The Taking (Seven Deadly Sins #3)(15)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“No.” Regan shook her head. “I don’t need a potion. I wanted to ask you a question, but first I want to thank you.”

Felix could feel the coil of tension in him tighten. “For what?”

“For the reading that night, at the Christmas party. I’m sure you had no idea that I was thinking about leaving my husband, and well, it sounds stupid, but when you asked to see my ring, and I took it off, the freedom I felt then was the push I needed to get the courage to leave. So thank you. I might still be with him if it weren’t for you.”

The hot burn of anger spread out through Felix’s body. When the hell would he ever learn? He should have never, ever gotten involved with Regan that night. He should have been smart and given her a generic reading, not brought up her ring, or her sister, or her free will. He had acted out of compassion and concern, but in this case it would only bite them both in the ass, and he had known that.

He’d known that.

But he’d done it anyway, because he had seen the pain in her eyes and he had been unable to stop himself.

Now they would both pay unless he made it clear he wasn’t worth her praise. “Don’t thank me. I didn’t do anything,” he told her gruffly.

“Oh, I know not intentionally,” she said, her fingers fiddling with a fertility doll in a bowl on the table to her right. “But . . .” She looked at him, so earnest, her dark eyes shining. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that because of you, I left.”

And may she never speak those words out loud again. “What did you want to ask me?” he said abruptly. “If it’s about your party, I already told your employee no.”

He was being rude and caustic, and he hated it, but it was the best thing to do. It would keep her away from him in the future. Trying to ignore the confusion on her face, he stared at her coldly, waiting for her response.

“Yes,” she said, clearing her throat. “It’s about my party. I know you told Jen no, but I was hoping that you would change your mind. It’s an important fund-raiser. All the proceeds go to the Save Our Cemeteries organization, which preserves and restores our historic cemeteries. The pay is more than reasonable, I think, and we’d only need you for two hours.”

“No.”

The pink on her cheeks deepened. He thought she would finally slink off, but Regan had more backbone than he’d given her credit for. She straightened her shoulders and asked, “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

Her lip curled at his behavior and they stared at each other for a long moment, before she looked away. It wasn’t fair. She was a beautiful, intriguing woman and he could only look, not touch.

Though why he would even bother to lament life’s unfairness at his age and experience was ludicrous. He knew better.

“I see.” Her voice was all wealthy ice princess. “Well, if it’s not too much trouble, would you at least point me in the direction of some research materials?” Regan lifted her bag and dug around in it, pulling out a black leather book. “I found this personal journal from the nineteenth century in my new house and I’d like to research some of the spells in it. I’m pretty sure they’re voodoo spells.”

Hating that he had put that reserve into her normally sweet and melodic voice, Felix put out his hand. “No, it’s not too much trouble. Can I see it?”

“Of course.” She handed him the book. “Thank you.”

He flipped the book open to the first page.

June 28, 1878. 1 received this journal for my twentieth birthday today as a gift from Mr. Tradd, the man my parents wish for me to marry. I imagine it will be so.

Felix’s entire body went still, heat rushing into his head, his mouth, the shock so palpable he could taste its acerbic bitterness on his tongue. No. It couldn’t be.

But he flipped a few pages and it was.Camille’s journal.

The voice of his long dead lover reaching out from the past in her formal handwriting and increasing madness. “Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice tight.

“In the chest of drawers in the house I just bought. The chest is original to the house, and it had a secret compartment, which is where this was hidden. A pretty cool find, isn’t it?”

Or disturbing, depending on your perspective. “Where is your house?”

He knew what she was going to say, even before the words left her mouth. Felix could picture the room in the house on Royal Street, the elaborate scrollwork on the chest of drawers shadowed by the many candles Camille had lit, his altar resting on top.

“Royal Street, here in the Quarter. It’s on the corner of Ursuline, the big gray house. I just bought it.”

“I think I know the one,” he said, trying to keep his voice normal, forcing his shoulders to relax. “It’s a beautiful house.”

“Thanks. The movers just left. I knew I didn’t have enough furniture to fill it, but I didn’t realize how much I really need to buy. I’m going to be an interior designer’s best friend for the next few months.”

What a horrible, ironic, coincidence that she would buy that house, of all the properties in the Quarter. Or maybe it wasn’t coincidence at all. So very few things were.

“I don’t see any spells in here,” he said, fingers gripping Camille’s journal, the innocent and innocuous words of the days before her family’s death blurring before him. It was painful to read even one of the bland, pleasant entries, devastating to realize what Camille had been when he had met her, and what she had become.

Guilt, for his greed, for his role in her madness and death, rose up in his throat, threatening to choke him.

“They start in the middle. I haven’t had a chance to really read the journal, I just found it last night, but when I have more time in the next few weeks, I’d like to research the spells, and see if I can figure out who the owner is.”

Felix flipped to the middle of the book, knowing precisely who the owner was.

To Cause a Rash

Boil the root and bark of a tree.

Drop in nine black peppercorns and boil it down again.

Sprinkle it over the person’s food.

“Can I keep the journal for a few days?” he asked. He wanted to see if there was any evidence of his existence in Camille’s life. That would be seriously unfortunate if she had addressed him by name in her journal.

She made a face of obvious reluctance. “Actually, I’d prefer to keep it myself. Maybe I could make some copies of it for you?”Regan was already reaching out her hand to take the book back, and Felix opened his mouth, having known he would even as he knew he shouldn’t. “How about I just meet you and we could go through it together?”