Page 34
Grace wasn’t much of a liar. The expression on her face gave her away.
“But you know Cordelia. She’s not anyone’s idea of a benevolent witch, is she?”
Grace opened her mouth, then snapped it closed. Oui. She knew. Evil like that was difficult to hide.
“So why not hand it over to the council?” she persisted. “Let them keep it in their vault?”
Alain ignored her questions, turning back to Maxime. “I doubt she knows too much. Cordelia didn’t even bother telling her I was a werewolf.”
Maxime cocked an eyebrow. “Sounds like Cordelia was setting her up to fail.”
“Oui.” He glanced at Grace. Her startled gaze spoke volumes.
Maxime scraped back his chair, went to the sideboard and grabbed three mugs and a pot of coffee. He filled the mugs and handed one to Alain. “And we both know why that is.”
Alain sipped his coffee. Oui.
Grace declined the mug Maxime offered her and leaned forward, taking them both in. “Why? Why would Cordelia want me to fail? She wants her grimoire back.”
He didn’t know why he looked at Maxime. For permission? When chickens have teeth. For advice? Maxime hadn’t been successful with his mate. But Pierre and Louis were, and so were Gabriel and Laurent. “I’m going to tell her,” he said. “Everything.” In case Maxime misunderstood what he meant.
“Tell me what?” asked Grace.
“Do you think that’s wise?” To his credit, Maxime didn’t immediately reject the idea.
He stared into his coffee. “I don’t know. It’s what Pierre suggested. And we could use all the help we can get.”
“Mm.” Maxime didn’t sound convinced.
“I get you don’t want to cause panic, Maxime.” He did. It was a big part of the reason he’d not mentioned his concerns to anyone, not his parents, or Gabriel. But he should’ve brought it to Maxime sooner. He was man enough to admit his pride had got in the way of common sense. It was why, when the grimoire had been delivered into his care, he’d been determined to come home and do exactly that. “The time for keeping this secret is over, Maxime. At least tell Gabriel and bring Annabelle in on this. You trusted her with the grimoire. Trust her with this.”
“Your second sight tell you about that?” Maxime grimaced. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”
Alain shrugged. “Annabelle will have witches in the coven she can call on. Ones who have dealt with Cordelia. I’ve got a witch who works as a curator for the Bibliothèque nationale de France searching for a solution, but we need fresh eyes on this. It’s going to take time to go through Cordelia’s grimoire, and time is one thing we don’t have. Not anymore.”
“Annabelle?” asked Grace. “As in Annabelle Jackson, High Priestess of the San Francisco Bay coven?”
“Oui,” he said. “Gabriel, her mate, is the twins’ older brother and the head of our pack security.”
“And she knows about Cordelia’s grimoire?”
Alain nodded. “Annabelle was the one who sent it to me.”
“Oh.”
Grace slumped against the table, balling her hands into fists and pressing them against her mouth. In the heavy chair, in this room, she looked so small, so…lost.
Maxime set his cup down with a decisive thunk. “Tell her.” His alpha was as good at reading people as he was. “Everything. But on one condition. You’ll go back to the cottage and bring the grimoire up here. And you’ll both stay in the house from now on.”
He went to protest, but Maxime held up his hand.
“It’s not negotiable. You’re more protected up here, as is the grimoire. Besides, you don’t even have a bed in the cottage. Sleeping on the rug in wolf form isn’t an option for Grace.”
He and Maxime under the same roof? That hadn’t ended well the last time.
“Okay,” conceded Maxime. “You can go back to the cottage any time you want, but Grace stays here. As does the grimoire.”
The connard. Hell would freeze over before he’d leave Grace here with him, and Maxime knew it.
