Cult of the Covens (Sleuths of Shadow Salon book 3) by Catherine Stine

Author:Catherine Stine
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9798989785018
Publisher: Konjur Road Press

Chapter

Fifteen

Shit! What now? Should I wait for Renzo or try a different approach tomorrow? Time’s running out. Not all leads pan out. Is this trip wasted? Celestine flashed on her earlier decision to stay calm and compassionate if she spoke to Renzo. If he deigns to speak to me again, it’s clear I need to speak to his trauma. Though there was a fine balance between too much pandering and posing a threat. For a mad moment, Celestine fantasized using a possession spell to lure Renzo into following her, listening to her. But the thought of using persuasion magic to bewitch a man into hearing her out was cringe, was something better used for thieves, hardened villains. Celestine sighed and began a slow walk back to the hotel. Crossing the trolley lines at Canal and heading toward Bienville Street, she made her way past a small park by a church.

As she did, her phone rang. She grabbed it from her pocket. Caller Unknown. She pressed answer. Intuitively, she knew. “Hello? Renzo?”

“Tha’s it. Where are you?” The voice was hard but not solid ice.

Her head spun, so difficult to think. “I just passed a church.” Renzo mentioned a name. “Yeah, that’s the one,” she replied.

“There’s a bench in a small garden along its side. Be there. I’ll give you five minutes.”

“Thank y—” He’d hung up. Why his sudden shift? Maybe he would explain.

She found the narrow garden. Glad to see it had hedge cover amongst the flowers. Ever since she’d seen the ephemeral figures emerge from Dr. Wise’s condo elevator, she hadn’t been able to shake that creepy-crawly feeling someone might be tracking her. And she’d need to stick to the point. Not much could be crammed into five minutes.

The dull clop of footsteps sounded. Celestine peered out from behind the hedges. Renzo marched her way, holding the rolled-up sketch in one fist. Facing her, he offered no hello, just a glower. “Why are you stalking me?”

“Because of your sister.”

“We don’t speak. Haven’t for years. Her business is hers.”

“Someone, or some people, are trying to ruin her. Possibly murder her.” Celestine paused to let that land. Renzo wore a poker face, though his alarm was a sharp buzz to her solar plexus. He had no magic. She’d sniffed that out back at the cantina. Renzo was distinctly human, unlike Tavia. But his emotions were on fire under his mild veneer. She went on. “I’m trying to find out who her enemies are. Put a stop to their malicious deeds before someone gets killed. A woman you once knew in NOLA said you’re aware of who Tavia’s enemies were, still are.”

Renzo snorted. “So, Tavia did hire you and order you to come down here. She knows I want nothing to do with her.”

“Wrong. She has no idea I’m here.”

“Oh, really?” he said scathingly. Then, with a lilt of curiosity, “Who’s the lady you say I once knew?”

“Asphodel Ash.”

Another rush of complex emotion from Renzo—a mix of nostalgia and stinging hurt? “Who was Asphodel to you?” Celestine asked him.

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