different. Heading down the hall, she tried to clear her mind. If she slept, maybe she could start trying to make sense of all the noise in her head.
It was about to get added to, though.
“Hello, Leandra.”
Leandra hadn’t heard her, hadn’t scented her, hadn’t sensed her in any way. There were many reasons Agnes Milcher had been alive as long as she had; muffling her presence around any sort of predator was just one of them.
Not that the crazy old witch was any sort of prey—at least not to any predator with sense in his head.
As Leandra turned and faced the old woman behind her, she steeled herself. Looking into those faded blue eyes was the most disconcerting thing. It was like Agnes could see clear through a person, all the way through to their soul.
“Agnes. I thought you were staying in England,” Leandra said quietly.
Agnes beamed at Leandra. “I was, yes. But I left a few months ago.”
“Weren’t you sort of . . . uh . . .”
“Retired? Yes, yes, leastways I am supposed to be. But things have pulled me here. So here I am. But I do miss my home. Have you ever been to England, love?”
“Ahhh . . . no, no, I have not.” She had crossed the Atlantic Ocean exactly two times in her life, once to get to Italy, trying to outrun the Hunters, and once to return home to the States when it was obvious that running would do no good. She’d loved Italy, especially Rome, but being in such a beautiful city, all alone—the loneliness, the emptiness was so much worse.
Agnes patted her arm. “You should—lovely place, so full of power and strength,” she murmured. Her faded blue eyes took on a far-off look, and the smile slowly died away. “Lovely place.”
Then she blinked, shaking her head. The smile returned to her lips as she cocked her head and stared at Leandra. “My, you do look lovely, Leandra. Is Malachi treating you well?”
Leandra couldn’t suppress the snort, but she managed not to say anything else. Bastard ran her ragged, annoyed the hell out of her, and generally tried to drive her insane.
“Hmmm . . . if I didn’t know Mal, I wouldn’t know how to take that,” Agnes murmured, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “But I do know the man. You’ve managed not to kill him, though, or take a daylight walk just to get rid of him, so I’m going to assume it is going well.”
“It’s going.” That was about all Leandra would allow. Sometimes, I think it’s going straight to hell . . .
“You do look a bit tired, love. Busy night Hunting?” Agnes asked innocently. But the twinkle in her eyes had Leandra blushing. “Or maybe it wasn’t the night that has you so tired. And how is Mike doing?”
Leandra just blushed harder. Agnes smiled and reached up, patting Leandra’s cheek gently. “He’s a good man, a strong one. A kind one.”
To that, Leandra had no comment.
“Why don’t you go get some rest?” Agnes murmured, easing away. Her cane made soft, rhythmic taps on the floor as she headed down the hall. “I’ll be staying a few days. I’d love to have some time to talk.”
Not saying anything, Leandra turned around and walked toward her room.
Yeah, she was tired. Very much so. She wasn’t the only one, though. Glancing over her shoulder, she stared at the old witch’s diminutive figure.
Her head was bowed low, her frail shoulders slumping a bit more than normal. Agnes had looked tired. Downright exhausted.
Leandra had met up with the old witch several times over the past few years, and she couldn’t ever recall seeing Agnes look even a little tired. But now, exhaustion seemed to have carved even heavier lines in her face, and her eyes looked a bit more faded, her shoulders a little more slumped.
Leandra started to turn the doorknob, looking away from the other witch. But then she paused and looked back.
The air around her turned to ice, and her breath froze in her lungs.
For one second, Leandra couldn’t see Agnes.
Just a black cloud of
It was about to get added to, though.
“Hello, Leandra.”
Leandra hadn’t heard her, hadn’t scented her, hadn’t sensed her in any way. There were many reasons Agnes Milcher had been alive as long as she had; muffling her presence around any sort of predator was just one of them.
Not that the crazy old witch was any sort of prey—at least not to any predator with sense in his head.
As Leandra turned and faced the old woman behind her, she steeled herself. Looking into those faded blue eyes was the most disconcerting thing. It was like Agnes could see clear through a person, all the way through to their soul.
“Agnes. I thought you were staying in England,” Leandra said quietly.
Agnes beamed at Leandra. “I was, yes. But I left a few months ago.”
“Weren’t you sort of . . . uh . . .”
“Retired? Yes, yes, leastways I am supposed to be. But things have pulled me here. So here I am. But I do miss my home. Have you ever been to England, love?”
“Ahhh . . . no, no, I have not.” She had crossed the Atlantic Ocean exactly two times in her life, once to get to Italy, trying to outrun the Hunters, and once to return home to the States when it was obvious that running would do no good. She’d loved Italy, especially Rome, but being in such a beautiful city, all alone—the loneliness, the emptiness was so much worse.
Agnes patted her arm. “You should—lovely place, so full of power and strength,” she murmured. Her faded blue eyes took on a far-off look, and the smile slowly died away. “Lovely place.”
Then she blinked, shaking her head. The smile returned to her lips as she cocked her head and stared at Leandra. “My, you do look lovely, Leandra. Is Malachi treating you well?”
Leandra couldn’t suppress the snort, but she managed not to say anything else. Bastard ran her ragged, annoyed the hell out of her, and generally tried to drive her insane.
“Hmmm . . . if I didn’t know Mal, I wouldn’t know how to take that,” Agnes murmured, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “But I do know the man. You’ve managed not to kill him, though, or take a daylight walk just to get rid of him, so I’m going to assume it is going well.”
“It’s going.” That was about all Leandra would allow. Sometimes, I think it’s going straight to hell . . .
“You do look a bit tired, love. Busy night Hunting?” Agnes asked innocently. But the twinkle in her eyes had Leandra blushing. “Or maybe it wasn’t the night that has you so tired. And how is Mike doing?”
Leandra just blushed harder. Agnes smiled and reached up, patting Leandra’s cheek gently. “He’s a good man, a strong one. A kind one.”
To that, Leandra had no comment.
“Why don’t you go get some rest?” Agnes murmured, easing away. Her cane made soft, rhythmic taps on the floor as she headed down the hall. “I’ll be staying a few days. I’d love to have some time to talk.”
Not saying anything, Leandra turned around and walked toward her room.
Yeah, she was tired. Very much so. She wasn’t the only one, though. Glancing over her shoulder, she stared at the old witch’s diminutive figure.
Her head was bowed low, her frail shoulders slumping a bit more than normal. Agnes had looked tired. Downright exhausted.
Leandra had met up with the old witch several times over the past few years, and she couldn’t ever recall seeing Agnes look even a little tired. But now, exhaustion seemed to have carved even heavier lines in her face, and her eyes looked a bit more faded, her shoulders a little more slumped.
Leandra started to turn the doorknob, looking away from the other witch. But then she paused and looked back.
The air around her turned to ice, and her breath froze in her lungs.
For one second, Leandra couldn’t see Agnes.
Just a black cloud of
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