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But, just in case, I tighten my hold. That must be good enough for Remy because he flashes me another grin, then starts chanting under his breath. I close my eyes, not sure if my stomach can handle what it’ll look like to transport to the other side of the woods, and when he stops, tapping my hand again as a signal that we’ve arrived, I’m actually surprised to see the front of the manor house about thirty feet away from where we are.
Talk about deja vu. The only difference is that Marie isn’t waiting primly on the top step in front of the double French doors like she was. Instead, there are two witches: a woman with dark hair, and Armand.
Just peachy.
Leaving the other witch at the door, Armand eases down the step as Remy and I approach the entrance.
He nods at Remy. “Madame thanks you. I’ll take it from here.”
For a moment, I expect the younger witch to argue. If anything, he brought me here, and I would’ve thought he’d want to show off to my grandmother that he accomplished this task.
But I guess it’s not fun goading me with an audience because he nods, then lowers his elbow, allowing my arm to fall at my side. Nodding at Armand in return, he murmurs that he has something else he has to take care, then bounds up the stairs.
Armand waits until he’s gone before he gestures in the same direction. “Come along, dearie. Your grandmother is waiting.”
Oh, goody.
CHAPTER 14
WHAT I MUST
Armand and the female witch flank me as I’m brought inside of the manor.
On the one hand, I’m glad. Every second I spent with Remy was worse than the one before it, and just thinking about how easily he tried to touch me has my stomach going queasy. I didn’t react the way I wanted to only because he smarmily called ‘truce’, but, oh, did I want to.
On the other hand, though, I don’t trust Armand. Having the male witch pretend to be a good samaritan so he could steal my blood isn’t something I think I’ll ever be able to get over. Add that to how he was there when Marie left me tied up for the beast and it’s no surprise that I edge a little closer to the woman.
And maybe I do that because she gulps any time I get within a few inches of her, like she’s nervous to be near me, but struggling to do what she’s been ordered to.
Hey. Small pleasures, right?
They leave me in front of a closed door. Armand knocks, and after my grandmother’s accented voice calls out for me to enter, they back away.
Taking a deep breath, setting my shoulders so that Marie doesn’t immediately try to intimidate me, I shove the door in.
Like always, she’s wearing a champagne-colored satin dress that fits her perfectly. Her pale hair is done up in an immaculate chignon, her make-up and manicure on point. She was sitting with her legs crossed on a stool next to her sewing machine when I pushed the door open, rising up on her high heels in order to greet me.
The first words out of my mouth are, “Where is Jeannie?”
I don’t see her anywhere. There are dummies in one corner, an industrial sewing machine in another, and a low table piled upon with fabric and other materials. No Jeannie, though, and that pisses me off.
Where the hell is she?
Instead of answering me, Marie primly says, “Shut the door, Jolie.”
“My name is Fallon.”
She purses her lips, waiting expectantly.
Fine. She wants to play this game? What? Unless I do what I’m told, I won’t get to see Jeannie? Freaking fine.
I spin on my heel, about to shove the door closed with my palms when she tuts.
“Non. No. Don’t use your hands.”
“Then how the hell do you want me to close it? My shoe?”
Marie frowns, her sense of disapproval only adding to my nerves.
