“Aurele Telluride.”
The former advisor to the King of Atlantis? Bending, he picked up the frame. “I didn’t know about her. Only the girl.”
“You better be telling me the truth, leviathan.” Reva stared him down, the hard, black glint of her pupils issuing a silent challenge to defy her. Her motions angry, she ripped the picture from his grasp and glared at the smiling pair. “Look at how smug she is, thinking she’s bested me. Sentencing me to rot all those years in squalor in that prison while she no doubt lived the high life.”
Recalling the opulence he’d recently rescued the duchess from, he smothered a snort.
A calculating smile stretched Reva’s mouth. “You know, it’s just occurred to me that we no longer have need of the girl.”
“What do you mean?” There was no way he’d forget about the Jameson girl. Not when that fucking shark had payback coming to him.
“Don’t get me wrong. That half-breed atrocity is going to die, as will the rest of the humans. But Aurele Telluride knows full well where the trident is. I’d stake my life on it.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
Reva didn’t appear pleased at having such a possibility brought to her attention. “Then we will use Aurele as collateral, you imbecile. Bring her to me.”
He glared at the duchess. Forget ruling at her side. First chance he got, he was offing the crazy bitch. “That will require an address. Something we obviously don’t have.”
“Don’t give me that nonsense. You’re a leviathan. You can teleport with a visual link.” She thrust the picture at him. “That should be more than adequate.”
Yes, for those of his species who were more skilled than him. He had no problem popping from one dimension to another, but teleporting to various land coordinates? Not his strong suit. It was just one of the many reasons he hated being earthbound. It leached him of power, made him feel weak.
He despised feeling weak.
“What’s troubling you, leviathan? Can you not do this one simple task?” The taunting quality of her tone made him consider ripping her eyeballs out.
Adding that future pleasure to his to-do list, he focused on the picture, mentally imprinting each minute detail of the landscape into the cells of his transport cortex. The corresponding tingle shivered along his limbs, but he didn’t budge from the spot he stood in. Reva’s mocking laughter assaulted his ears. Growling, he stared harder at the images on the photo paper. Still nothing.
“You stupid, worthless leviathan. You can’t even—”
In the blink of an eye he went from glaring at the duchess, to glaring at…a very hairy man in obscenely tight jogging shorts. Grimacing, Harrison pivoted, wishing he possessed a bottle of acid to wash the sight from his eyes. Across from him stood the house from the photo. A sweet note of triumph sang through his veins.
He did it!
Cackling in glee, he raced across the street. He didn’t know what excited him more, being one step closer to world domination, or making the crazy bitch eat crow.
Max paced restlessly in Boone’s examining room, desperately trying to get his thoughts organized enough to figure out what their next plan of attack should be. He’d placed a call to Justin and apprised him of the situation. The young duke’s skepticism had been readily apparent, but at least he hadn’t hung up on Max. The good news was he’d gotten through to Justin enough to gain the duke’s promise to get on the horn with the royal army and find out what the hell they knew about the situation. It’d taken some doing, but he’d also convinced Justin to dispatch some troops to Tybee.
His cell phone buzzed, and he glanced at the caller ID. It wasn’t a number he recognized. He clicked the Talk button. “Hello?”
“Sheriff Maxwell Truitt?”
“Yes.” From the corner of his eye, he noticed Willa staring at him. Guessing that she was hopeful it was Aurele, he shook his head. Her shoulders slumped.
“This is General Lessway. The Duke of Atlanta informed me there’s a problem gathering in your jurisdiction.”
Max grunted. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“It’s been brought to my attention that sometime early this morning, Reva Bellemuir escaped her cell and massacred twenty of my men. You have my full support and cooperation with anything you require.”
By great force of will, Max kept from grinding his teeth. “That’s coming twenty-two years too late, wouldn’t you say? None of this would be happening if Reva Bellemuir had been brought to trial.”
“You think I don’t agree with you? Damn it, Sheriff, you more than anyone should understand my frustration with the leash these royals keep me on.”
“A leash that’s no doubt lined with plenty of cold hard cash.”
The general chose not to comment upon Max’s assessment, instead giving his word that he planned to leave Florida ASAP and meet his troops in Tybee. Hanging up, Max eyed Willa and Boone. “Well, the good news is reinforcements are on their way, for whatever help they’ll be.” He tried not to focus on the dead soldiers Reva had apparently taken out. Probably better not to tell Willa about that. She already had enough stress on her plate.
“M-maybe we should drive back to Atlanta and pick up Aurele.”
He took one look at Willa’s pale face and knew she didn’t stand a prayer of relaxing until she verified with her own eyes that the older woman was safe. Nodding, he glanced at Boone. “Any chance we can borrow your Land Rover?”
“I’ll do you better than that—I’ll drive.”
He exchanged a long look with Boone. “You’re placing yourself in the middle of something that could get you killed. Not sure I like that idea.”
“Look at it this way. If I go out in a blaze of glory, my old man will be so damn proud, he’ll probably piss himself.”
Boone’s father had been sheriff of parish nine for thirty plus years before Max took over. The stories about him were legendary. There wasn’t a bad guy Quaid Forrester wasn’t prepared to put the hurt on, and he had the scars to prove it. “What is it with you damn seals? You’ve all got death wishes.”
“Yep.” Grinning, Boone patted his pocket. “But we’ve also got the keys to the car.”
Max knew well enough when he was defeated. “Fine. But I get to drive, damn it.”
Three and a half hours later he pulled into Aurele’s driveway for the second time that day. He’d never racked this much road mileage in such a short period of time. It was starting to wear on him. Which might account for why he didn’t immediately notice that Aurele’s sedan wasn’t in the drive. “Doesn’t look like she’s home.”
“It’s all right,” Willa piped from the backseat. “I’ve got a key.” She was out of the vehicle and halfway up the porch steps before he even opened his door.
“She doesn’t ever slow down, does she?”
He slid Boone a wry look. “You have no idea.”
They both climbed from the Land Rover just as Willa’s frantic cry shot from the vicinity of the house. Max slammed his door shut and raced toward the sound. He leapt over the threshold of the entry, dread knocking him dead square in the solar plexus as he took in the chaotic state of the living room. The coffee table was smashed to smithereens, the couch flung onto its back end. Across the way, a floor lamp protruded from the television screen.
Boone stepped up beside him, his eyes wide. “Holy shit.”
“Reva was here.” Willa spun toward them, her face awash with fear and horror. “She has Aurele!”
“There’s no way she could have gotten here before us,” Max pointed out. And how would Reva have even known where to find Aurele anyway? Of course, he was still baffled by Reva showing up at the stationhouse. It was as if she’d had some inside source about his involvement with Willa. But other than Aurele, Willa’s friend from the Witches Alliance, and Boone, nobody had even seen him with—