The Glamourist (The Vine Witch #2)(22)
Besides, the odd little book intrigued her. She’d never seen anything like it before, though there was something eerily familiar about the words and pages. She didn’t think Yvette had noticed, but she’d tried using her shadow vision to see beyond the symbols, to possibly get a glimpse of the girl’s absent mother. Strangely, the vision was blocked, as if the book had been wrapped in the equivalent of butcher’s paper. So then how to unravel the mystery and help the young woman trace her only connection to her mother and her magic?
And she did intend to help her. For the briefest of moments, yes, she’d fixated on the young woman as the leverage needed to get out of her appalling situation with the Ministry of Lineages and Licenses. All Elena would have had to do is stun the girl, then turn her over to Durant so the Covenants Regulation Bureau authorities, namely Inspector Nettles, could come and collect her, and she’d have her standing as a vine witch reinstated. Her worries would be over.
Except giving the girl up was never a real possibility. The idea rejected before it could take root. She and Yvette had little in common, and yet they’d been bound at the wrists by fate and the secretive deeds of long-gone mothers that still reverberated through their lives. She recognized the sudden pang of sympathy she felt for Yvette, the same one that had made her vow a month earlier during their prison escape that she would mentor the young woman should they reunite.
But how would she know what discipline to steer the girl toward to help her find her natural talent? She certainly couldn’t go to the records office and look up the Lenoir family bloodline. That would be a dead giveaway. They’d have to begin with the fundamentals and see where it led.
Elena was trying to recollect her grade-school spells as she put her cream away when a soft tapping came at the door.
“You’re far away.” Jean-Paul stepped into her room. He listened at the door for a moment, then shut it behind him. “And I have the distinct impression you’re keeping a secret,” he said as he lifted the hair off her neck and kissed the tender place behind her ear.
“Am I?” She let the shivers work their magic along her skin.
“Yes, ever since you disappeared down the lane this morning,” he said, guiding her to her feet. “And I don’t buy it for one second that you were chasing after a cat. Unless, of course, it was some lost relative of yours?”
“Wouldn’t be out of the question.”
“The possibility of truth in that statement still gives me a chill.”
She settled into his arms and kissed him. She didn’t wish to deceive Jean-Paul, yet how much could she divulge of her plans without him interfering? His devotion to Yvette was nil. He would try to persuade her to turn the girl in so she could get back to her work in the vineyard and be done with the whole ugly business. And she wanted that, too, only she rather thought they ought to go about it another way.
Before passion carried her too far, she pulled back, yet she kept her arms around his neck so she could feel the heat under his skin and the threading pulse keeping him alive. “Do you know about the Bibliothèque Suprême near the university?”
“Suprême?”
“It’s a witch’s library.”
“There’s a witch’s library near the university? The same one I attended?”
She nodded while trying to suppress a smile. “I’d like to show it to you tomorrow.”
“I’d very much like to see it. Among other things,” he added, slipping her robe off her shoulder to expose her skin.
The touch of his lips against her neck sent a flutter of ecstasy through Elena’s core. “I rather think your mother wouldn’t approve of you visiting my room at night.”
“Maybe you could work a sleeping spell on her so we can be alone.”
She considered it before giving him a mock slap against his chest. “You know I can’t do that. Besides, I feel as if I’m on some sort of probation as it is. With her and the court. This whole mess is Inspector Nettles’s doing, I’d wager.”
“Possibly, but I doubt he’d have the authority or means to coordinate this sort of political extortion against you. My guess is it’s someone higher up, though I can’t imagine what their game is, expecting you to turn in that strange girl in exchange for something that’s already yours.” Jean-Paul kissed her shoulder before closing her robe again. “And, only a hunch, but I’m guessing they keep a copy of The Treatise on the Code for Witches at this library where you’re hoping I might find a loophole in the law,” he said, touching his forehead to hers.
“Yes, darling, that would be wonderful. But it’s a restricted area. I’ll have to escort you, at least on the first visit.”
“Meaning they don’t allow mortals to wander the stacks unsupervised?”
A door clicked open down the hall. His mother was on the prowl.
“Exactly,” she whispered. “But you’re perfectly welcome to browse the shelves, once a witch sponsors your entrance.”
“I think half the time you’ve got me under a spell,” he said and agreed to look at the treatise.
“I believe they call it love.” She kissed him again, reconsidering the sleeping spell before thinking better of it. “But for now, you’d better go, mortal,” she said, her hand lingering in his before he said good night and slipped out the door.