the smile wasn’t working on her and let it fade. “To put it bluntly, someone familiar with the supernatural who also understands the science.”
Theia crossed her arms and studied him. “And are you? Familiar with it?”
Something dark seemed to cloud his vision for a moment, but he shook it off and smiled. “Not quite as familiar with it as you are, I’m sure. You might say my family is magical adjacent. Our business intersects with the magical community. It’s sort of a quid pro quo.”
“Unless you’re implying that I owe you for saving me from choking on a grape, there’s no quo I could possibly want from you or your organization. I’m sorry, Mr. Smok, but I’m not interested.”
Lucien met her gaze with a reproachful look. “Mr. Smok? Really?”
“Pretty much.” Theia caught Rhea’s eye across the room and moved away from the bar, but Lucien stepped in front of her once more.
“Talk to Rafe. Before you write me off completely, ask him about the mutually beneficial relationship the Smok family has had with the Diamantes for ages.” He took a card from his shirt pocket, crimson with black lettering, and handed it to her.
Theia thought about refusing it, but that would just prolong the “dance.” She snatched it out of his hand and walked swiftly away before he could say anything else, meeting Rhea halfway as she came to her twin’s rescue.
“I saw your signal.” Rhea glanced at Lucien still standing by the bar. He raised a glass of champagne toward them. “I wasn’t sure you really wanted rescuing, though. He looks tasty.”
“He’s a creep, and I’m not interested. I’m more concerned about Carter’s little magic show.”
Rhea glowered. “Yeah, what was that? How the hell did Malibu Ken get out of prison?”
“I’m guessing one of his dirty friends in high places fixed it for him.”
Lucien’s words about quid pro quo and his family’s relationship with the magical community came back to her. Both Rafe and Dev had spoken of connections that helped keep Covent business—and other supernatural events—from the public eye. Could that be the connection with the Smok family? Maybe she should talk to Rafe after all. Not because she had any intention of getting involved in Lucien’s project, but because she and her sisters had a right to know who else knew about their business.
It wasn’t until she was helping clean up after the reception ended that Theia found her opening. Phoebe and Rafe were about to leave for the Yucatán, and she wouldn’t have another opportunity.
Theia stacked the folding chairs as Rafe collected them, his thick, dark waves tied back in a high, bobbed tail. “What do you know about Lucien Smok?”
Rafe paused in picking up a chair. “Was he bothering you? I saw him talking to you, but I figured you could handle him. I’d keep him at arm’s length if I were you.”
It wasn’t quite the answer she’d expected. “So your family doesn’t have some kind of simpatico relationship with the Smoks?”
Rafe’s look was guarded. “I wouldn’t call it simpatico, exactly, but there is a relationship. It goes back centuries. To the time of the founding of the Covent, in fact.” The Diamantes had been founding members.
“You mean they’re a Covent family?”
“No, not exactly.” He handed her the folded chair. “There were no witches among the Smok family—that I know of. But I read a lot of Covent history in my father’s records after his death. Information that isn’t generally known.”
It was unlike Rafe to be so cagey.
“What kind of information?”
Rhea’s laugh rang out from the stairs as she came down with Phoebe after helping her change. Rafe set another chair on the stack and smiled at the sight of Phoebe in her usual bouncy ponytail, bangs across her forehead instead of swept back as they had been under the mantilla. “My father kept several volumes on Covent history and politics,” he murmured, still smiling at Phoebe. “Ione has the keys to his house. Tell her I left some books for you in the library.”
* * *
After seeing Phoebe and Rafe off with much ribbing and a fair amount of sisterly tears, Theia and Rhea flopped together onto the bench by the door, and Rhea kicked off her heels with a groan.
Theia removed hers more sedately. “Where’s Leo?”
“I told him to go ride with the Hunt for a while and work off some of his buzz. It’s weird. Alcohol doesn’t usually affect him this much. He’s got a pretty high tolerance.”
“I thought the Wild Hunt only appeared between Halloween and Yule.”
“It does, normally. But now that he’s mortal, he’s not bound by the Norns’ rules and he can conjure the riders when he likes. There’s always some sicko out there that needs a one-way ticket to Náströnd.”
Theia poked at her décolletage. “It seems a little like playing God. How does he determine that someone is deserving of having their soul ripped out and escorted to hell?”
Rhea shrugged. “It’s a scent or something. I don’t ask too many questions. He gets all Gunnar the tenth-century Viking on me sometimes, like his soul is taking the reins even though he’s no longer under the curse, and Gunnar can be a little...pompous.”
“But you’ve ridden with him.”
“Yeah.”
“And you don’t feel weird about it? About taking somebody out of the earthly plane?”
“And having one less pedophile or rapist walking the earth? Not so much.”
Theia had to admit she didn’t exactly hate the idea. As long as their guilt was certain.
When Ione and Dev came back from closing up the temple, Theia could see the tension on Ione’s face. Carter had really gotten to her. She couldn’t blame her. Carter Hamilton was like a nasty rash that just kept coming back. It hurt to see his manipulative bullshit affecting Ione like this.
As Ione picked up one of the plastic bins of supplies, Theia hopped up from the bench and grabbed another. “Do you need any help getting things back to the house?”
“No, I think we’re good. Dev’s already loaded up the car with the rest.”
Theia followed her out with her bin. “By the way, Rafe mentioned something about getting the key to his dad’s place from you. He wanted me to take a quick look in on it while I’m watching Phoebe’s.”
“His dad’s place?” Ione set the bin on top of the others and loaded Theia’s next to it. “I thought he was selling that.”
“I assume he still is, but I guess nobody’s been by regularly except the gardener, and he wanted me to take a look around.”
Ione could always tell when one of them was bullshitting her, and the fact that she didn’t push back on the request spoke volumes about her mental state.
She
