“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.”
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.”
The pressure squeezing her heart and lungs eased. “What, then? You said it was serious.”
“I’ve been over at Rafe’s for a few days. We brought Puddleglum with us. Thank goodness.”
Ione rolled her eyes. Phoebe treated that cat like it was her baby.
“When I got home this afternoon, there was—someone left—something...on my porch.”
Ione’s stomach clenched. “A dead cat.”
“Damn. You, too?”
“At the temple this morning. There was a note.”
“Yeah, I got a note, too. ‘Righteousness will not dwell in an unclean temple.’ I don’t even know what that means.”
“Was it signed ‘Nemesis’?”
“Maybe. The handwriting was so stylized. I think it’s written in blood. I thought it said Genesis.” A rustling sound followed before Phoebe spoke again. “Yeah, I think that’s it, after all. Nemesis. Who’s Nemesis?”
Ione sighed. “I don’t know, but the note I got was a little more detailed. Nemesis laid out a disputation in ten theses explaining why my impure blood was polluting the Covent, promising to purify the temple.”
“Oh, hell. I’m sorry.”
“Whoever he or she is, I think Nemesis is working with Carter.”
Phoebe made a sharp noise of disapproval. “Goddamn him. I thought we were done with his sorry ass.”
“Whose sorry ass?” Rafe’s deep, baritone voice came from the background.
Phoebe snorted. “One guess, babe. I’m putting you on speaker, Di.” Only her sisters got to call her that. Anyone else would find themselves on the receiving end of a palm-heel strike to the sternum.
Rafe’s voice became clearer. “You think this is Hamilton’s doing?”
Ione shrugged at the phone. “Nemesis brought up the ‘Lilith gene.’ Who else knows about it besides us? You haven’t told anyone else, have you, Phoebe?”
“Oh, shoot. You know, I did take out that full-page, coming-out ad in the Sedona Demon Times. Should I not have done that?”
Ione was used to pretending her little sister hadn’t spoken. “Besides the five of us, Carter’s the only one who knows.” She sighed. Might as well tell them about the birds. “This wasn’t the first dead animal I was gifted with, either. I’ve been finding dead crows on my doorstep.”
“Crows.” The symbolism seemed significant to Phoebe.
“Why, does that mean something?”
“That’s one of Rafe’s naguals.”
This was news to Ione. “You have more than one nagual?”
Rafe cleared his throat as though Phoebe had mentioned something indelicate. “I transformed into a crow early in the quetzal’s awakening. I believe it was a subconscious response to Hamilton using his necromantic powers to become the coyote when he was appropriating the authority of Quetzalcoatl’s nemesis, Tezcatlipoca.”
Nemesis. There was that word again.
“It does seem like Hamilton’s MO.” Rafe paused. “Why were you at the temple on a Saturday morning?”
“They sent a Covent assayer to investigate me—sort of a magical insurance claim adjuster—and he was there, along with the entire coven, when we discovered