Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(64)

What the hell did he think he was going to do with the Triodecad? Did he think he could just open it and recite a spell like he was reading a Betty Crocker recipe?

No. Whatever else Jason was, he wasn’t stupid. He knew he would need a crafter to help him. The concept of paying someone to cast a spell—magic for hire—was as old as time. From Jason’s point of view, stealing the Triodecad was a Hail Mary play, a gamble with no downside. As he had told her the previous night, he was already living on borrowed time. He intended to do exactly as he pleased, and then talk Justine into forgiving him. Fat chance, she thought darkly.

Struggling to her feet, Justine went to her bedroom. She pulled on some leggings and an oversized tee. Her gaze went to the dark space beneath the bed, and her chin trembled. She hadn’t been separated from the Triodecad since Marigold had given it to her.

Justine left her cottage and went to the empty inn. The Inari group was gone, and Zoë wasn’t coming until the afternoon. Four of the rooms had been booked for the weekend, but that was a couple of days away.

Bounding up the stairs, Justine went to the Klimt room. Jason had left nothing behind. No note. No message on her phone. The covers had been drawn up neatly over the bed. Justine sat on the mattress and dialed Priscilla. It was especially galling that Justine didn’t even have Jason’s cell number and had to reach him through his assistant.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she said to herself through gritted teeth. “Justine Hoffman, do not ever sleep with a man without getting his phone number first.”

At the moment, Priscilla and Jason and the others were on the company plane, flying back to San Francisco. Or maybe the Inari group was going to San Francisco and Jason was heading somewhere else. With the Triodecad. Damn him, what was he going to do with it?

The call clicked through to Priscilla’s voice mail, directing her to leave a message. “Priscilla,” she said tersely, “have Jason call me as soon as possible. He has something that belongs to me. I want it back.”

Ending the call, Justine flopped back on the bed. She tried to think of what to do next. Undoubtedly she should call Rosemary and Sage for guidance, but the idea of having to confess how monumentally she had screwed up … that she had lost possession of one of the most revered grimoires in the Tradition … no. No way. She would handle this on her own. It was her mess, her fault, and she would deal with the fallout.

Continuing to lie on the bed, she redialed Priscilla and left another message. “It’s me again. This is important, Priscilla: Tell Jason he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s going to put himself and possibly other people in danger. Make him call me right away.”

Fuming, Justine ended the call and stared at the ceiling. Priscilla had to know something about what Jason was planning. He had probably put her in charge of finding someone who could work a spell. And Justine was pretty certain that Priscilla wouldn’t let the questionable morality of Jason’s plans bother her. She was too ambitious to let anything get in the way of her career. Whatever Jason wanted, Priscilla would do without hesitation.

I have to reach him before he tries anything.

Arrogant, lying lowlife … the question of what Jason might do with the Triodecad in his possession, given half a chance … the possibilities were appalling.

As she tried to keep from thinking the unthinkable, Justine was infuriated to discover that she was unconsciously rubbing her cheek against Jason’s pillow, subconsciously trying to derive comfort from the scent of him. Hades’ bones. Grabbing the pillow, she hurled it against the wall.

* * *

To expend some of her rampaging energy, Justine spent three hours replacing a couple of old damaged floor planks in the dining room. It was a project she’d kept on the back burner, until she found the right time to take care of it. Now was as good a time as any. She took particular enjoyment in pounding the new planks into place with a rubber mallet, imagining she was hammering parts of Jason Black’s anatomy.

When her phone rang, Justine’s heart began to slam hard against her ribs. An unfamiliar number appeared on the tiny screen. She fumbled to press the “accept call” button, and held it up to her ear.

“Hello?”

Conflicting emotions coursed through her as she heard Jason’s infuriatingly calm voice. “You know why I did it.”

“Yes, I know why. And it doesn’t make you any less of a sneaky, self-serving shithead. Where are you?”

“Traveling.”

“Traveling to where?”

“East Coast.”

“Where on the East Coast?”

“We’ll talk about that later.”

Justine burned with indignation. “I want my book back now. The Triodecad isn’t going to do you any good. You don’t understand the first thing about magic—this is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“You’ll have the book back soon.”

“The next time I see you, I will Taser you with my bare hands!”

His tone turned gently cajoling. “I understand why you’re upset.”

“Yeah, funny how I tend to overreact when I’m robbed.”

“I didn’t steal it. I borrowed it.”

“Oh, please,” she said wrathfully, and hung up.

In fewer than thirty seconds, her phone rang again. Justine answered it without preamble. “Tell me who’s going to do the spell-casting, or I’ll hang up again.”