Chapter Eight
Seattle, Washington
The layer of fuel exhaust overpowered the salty air blowing in from the harbor somewhere nearby. The sharp heels of Quinn’s boots clicked and clacked across the sidewalk as she turned the corner onto the street of her destination. Skyscrapers and average Seattle buildings loomed over her, blocking most of her view of the cloudy skies above. What an average September. It seemed no matter where she went, Scotland or Seattle, she couldn’t escape the miserable clouds.
Playing the part of an average human, she tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat, shrugging into the fabric as if a sudden chill past over her body. Devon walked steadily behind her, his Shifter scent a constant reminder of his presence.
She paused at a seemingly aging red brick building. A mass of brown vines on its facade climbed toward the roof, attempting to find a modicum of sunshine. The simultaneously sweet, sour, and smoky scent of coffee beans wafted from the door as a couple customers exited. And leaning against the bricks was one ridiculously sexy man.
He watched her approach, his hands tucked comfortably into the pockets of his black parka. Ends of dark-blond hair stuck out from beneath his slouchy navy beanie. The wind shifted, pouring the scent of sulfur toward her. Its source? Guess.
“Stay here, Devon,” Quinn threw over her shoulder, not wanting to have him involved. Not with the potential in this man’s stare. The stranger dragged his hazel eyes over her body, and the hint of a smile tilted his gorgeous lips.
Quinn threw her hand out for a handshake. “Duval, I presume.”
The man’s smile widened farther, amusement in his gaze, but he still grasped her hand with his. “’Fraid not. I’m Aidan Wood.”
Confused, Quinn released her grip. She had e-mailed a Duval Koehan and asked for a meeting. All she’d gotten in reply was a date, time, and location for her to be. Aidan turned away, opening the front door and holding it for her to enter. Shaking off her shock, she walked into the warmth of the coffee shop.
“I was supposed to meet Mr. Koehan today, no?”
Aidan shrugged next to her. “I’m Duval’s”—he paused, searching for the right word—“apprentice.”
So, the coven’s Ceann was too good to meet with her. A Shifter of her prestige, of her power, of her wealth, came to his country, and he couldn’t even make time in his schedule for her. Her fingernails bit into her palms, and she suspected she drew blood. His voice broke through her thoughts.
“Are you getting a coffee?”
Quinn startled and remembered they were at the front counter. A young college girl with beautiful blonde hair pulled into a ponytail smiled at her. A blonde who reminded her of someone else, somebody she hated with her entire being. The aura emanating off Quinn, as well as whatever dirty look she was sure graced her face, wiped the smile off the perky blonde’s face.
“I’ll take a caramel macchiato,” Quinn bit out, but she felt better after having scared the human girl. Aidan and Quinn moved over to the pickup counter, waiting for their drinks to finish.
“Why couldna Duval meet me, then?” Quinn asked, anger lacing her tone.
Aidan looked at her from the sides of his eyes, an eyebrow raised. “Because he thought I’d be better suited meeting you.”
“So you know why I’m here?”
Aidan nodded and grabbed his drink when his name was called out. “Isla Hepburn contacted us a little before we received your e-mail.” He turned toward her, taking a sip of his drink before continuing. “We Witches are a close-knit group, you know.”
Isla. Of course she’d contacted the Seattle coven. Why had Quinn thought she would do anything else? Quinn waited in silence, not wanting humans to hear their conversation. When her drink was finally in her hands, she and Aidan made their way to a set of secluded chairs tucked in a corner of the shop.
“What can you tell me about the Faol Geal?” Quinn asked, settling back into the navy fabric chair. Her coffee burned the tip of her tongue, but she ignored the pain, relishing in the feel of anything besides her constant anger.
Aidan sighed, long and deep, probably a bit exaggerated if she were to be honest. “Well, since you’re looking for it, I doubt I know anything more than what you already do. Right, Quinn?”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “Really? There isna anything else ya can tell me about it besides what it does?”
