careful, talented hand of a calligrapher—in what appeared to be blood.

“It’s ink.” Dev guessed at her assumption. “They obviously wanted it to look like blood, but it’s ink.”

Ione breathed a little more easily and read the note aloud. “‘Out of love for the truth and from desire to elucidate it, I, Nemesis, intend to defend the following statements.’” She glanced up at Dev. “This nut is doing Martin Luther’s 95 Theses?”

Dev nodded grimly. “Just ten, but they’re what I believe Americans would call ‘doozies.’”

Ione continued. “‘One. When the Covent was established in the Canton du Valais in the Swiss Confederation in 1533, its aim was to illuminate the arcane as a complement to the glory of God, not to profane it.

“‘Two. The practice of the Sacred Craft within the tenets of the Covent is the antithesis of the practice of evil.

“‘Three. The thirteen founding families believed in purity of heart, purity of mind, purity of body, and purity of soul.

“‘Four. There is therefore no place in the Covent for those who harbor evil within them.

“‘Five. The high priestess of this coven has brought the stain of impure blood onto this body.’”

Ione’s voice trailed off. The remaining theses were more than she could bring herself to read aloud.

6. High Priestess Ione Carlisle, being of one of the venerable Covent families, has hidden the shameful secret that kept the Carlisle family from the ranks of the Covent for nearly four centuries: that she is of the blood of the accursed demoness Lilith.

7. Impure blood cannot be tolerated, and the body of the Covent must be cleansed.

8. Let her who pollutes the purity of the Covent be anathema and accursed.

9. To allow Ione Carlisle to continue as the high priestess of the Sedona Coventry is an act of heresy against the Covent.

The parchment shook in Ione’s hands.

10. She who brings evil into the halls of the Covent shall be admitted only into the halls of death and hell.

Dev quietly took it from her. “The writer of these words is obviously mentally unhinged, and the Covent doesn’t tolerate such harassment. But you’ll forgive me if I ask...is there any truth to the accusation?”

Glancing up, expecting judgment and derision in his eyes, Ione was surprised to see compassion and concern instead. “That I carry the blood of a demon in my veins?” The weight of every self-recriminatory thought she’d been having for weeks pressed down on her. Every fear she’d had of losing everything was coming true. And she deserved it. She was tainted. “If my sister Theia’s research is to be believed, I’m afraid the answer is yes.”

She felt deflated and empty after holding the secret inside for so long. Spoken aloud, it seemed commonplace, something that couldn’t possibly mean the end of everything she’d known. But it was.

Ione drew back her shoulders. “I’ll save you the time and bother, Mr. Gideon. I just need to collect a few things before I go. If you want to have someone accompany me to make sure I’m not stealing any Covent property, I’ll understand.”

“Collect a few things?” Dev frowned. “Where are you going?”

Ione wrinkled her nose at him. “I—home, Mr. Gideon. I’d rather go quietly without a public spectacle. My coven deserves better, even if I don’t.”

Dev lifted an eyebrow. “Miss Carlisle, you seem to be operating under the misapprehension that I endorse the agenda of this deranged person or persons calling themselves Nemesis and defiling the sacred grounds of this temple. I have no intention of asking you to step down. Not for this.

“Depending on the outcome of my investigation, once concluded, if my recommendations to the Covent administration include electing a new high priest or priestess, it will be because of your involvement with the necromancer. Not because of some antiquated notion of impure blood.”

Where had the smug prick gone? Was he actually being nice?

“I’m confused. What this ‘Nemesis’ nut says is true—my ancestor was found guilty of having demon blood, and when a member of my family was discovered to have married one of her descendants, the Carlisles were expelled from the Covent. Doesn’t the Covent frown on dark magic?”

Dev’s eyes were piercing. “Do you practice dark magic?”

“If you’re asking about necromancy, of course not. But my affinity for magic clearly isn’t born of goodness and light. It’s...demonic.” The word felt bitter on her tongue.

“There’s a world of difference between demon ancestry and what modern religion defines as demonic. It so happens that demonology was my area of focus at university. What we call a ‘demon’ these days is more accurately a malevolent energy. Anyone can cultivate such negative energy. One doesn’t have to be ‘possessed’ by some ancient spirit. In fact, it’s rather racist to suggest that what’s in a person’s blood should make them inherently evil, don’t you think?”

“I...hadn’t given it much thought.” She’d given it a lot of thought, actually. She’d thought of nothing else since Theia and Rhea had broken the news to her. But the way Dev was looking at her with those luminous eyes was making her feel as though she’d said something inappropriate and offensive.

