Read Online Vincent: Her Warlock Protector Book 5 by Hazel Hunter - Free Book Online
Authors: Hazel Hunter
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blinked at her. “But something has changed.” Beads of sweat appeared along her hairline and upper lip as the color drained away from her slack face. She swallowed hard. “I can’t—I won’t—tell you how I know, but please believe me when I say Lionel does not want to kill you. There is something bigger going on between him and Vincent. We’re just pieces to be moved out of the way. Do you have a grimoire?”
For a second Amanda almost defaulted to the lie she told every day.
“It’s a basket full of mess, but yeah, I have one.”
“Digitize it. Make yourself mobile. Then run.”
“I’m not running anywhere,” Amanda declared. “I am going to get my Daddy’s gun and the next time Lionel sets foot on the salon’s parking lot, he’s going to get blown out of his socks. This is Texas. I don’t have to put up with this shit.” Amanda stood up. “Running is your choice, but that,” words failed her for a moment, “ dumbass is not bringing melodrama to my front door.”
“Could you sit down again for a moment? There’s more I need to tell you.”
Amanda could not see what more there was to say, but sat down anyway.
“Seven or eight months ago, Vincent was assigned a case in St. Louis. There are a lot of rumors about what happened, but what I know is this: an extremely powerful witch named Sarah Kennedy disappeared after having a bit of a breakdown. Vincent was sent to deal with it. Lionel was there. Vincnet was hurt, but, he’s immortal, so…”
Amanda scowled at her.
“Bullshit. Sorry, Paulina, I really like you, but that’s just bullshit. I went to High School with Vincent. He’s far from immortal. I don’t care who he diddled or in what city. It didn’t suddenly make him immortal. Immoral, maybe, but not immortal.”
“The Sacred Union heals us and is our link to immortality.”
“I know we discussed the sacred union in classes, but immortality is through bearing children, not because you personally cannot be killed.”
“For normals, that is absolutely true. But for those of us born Wiccan, immortality is quite real.”
“If you could just see how Vincent looks right now–”
“Oh, we can be hurt.” Paulina’s breathing became rapid, fresh beads of sweat popped up along her brow to run down her neck from under her hair. “Were not vampires. Neither Templar nor Wiccan sacrifices their humanity for immortality. We can be hurt so badly.” And with that she stood.
Amanda jumped to her feet, the change in Paulina’s demeanor more alarming than what she had said. Paulina wrapped Amanda in an awkward, sideways hug, then turned on her heel and broke for the door. Caught off guard, Amanda was slow to react
“Paulina?”
Paulina flew to her car. A screech of tires against the concrete of the drive, and she was gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
BACK IN THE Mini, Amanda turned off her cell phone and drove. Not her normal breakneck tear through town, but a slow meander of back streets to the ferry port, through Port Bolivar, then back again. She made her way down the seawall, past her little rental house, where Vincent’s Charger sat in the drive, across the San Luis Bridge to Lake Jackson.
In Lake Jackson, she sat in a bookstore coffee shop, an un-drunk cup of cold coffee at her elbow, while she stared at the color saturated photographs which filled the glossy home décor magazines she had pulled from the stands. When the coffee shop closed, she drove across town to a twenty-four hour diner where she sat at the grimy counter and picked at food she did not want. It was while she sat soaking in the hot, greasy air of the tiny restaurant that she pulled her notebook and pen out of her bag, and got to work. She’d written for hours, until at last the sun was on the rise. Wearily, she got back in the Mini and drove from Lake Jackson back to Galveston. At San Luis Pass she turned her cell phone back on. There were texts and messages from Vincent which she ignored.
For a second Amanda almost defaulted to the lie she told every day.
“It’s a basket full of mess, but yeah, I have one.”
“Digitize it. Make yourself mobile. Then run.”
“I’m not running anywhere,” Amanda declared. “I am going to get my Daddy’s gun and the next time Lionel sets foot on the salon’s parking lot, he’s going to get blown out of his socks. This is Texas. I don’t have to put up with this shit.” Amanda stood up. “Running is your choice, but that,” words failed her for a moment, “ dumbass is not bringing melodrama to my front door.”
“Could you sit down again for a moment? There’s more I need to tell you.”
Amanda could not see what more there was to say, but sat down anyway.
“Seven or eight months ago, Vincent was assigned a case in St. Louis. There are a lot of rumors about what happened, but what I know is this: an extremely powerful witch named Sarah Kennedy disappeared after having a bit of a breakdown. Vincent was sent to deal with it. Lionel was there. Vincnet was hurt, but, he’s immortal, so…”
Amanda scowled at her.
“Bullshit. Sorry, Paulina, I really like you, but that’s just bullshit. I went to High School with Vincent. He’s far from immortal. I don’t care who he diddled or in what city. It didn’t suddenly make him immortal. Immoral, maybe, but not immortal.”
“The Sacred Union heals us and is our link to immortality.”
“I know we discussed the sacred union in classes, but immortality is through bearing children, not because you personally cannot be killed.”
“For normals, that is absolutely true. But for those of us born Wiccan, immortality is quite real.”
“If you could just see how Vincent looks right now–”
“Oh, we can be hurt.” Paulina’s breathing became rapid, fresh beads of sweat popped up along her brow to run down her neck from under her hair. “Were not vampires. Neither Templar nor Wiccan sacrifices their humanity for immortality. We can be hurt so badly.” And with that she stood.
Amanda jumped to her feet, the change in Paulina’s demeanor more alarming than what she had said. Paulina wrapped Amanda in an awkward, sideways hug, then turned on her heel and broke for the door. Caught off guard, Amanda was slow to react
“Paulina?”
Paulina flew to her car. A screech of tires against the concrete of the drive, and she was gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
BACK IN THE Mini, Amanda turned off her cell phone and drove. Not her normal breakneck tear through town, but a slow meander of back streets to the ferry port, through Port Bolivar, then back again. She made her way down the seawall, past her little rental house, where Vincent’s Charger sat in the drive, across the San Luis Bridge to Lake Jackson.
In Lake Jackson, she sat in a bookstore coffee shop, an un-drunk cup of cold coffee at her elbow, while she stared at the color saturated photographs which filled the glossy home décor magazines she had pulled from the stands. When the coffee shop closed, she drove across town to a twenty-four hour diner where she sat at the grimy counter and picked at food she did not want. It was while she sat soaking in the hot, greasy air of the tiny restaurant that she pulled her notebook and pen out of her bag, and got to work. She’d written for hours, until at last the sun was on the rise. Wearily, she got back in the Mini and drove from Lake Jackson back to Galveston. At San Luis Pass she turned her cell phone back on. There were texts and messages from Vincent which she ignored.
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