Waking The Serpent. Jane Kindred

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       Chapter 3

      Well, that had gone swimmingly. Rafe rubbed his hands over his face with a quiet groan. He’d actually called her a goddamn Girl Scout. And if she was a Girl Scout, he was having really inappropriate thoughts.

      The golden-haired, overgrown frat boy who’d arrived with Ione Carlisle held out his hand when Rafe glanced up, an overly confident smile showing professionally whitened teeth. Rafe had seen him at the temple earlier that week when the Conclave had convened.

      “Carter Hanson Hamilton.”

      Rafe shook the offered hand and tried not to roll his eyes. The name sounded like it should be a law firm all by itself.

      “The Covent has me on retainer, Mr. Diamante. Don’t worry—we’ll have you out of here in no time.”

      Rafe glanced at the high priestess—impeccably dressed and professional, she couldn’t have been more different from her sister. “I appreciate your coming down here, but I had things under control.”

      Hamilton answered for her. “I’m sure the younger Ms. Carlisle is a fine public defender, but you’re not exactly the public, Mr. Diamante. You can’t afford to make any mistakes here. The Covent takes care of its own.” Hamilton was still standing, which irked him unreasonably.

      Rafe got to his feet to meet him at eye level and leaned back against the wall with his arms folded—as if he hadn’t just been found with a dead woman and brought in on suspicion of murder. “I wasn’t aware I was still one of the Covent’s own. Did I not just get slapped with a scarlet W?”

      Ione spoke before Hamilton could cut her off again. “Rafe, the Covent has to take matters of doctrinal dissent seriously. We can’t all follow our own brand of the craft. That’s for Eclectics. As a respected member of the Sedona Coventry, you’re held to a higher standard. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to throw you to the wolves when you’re in trouble. Even if ignoring the wishes of the Covent is what put you there.”

      “Ione’s right.” Hamilton sat, leaving Rafe the only one standing. “This situation is a direct result of your oath-breaking, and I’m sure it’s brought home to you just why the proscription against allowing shades to continue to occupy the physical plane is in place. But the Covent intends to stand by you. We’re all unified on that front.”

      Rafe scowled. “Unified. Like you were when my apprentice spoke in support of my position at the Conclave.”

      Ione maintained a stern expression but the color in her high cheekbones wasn’t all cosmetic. “You had a responsibility to Matthew—to groom him and guide him, not fill his head with false doctrine.”

      “He made one misstep and you dismissed him from his apprenticeship.”

      The stern look faltered. “It was a misstep in front of the entire Conclave, Rafe. If I hadn’t responded swiftly and firmly, the entire Sedona Coventry would have been in jeopardy.”

      “Well, now he’s missing. You know that, right?” Rafe glanced at Hamilton, but his expression was neutral. “He disappeared right after you all presented your unified front against him. So I guess the Conclave won’t have to worry about my bad influence on him anymore.”

      “It’s an unfortunate situation, but ‘missing’ is a strong word. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. And I’d think that would be the least of your worries right now.” Carter gave him a patronizing smile. “Luckily, I’m on your team.”

      Rafe stifled a snort. Yay. Lucky him.

      * * *

      Rain battered the car as Phoebe drove through Oak Creek Village, letting the rhythmic thump and whine of the windshield wipers pound out a sort of mantra to exorcise her anger at Ione. Her big sister had been upstaging her all her life. And what had she done to deserve Ione’s scorn? Treated the dead like people and listened to them when they talked. Phoebe might be green, but she was a damned good lawyer, and Ione had no business swooping in to pat her on the back and usher her out like a precocious child.

      Ione had imagined herself an adult—and the only adult—from the day Phoebe was born. Only four years Phoebe’s senior, she seemed to think she’d raised Phoebe and their younger sisters, Theia and Rhea. Their mother would have begged to differ—if she’d been around to finish raising them, anyway.

      The white open-work Gothic spires of Covent Temple rose out of the misty backdrop of a huddle of low clouds against the improbably red hoodoos scattered around Bell Rock and Courthouse Butte. The less dramatic geological formations among which the temple nestled couldn’t be found on any tourist map. To the casual eye, the temple was effectively invisible, hidden by a glamour. But once seen, it teased with half-glimpsed visions, a mirage ever-approaching but never reached.

      It tended to be more visible the more it was brought to mind, and Ione’s slights had definitely brought the Covent and the temple to mind. Phoebe turned onto the brick-cobbled road almost without thinking, drawn by its presence. СКАЧАТЬ