“Don’t get me wrong, Miss Carlisle. There may still be consequences for withholding this information from the Covent leadership. I am obligated to report it, after all. The Leadership Council may not all be quite as enlightened on the subject, and not disclosing this information when you learned of it may be viewed as a breach of faith.” He carefully rolled up the parchment and made a gesture toward the remains. “Look, why don’t I clean this up? And then you and I can talk at length—if you don’t mind sticking around for a bit. I can interview the rest of the coven members at another time.”

This was exactly the opposite of the reaction she’d expected from him. A few minutes ago he’d all but accused her of making up the accusations of necromancy against Carter and practicing it herself. And now he was trying to reassure her that her demon blood didn’t make her evil?

Dev glanced around. “Do you keep any rubbish bags on the premises? Preferably dark, heavy-duty? I’d rather not carry that about in something transparent and have the others seeing it.”

Ione studied him and nodded with an intake of breath. “I think there are some gardening supplies in the basement.” Though she didn’t exactly relish going down there. It was where one of Carter’s victims had been stowed, and the smell had been impossible to get out completely no matter how much ventilation they’d given it. “I’ll have someone go downstairs and scare something up.”

Her conscience needled her for being a coward, but Margot was waiting inside the atrium, eager to do something to help. Ione sent her down to get the bags before reassuring the others that someone had just pulled a rather nasty prank and it was being taken care of.

On the bench farthest from the doors, Calvin sat, looking gray. Ione popped into the back office to get him a bottle of water and returned to slip onto the bench beside him.

“Hey.” She handed him the water. “Mr. Gideon’s going to clean up and then the rest of you can go home. Are you okay to drive or do you want someone to give you a ride?”

Calvin took the water gratefully and shook his head as he took a sip. “I can manage. I just...don’t want to see that again, you know?”

“I know. I’m sorry you had to be the one to find it.”

“Do you think it’s...was it the necromancer?”

“Carter Hamilton?” Ione shook her head decisively. “He’s behind bars and he’s been stripped of his power. He can’t do anything to hurt us. This is just some disturbed individual who’s focused on me because of everything that’s happened. Just trying to rattle me.”

Calvin huffed. “Well, it sure as hell rattled me.” He glanced up at her, brow wrinkled with concern beneath his receding hairline. “About that night—you needed our help—Rafe needed our help—and the coven let you both down.”

Ione squeezed his forearm. “You couldn’t have known how far gone Hamilton was. None of us knew. It all turned out all right in the end, anyway, so please don’t give it another moment’s thought.”

“But we’re not going to let you down again. I just wanted you to know that. We’re all standing with you.”

Ione smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Dev returned from washing his hands and dismissed the others, promising to contact them for their interviews at a later time. With the temple empty except for the two of them, there was no more putting off a one-on-one discussion.

But for the love of all that’s holy, do not think about your last one-on-one.

* * *

From the moment Ione Carlisle entered the temple, Dev had felt the ground wobbling beneath him, refusing to stabilize, as if some kind of psychic fracking operation had disrupted his equilibrium. There was something painfully familiar about her, like someone he’d met in a dream or another life, his mythical counterpart split off by a vengeful Zeus. Which was preposterous. At best, she had to be grossly incompetent as a high priestess and, at worst, she was in league with a necromancer and guilty of malfeasance. Never mind the fact that he didn’t believe in such nonsense as soul mates.

Her eyes, a grayish green, like the color of lichen or pale jade, were the most uncannily familiar part of her. When they fixed on him, he felt as if he had something on the tip of his tongue he meant to say but couldn’t quite recall it. And worse, Kur seemed to stir inside him at the sight of her as if he knew her.

“Have a seat, Miss Carlisle.” Dev sat behind the desk he realized was most likely her own, but it was important to maintain the symbolic position of authority. He couldn’t very well take her to task from the guest chair while she sat behind the large oak desk herself.

She took the empty chair without any sign of resentment. “Ms.”

“Sorry?”

“Ms. Carlisle. You keep calling me ‘miss.’ That’s considered a bit sexist and archaic here.”

“Oh. I beg your pardon. Ms. Carlisle—”

“And, frankly, that seems unnecessarily formal. Just call me Ione.”

He chose to ignore the fact that this pleased him unreasonably. “I am here in a formal capacity, but as you wish. Ione. Now that the others are gone, I wanted to get your thoughts on who amongst your coven might have reason for any kind of resentment or grudge against you.”