Aidan shook his head. “Nope. Not even a little bit.”
Quinn bit the inside of her cheek. She’d traveled from Scotland to Seattle in order to hear a no from this little snot. Her wolf prowled within her, desperate to latch its teeth on the handsome guy in front of her. Instead, she cleared her throat.
“I had someone search the last known location of the Faol Geal only to come up empty-handed. If I had to guess, I’d say that someone took it.”
Aidan laughed, a short bark of a sound, and then set his coffee down on the table. “I think I know where this is going. You want me to find it for you. Cast a ‘wee little spell,’ and poof, you’ll snatch it up.”
Irritation bubbled in her stomach, especially when the foreigner mocked her accent. She absolutely hated when people did that. “Can ya do that?” The words were short, sharp, crisp, barely contained from the frustration that threatened to pour out of her.
“Nope. It’s against our laws,” Aidan said matter-of-factly. The words she’d feared hearing, the words that came out of Isla’s mouth, put her toes over the edge.
She gritted her teeth even as she spoke. “And why the hell not? That amulet is my birthright!”
Aidan studied her, a hint of a smirk hidden behind his coffee cup. “Is it really, though?”
Quinn leaned forward in her seat, setting her coffee on the table in order to resist the temptation of throwing it at him. “Listen here, ya wee bassa—”
“Now, now, let me just stop you right there.” Aidan paused, one eyebrow raised a fraction, but before Quinn could say another word, he continued, “Come on, really? We’re going to resort to name calling?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “You Shifters are always so emotional, not to mention predictable.”
“P-predictable?” Quinn stuttered, anger restricting her ability to speak. Her hands clenched into fists on her lap as she restrained herself. The humans in the building weren’t always as oblivious as paranormals liked to think they were.
Aidan waved, as if to hit away a pesky fly. “Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? At the moment, I have no idea where the Faol Geal is, and no, I won’t do a spell to find it.”
Quinn stared at him, imagining every single way she could murder him. Break his thin little neck, shift and claw him, tear into his smooth flesh. Humans be damned—she wanted the paranormals brought into the open anyway. Might as well get it out there now. But through the haze of fury she saw reason. She forced her body to calm down and soften from its tenseness, poised to spring.
“How much do I need to pay you to do the spell?” she asked. A lot of Witches sold their services. In fact, Quinn had quite the crew back in Scotland to help her out with menial tasks. Unfortunately, because Isla prevented them from helping her with this specific task, she couldn’t pay them even an exorbitant amount to do the spell.
Aidan’s gaze sharpened, his body tensing beneath his thick coat. His once jovial manner hardened to something fierce, and his lips tightened into a rigid line. “I do not sell my magic, and neither will anyone under Duval’s rule. We will not help and interfere in your Shifter matters. No amount of money is worth time in a magic prison.”
He looked around the coffee shop. Their interactions had drawn quite a few curious gazes from the humans lingering around. “Now, I think you should drag that pretty Scottish ass of yours back to where you came from. I’ll have some people on you to make sure you don’t give us any trouble.”
I’m being dismissed. The insult rang clear through her mind. Her spine stiffened, and her wolf wanted to take the little ass out. How dare he treat her this way? After she’d flown from so far away, when the coven could have just told her a no over an e-mail. But she doubted he was alone. Witches tended to hang out in small groups watching each other’s backs in case of an incident like she was planning.
She didn’t have the time to deal with that sort of situation. Sniffing, Quinn stood from her seat, taking her coffee with her. As she turned to leave, Aidan’s voice stopped her.
“I should mention”—he paused, tipping his coffee toward her like a salute—“the next time you want a favor, you may want to think twice before insulting the creator’s descendant. Especially with a word like bastard. Some take higher offense to that than others.”
His stare, like hardened steel, bored into hers. Quinn gritted her teeth and turned on her heel, storming out of the coffee shop and away from the insolent Warlock.