Bewitching The Dragon. Jane Kindred

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СКАЧАТЬ which her reflection was inverted. An angel on the head of a pin. Or a demon.

      With a murmured incantation, she set the ruby bead floating above her fingertip. It was a simple trick, one of the first she’d learned. A trick for slumber parties when she was a girl. Light as a feather, stiff as a board. She’d thought then it was her own affinity for magic that had made it come so easily to her. It was because of that affinity that she’d started on the path that had led her to the Covent.

      She’d come to believe in magic as a gift, and an art to be learned, not some kind of transgressive aberration. But this tainted blood was where her magical aptitude had come from, not hours of practice and months of apprenticeship; not innate talent. Not a gift from God.

      Even so, it had allowed her to do what she loved. And if the Covent was going to take that away from her, she intended to walk into the temple as Ione Carlisle, high priestess of the Sedona Coventry, with her head held high.

      She dressed in a crisp, white blouse and slim-cut black pants fresh from the dry cleaner’s, topped with a black, flared, knee-length frock coat with delicate gray pinstripes. Presenting a confident, authoritative air was crucial in maintaining the respect of her coven, and Ione never left the house without making sure she was representing the office of high priestess with the utmost solemnity—when she left in her own face, at any rate. A light layer of foundation, a pale smudge of blush, a swipe of mascara across her bottom lashes and a dab of clear, matte gloss across her lips conveyed both professionalism and a certain understated grace.

      * * *

      The parking lot of Covent Temple was full when she arrived. As Calvin had implied, every member of the Sedona Coventry must have received a summons. Yet the Covent hadn’t seen fit to inform their high priestess. Tears slammed against the backs of her eyes as she paused inside the atrium, and she dug her fingernails into her palms to keep them from going any farther. This was it. She was going to lose everything. Carter Hamilton had kneecapped her from behind bars without even trying.

      Ione deepened her breath and exhaled the frailty of ego. She’d been elected to serve the needs of the magical community, not as some kind of merit badge or status symbol. If what the coven needed to heal from Carter’s betrayal was for Ione to step down as high priestess, she would do it graciously. Even if it meant collapsing into a quivering heap on her bathroom floor when she got home and sobbing until she was sick. And then picking herself up and getting a job in the real world.

      When she entered the temple, the rest of the coven members were seated on the comfortable benches that lined the aisles. The temple had been built with much the same design as a Catholic church—the Covent’s origins steeped in the religion from which it had emerged—but its pews were for comfort not worship. So maybe this wasn’t a ritual defrocking, after all; if they meant to perform any kind of ceremony, they’d be gathered in a formal circle at the altar.

      All eyes turned to her as she came up the aisle—including a pair that were a glittering tiger’s-eye golden brown.

      Ione stopped still, blood rushing to her cheeks as well as to other more inconvenient and intimate places. It was impossible, but there he was, seated among them, just a little apart from the rest: last night’s epic bad judgment. When he rose, the others rose with him.

      The golden-brown eyes widened slightly at the sight of her, and she was certain for a mortifying instant that he’d somehow seen through the glamour last night. He knew exactly who she was. But the expression was gone just as quickly with no hint of recognition in his eyes, only grim determination.

      “Dione Carlisle?” He’d pronounced her given name as “Dee-ohn”—which was the reason she’d changed it.

      She willed herself to behave like someone who hadn’t just run smack into the man she’d sucked off in a parking lot the night before while wearing another woman’s face. “I go by Ione, actually. But I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Her cheeks throbbed at the unfortunate word choice, and he studied her with a peculiar expression.

      With a slight, formal bow, he held out his hand. “Dharamdev Gideon. The Leadership Council sent me.” Ione’s heart sank. So this was her replacement, after all.

      His skin tingled with magical energy as she shook his hand. She should have recognized it last night, the vibrational hum his proximity—and his touch—had set off inside her. It was magic—ordinary magical ability and not the pulsing tremor of some karmic sexual connection. She tried to ignore how the warm vibration of his skin touched off that answering warmth inside her that was decidedly more carnal than spiritual. And to ignore the enticing scent of his skin.

      Realizing she’d held his hand a moment longer than necessary, Ione released it.

      His expression masked, Dev clasped his hands behind his back, his deep-charcoal suit obviously tailored, as it accommodated his movements with perfect ease. “I’m the Covent assayer. I assume they told you I was coming.”

      Ione tried to make sense of the words. She’d thought for sure he was the new interim high priest. But maybe he was just some kind of number-cruncher or efficiency expert. Maybe the world wasn’t ending.

      “No, I’m afraid they didn’t, Mr. Gideon. Assayer...what is that, exactly?”

      Dev cleared his throat and drew himself up tall as he straightened his raw silk tie in dark teal, his face expressing disapproval—and a touch of what looked suspiciously like disgust. “The Covent seeks to determine what role you may have played in the infiltration of the necromancer Carter Hamilton. I’m here to evaluate your failure of leadership, Miss Carlisle, and to decide on an appropriate punishment.” His cheeks seemed to color, but only for an instant. “Penalty.”

      The furious heat in Ione’s cheeks was undoubtedly far more obvious. The Covent leaders apparently intended to treat her like a naughty child. The sense of resignation and grief at what she’d believed she was about to lose was quickly giving way to umbrage.

      “I see.” Ione put her hands in the pockets of her coat to keep the angry tremble from showing. “I take it my account of the events is in question. I suppose that’s not entirely a surprise, given that none of the Council members was here to witness what happened. But the police accepted my account, Mr. Gideon. And Mr. Hamilton himself confessed that he alone was responsible for his actions. I’m sure any of the members of my coven can tell you what an act he put on, how he fooled us all.”

      She glanced at her fellow coven members to be sure they were still on her side. A few looked embarrassed but no one was avoiding her gaze.

      “I’m not proud of being fooled, and I’ll accept whatever censure the Covent deems fit to mete out for that failing, but I can assure you, Mr. Gideon, that I did nothing unethical.”

      Dev gave her a condescending smile. “I will, of course, be interviewing every member of the coven at length. But by your own account, your actions were anything but ethical. You used unauthorized magical influence on a Covent member—”

      “A Covent member who happened to be a necromancer, Mr. Gideon. Who was in the act of attempting to murder my sister and another member of my coven.”

      “Unauthorized influence.” The gemstone eyes seemed to crackle with intensity. “There are no exceptions to this rule. Rafael Diamante subdued him with the very necromancy of which you’ve accused Hamilton, and it appears from your account that you helped Diamante do it.”

      Ione’s mouth dropped open and she had to work to get her jaw to function normally. And to respond without СКАЧАТЬ