Her perfectly sculpted brows drew together in disapproval as she uncrossed and recrossed her legs. “Among my coven? You think one of them did that? Absolutely not. Even if they did have a grudge against me, none of them would do anything like that. I know them. It’s impossible.”

“The cat wasn’t killed by whoever put it there. At least, not directly. It was road kill, and a day or two old by the look of it.” Not to mention the smell.

“I don’t care. None of them did this.”

Dev clasped his hands on the desk. “Do any of them know of your ancestry?”

She shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Who does?”

“My sisters. Rafe Diamante...” She paused, coloring. “And Carter Hamilton.”

“You shared that with him?”

Ione’s mouth was set in a hard line. Foolishly, he regretted being the one to provoke such displeasure on that otherwise lovely mouth.

“Shared it? I used it against him, Mr. Gideon. It’s how we managed to bind him.”

Dev hadn’t heard this detail before. “How do you mean?”

“As my report states, I tried to gather a quorum of coven members to perform the necessary ritual, but without proof of Hamilton’s necromancy, they were reluctant to interfere, particularly on the word of an outsider and in defense of a warlock.”

He nodded impatiently. “So you helped Mr. Diamante use his necromantic abilities against Mr. Hamilton. I’ve read all this.”

Her green eyes darkened. “We did not use necromancy. If you repeat that slander one more time, Mr. Gideon, I may be sorely tempted to violate the Covent doctrine against using magic for spite.”

Dev had to work not to smile. Those eyes were really wreaking havoc with his poise. “You may as well call me Dev—in the interest of not being unnecessarily formal. But I suppose I can refrain from making such judgments until my investigation is complete. Please continue.”

Ione’s expression said she thought he was full of shite. “Given that my sister Phoebe’s life hung in the balance, I reluctantly agreed to attempt to share magical energy with my younger sisters, who had just revealed their theory to me about our...enhanced blood. Despite the fact that neither of them is trained in witchcraft, I managed to raise sufficient energy with them to project a binding spell upon Carter Hamilton’s magic from several miles away. We arrived at the Diamante family home just in time to see Rafe recover his nagual from Hamilton as the result of our binding. At which time, a spirit Hamilton had enslaved entered him—of its own accord—and bound him physically, as well.”

“Nagual?” Dev wrote the unfamiliar word on the pad of paper he’d been using for his interviews. “And what is that?”

“I don’t fully understand it myself, but as Rafe explained it, it’s a sort of spirit animal representing the god Quetzalcoatl, whom Rafe claims to be descended from. He can project it outside himself in various forms—or he can take on its form himself.”

Dev glanced up from the notepad. “He transforms physically? Into what?”

Ione shifted in her chair. “He calls himself ‘quetzal.’ He retains a mostly human form, except the tattoo of Quetzalcoatl on his back becomes an extension of him physically.”

“I’m not following you. Quetzalcoatl is represented in Aztec art as a feathered serpent. You’re saying he transforms into a feathered serpent in human form? Exactly how does that work?”

“I haven’t examined him personally. It seemed a bit awkward.”

“Then how do you know he actually did it?”

Ione cleared her throat and shifted her legs again. “Because he had wings. Iridescent blue-green-and-violet-tipped wings with an eight-foot span. Couldn’t really miss them.”

The pen slipped from Dev’s fingers. “That—wasn’t in the report.”

“No.” Ione shrugged—a vulnerable, feminine gesture that Dev found endearing. “It didn’t seem relevant. The facts were that Carter appropriated Rafe’s power through necromancy, my sisters and I bound Carter’s magic and Rafe got the power back. I understand you’re determined to make me out to be the villain of this piece because I was briefly involved with Carter Hamilton, but the fact is that he did what he did on his own and I was just stupid enough to fall for his act.”

There was a weariness in her eyes that couldn’t be faked. He wanted to believe she was telling the truth. But Dev had to be objective. He couldn’t afford to let his basest instincts color his opinions in this investigation. He had a responsibility to the Covent. Several members of the Leadership Council had been against his appointment, and they were watching him like hawks, just waiting for him to screw up. Dev wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction. And he would not be ruled by the demon. Tales of winged reptiles notwithstanding. Though he was going to have to interview this Diamante fellow for more than just his version of the facts of that night.

“I appreciate your candor, Miss—Ms.—Ione. So if I understand correctly, Carter Hamilton was made aware of your unique bloodline because he felt the power you and your sisters were able to project?”

Ione’s gaze slid away from his. “Not exactly. I mean, I’m sure he must have felt it. But evidently he targeted me because he’d researched our family. He knew my sister’s blood would fulfill the requirement necessary to awaken Rafe’s quetzal power so he could steal it from him. He referred to Phoebe as a divine scion, as Rafe himself claims to be. In Carter’s mind, I suppose, Lilith is a goddess and not a demoness.”

