Melt by Michele Barrow-Belisle

Author:Michele Barrow-Belisle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BarBelle Publishing

Chapter Seventeen

I’ve never been driven by a sense of duty or heroism, but sometimes you just have to listen to your gut and ignore everything else.

That was the impulse that drove me to go in after Abby. Before I had the chance to reconsider my actions, I was in the room, the door firmly shut behind me.

Abby scowled, but the puffy man across from her merely smiled.

“Isobel. How lovely that you could join us. I’ve heard great things about you.”

I cocked my head. “Hm. Really? That’s odd, because I'm kind of a witch.” I smiled.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, well . . . please, come in.”

I stared at him as I moved further into the room. “I’m not exactly from around here, so how do you know my name? Have we met?”

“No, not directly, but I am familiar with your work,” he said pleasantly. “You did quite a number on the music teacher. And Drearyton Cove's forests may never fully recover from your affects. Neither will its beloved diner, I'm told.”

My muscles solidified. “Yes, well, we're working on that.” I gave Abby a pointed look, a silent reminder of why I was here at all. Seeing the Lemon Balm rebuilt was the least I could do to atone.

My attention glided back to Peterson. He did look familiar—and his was a face worth remembering. Behind the smiling eyes and jovial laugh was the blackened heart of hatred and malice. It nearly seeped from his pores, and at the moment, it seemed fully aimed at me.

He shifted back to Abby while motioning for me to join them. The room they’d found my great aunt in had a very different interior. Gone was the lopsided bed and cheap, faded furnishings. I glanced at the wall. Not a trace of the hateful word they’d written with her blood.

They were seated around a boardroom table, in an office far more lavish than its shabby exterior hinted at. Broad wooden slats were propped up by thick straight legs and surrounded by six white leather chairs.

I pulled out a seat next to Abby, dropped into it, then propped my high-heeled feet up on the table.

Peterson’s jaw tensed, but he remained focused on Abby. “Abigail, I understand you requested this meeting because you have questions for me.”

“Many of them,” she began, as she fiddled with the little packet in her pocket.

Her little truth serum. Really. I blew out an exasperated sigh. “Look,” I interrupted. “You met with Lorelei and promised her some pretty impossible things. How? How do you—” I pointed my pinky at him, “—have the power to take magic from a person's soul?”

Peterson’s expression hardened as he turned to me.

“Let me stop you right there, Isobel. Or would you prefer Venus?”

“Speaker’s choice,” I replied.

“Your question comes from a flawed premise. There are no people with magic in their souls. Only monsters. We offered Lorelei an opportunity to extract the poison staining her soul and preventing her from being fully human. It seems a choice anyone of your kind would jump at, given the opportunity.

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