Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(66)

“He seemed the most likely suspect, but you’re missing the most important part. The Black dragon could have taken the blame for stealing the paintings, done the commissioned work without pay, and gone on with his life. Instead, he told the truth, maintained his innocence, and proved himself honorable by not taking the liar’s way out.”

The twisted logic made her head hurt. “So he was rewarded for choosing jail time he didn’t deserve rather than lying and essentially paying a fine of free portraits.”

“Yes,” her grandfather said. “Loyalty and honor are more important than taking the easy way out.”

He seemed to expect some sort of response. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to understand our belief system and act accordingly.”

The phone on his desk rang, saving her from coming up with some sort of response. She used that chance to escape, opting to leave the books behind, afraid he might quiz her on the court cases later.

...

The next morning, Bryn woke late. It was the first time since coming to school that the damn stress-inducing alarm clock hadn’t woken her. Talk about a bonus. Of course, after Christmas break, she’d have to return to school and deal with it again. But this was a nice sabbatical.

Okay, she was awake. Now what? Would her grandmother call and ask her to come down to breakfast? Could she go have breakfast by herself somewhere? That sounded nice. In this ginormous house there had to be a quiet room with a normal-sized kitchen table somewhere.

Rather than wander for hours, she decided to ask Rindy, the all-knowing phone fairy. After dialing and waiting for the call back, she learned there were tables in a sunroom on the third floor. Abigail would have breakfast waiting for her in thirty minutes. Having money didn’t necessarily make you happy, but it certainly made life easier.

After a quick shower, she dressed in jeans and a nice blouse (as a concession to her grandmother). Until she was told there was a formal dress code in the house, she would continue to wear tennis shoes and jeans.

Silence met her when she walked down the hallway. Her tennis shoes made no sound. Why have such a giant house for two people? From her conversations with her grandparents yesterday, everything seemed to be about keeping up appearances.

Living your entire life that way would be exhausting. She’d do her best to keep her grandparents happy, but there were limits. People could think what they wanted. She didn’t give a rat’s ass.

Almost every room she passed had a closed door. Was there a living room somewhere, a place to sit and watch TV or listen to music? There were five freaking stories in this mansion. There had to be a television somewhere.

When she came to the stairs, she looked up and down to see if anyone else was around. Nope. She was by herself. Wanting to burn off some anxiety, she jogged up the stairs to the third-floor landing. The back wall of the landing was floor-to-ceiling windows. Trees and manicured greenery went on for as far as she could see. If she were in charge, she’d put a table and chairs right here to enjoy the view. How isolated were they out here? Maybe she’d ask Valmont to bring her a map.

Rindy had said the sunroom was the second door on the left after the landing. When she entered the room, she spotted Abigail collapsed on the floor next to the food cart.





Chapter Twenty-Five


Bryn scanned the area for someone who might jump out at her as she ran to kneel next to the maid.

“Abigail?” She turned the woman’s body over. Her eyes were wide open, her pupils dilated. Should she try to heal her or find a phone and call for help?

What if time was of the essence? She focused on her life force, imagining it as a small sun glowing in her chest. Once it burned brightly enough, she placed her hand on Abigail’s forehead and pushed her life force into Abigail’s body like Medic Williams had taught her to do with Jaxon. The familiar claustrophobic feeling hit as she channeled Quintessence into Abigail’s veins, feeling for what was wrong.

There was no head trauma. The plush carpet must’ve cushioned the woman’s fall. She pushed deeper. What was that sickening sweet scent? God, it was awful, like rotten meat. Where was it coming from? And then she saw it, an odd grayish substance in Abigail’s blood. That had to be poison.

She directed her Quintessence in the form of fire to burn the disgusting substance. In a few minutes the gray was gone, and the rotten meat smell went with it. Bryn withdrew her life force from Abigail’s body. Nervous, she watched as Abigail came to, blinked, and looked around.

“What happened?”

Bryn helped her sit up. “I came in here and found you passed out on the floor. Do you feel okay now?”

“I think so.” She tried to stand and wobbled a bit.

“You should sit.” Bryn pulled a chair over. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Abigail sank into the chair. “I came in, opened the curtains, and set the table.” She pointed at the table set for one. Then I checked the food to make sure it was hot.” Abigail blushed. “Don’t tell your grandmother, but I ate a few strawberries. I’ve been up since five and…”

“You don’t have to justify why you were hungry.” Bryn walked over to the dish of strawberries set on the table. “Are these the strawberries you ate?”

“No. I filled your dish, and then ate the extras before I put the plate back on the cart.”