Dev inclined his head. “If you subscribe to certain pagan theories and academic speculation, Lilith may be equated with a number of ancient Semitic deities. It’s a matter of perspective, I suppose. One man’s demon is another man’s divine. Or woman’s.” He cleared his throat. “Be that as it may, this additional information about Carter Hamilton is significant. If he has an obsession with your ancestry, I think it’s quite likely he’s behind this morning’s act of terrorism.”

Ione didn’t seem surprised. “You think he’s orchestrating this from behind bars?”

“He seems the obvious suspect and the only one with evident motive to want to harm you. This Nemesis may be an alias he’s using or it could be the alias of someone he’s convinced to act on his behalf. He can’t use magic against you from prison because of the Covent’s binding, but, from what you’ve told me, it seems he’s rather persuasive.”

Ione’s cheeks flushed pink. “Most psychopaths are.”

“Indeed.” Dev made a note to look into how to get a record of Hamilton’s visitors and correspondence. “In the meantime, this seems most likely to be harassment and not a threat. But you should probably take some extra precautions. Perhaps you could stay with one of your sisters for a bit?”

“I’m quite sure I can take care of myself, Mr. Gideon.”

He gave her a wry smile. “Dev.”

Ione’s jade green eyes flickered with an expression he couldn’t interpret. “Dev. I assure you, I’m perfectly capable.”

“I don’t doubt it. As for your ancestry, let me assure you that I haven’t come here to dig up reasons to malign you before the Leadership Council. My job is to determine your fitness to serve as high priestess by assessing the facts of the events surrounding Carter Hamilton’s crimes. I strongly suggest, however, that you tell them before someone else does.”

She nodded stiffly as she rose. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Dev stood to shake her hand. As before, he felt a bit of a shock jump between her hand and his as their skin touched—just as he’d noticed with Kylie. What was this, some new idiotic tic of the demon’s to prod him into further mischief? Whatever the demon wanted, he would not be a slave to his desires.

“Thank you for cooperating in this matter. I understand that this is all very awkward and unpleasant, but I appreciate your professionalism.” Despite his annoyance with himself at his reaction to her, when Ione withdrew her hand, he felt childishly disappointed at the absence of it.

As she buttoned her coat, something about the motion reminded Dev of the way Kylie had zipped up her leather jacket before riding away last night, leaving him in the backseat of his rental car with his prick out—well satisfied though it may have been.

“I take my position as a high priestess of the Covent extremely seriously,” she was saying.

He was barely listening to her, the prospect of her disappearing into a world he wasn’t familiar with suddenly as frustrating as the disappearance of Kylie. “You said you don’t have a mobile number. How can I reach you if I need to?”

Ione picked up his pen and paper from the desk and wrote a number. “My landline. I have a machine.”

Chapter 5

The disquieting flicker of energy that emanated from Dev Gideon’s skin hadn’t dissipated until Ione was beyond the temple. There was something odd about a witch who seemed to project a magical aura even when he was simply sitting still. Maybe he was glamoured. It would account for how unfairly attractive he was. But even Carter hadn’t emanated such ceaseless power. Dev was like a live wire emitting a warning hum.

The light was blinking on her answering machine when she arrived upstairs, and her insides gave a stupid little jump of anticipation, as if the message might be from Dev. Why on earth would she care if he called her? If he did, it would only be to tell her she was being removed from her position. Or worse.

She played the message as she undressed. It was from Phoebe. Funny. Phoebe hadn’t even been speaking to her for months—maybe years, if one wanted to get technical—before this mess had thrown them together. Ione had been the one leaving unanswered messages.

“Ione, I know you don’t want to be bothered right now, but something’s happened.”

She paused in pulling on her yoga pants.

“I don’t like talking on a machine. Could you please call me? This is serious. I’m kind of freaking out over here.”

Images of Theia and Rhea lying mangled on the freeway like the bodies of their parents eleven years ago seized her, and Ione sucked in her breath as if someone had punched her in the gut. No. No, please. Don’t let it be one of the twins.

She grabbed the phone and hit Phoebe’s number on speed dial. Her sister picked up immediately.

“Phoebe, it’s me. What is it? What’s happened? Are they okay?”

“They?”

“The twins. You said something happened.”

“Oh, God, no. Nothing like that. They’re fine. I mean, as far as I know. I haven’t talked to them. I wanted to talk to you first.”

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