Logan chuckled. “Somehow I don’t think that’s the reason.” He joined her and Floyd on the step. The mutt took that as a sign that he needed another hand scratching him on the rump. Pretty soon the rhythmic thumping of his tail provided a backbeat to the chirping birds. Logan cleared his throat. “It’s not going to be easy convincing the guild to reverse Catman’s sentence. Just thought you should know that going in.”
She jutted her chin forward. “I’ll do whatever it takes to bring him back.”
Logan’s mouth slid into a grin. “Damn, kind of wish I could be a fly on the wall during this showdown.” He gave Floyd a final pat before hefting to his feet. “Why don’t you come inside? Gloria’s got a big spread planned for brunch.”
Floyd cocked his head up with an excited woof. Logan wagged a finger at the dog. “The invitation was for the lady.”
Jemma shook her head. “Thank you, but food and I aren’t exactly on good speaking terms right now.”
“Gloria’s going to be devastated. You know she still feels guilty about what happened, for fallin’ so easily under Nettie’s mind control. This is her way of trying to make up for it.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.” Almost from the time they’d gotten home last night, the cook had been trying to ply her with biscuits and cookies. A side of ham. Whatever happened to be close at hand. She sighed and sent Logan a resigned look. “I’ll be in shortly.”
Giving a nod of acknowledgment, he left her with Floyd. She ran her fingers through the scruff of fur along the dog’s neck, her attention returning to the Pathfinder across the way. “I’m bringing him back to me, Floyd. No matter what it takes.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The stately Italianate manor housing the southern headquarters for the National Alliance of Witches wasn’t as big and imposing as Jemma had thought it would be. For starters, it was half the size of the Beaumont coven house. Still, the building that sat nestled in the heart of one of Savannah’s historic squares held a quaint charm. If not for the imposing mission facing her, she would have enjoyed just hanging out in the tropical oasis of the front courtyard.
“Ready?”
She met Clarissa’s worried look. “Absolutely.” Hopefully the conviction she’d injected in the word would transfer to her jittery nerves. Smoothing the hem of her top, she followed Clarissa past the arched entryway. They entered a spacious front vestibule. An enormous palm-shaped ceiling fan briskly stirred the air overhead, providing a cool, pleasant contrast to the mugginess outside. A young woman sporting a brunette bob and tortoise-frame glasses sat at a small desk situated in front of another doorway. She glanced up from her computer when they approached.
Clarissa brushed aside her bangs before flicking her gaze toward the closed door. “I trust they’re waiting for us in there, Willa?”
“Yes. And be warned. Domino is in a regular snit today.”
Clarissa’s eyebrows arched. “What’s new about that?”
Jemma couldn’t say for certain, but she swore a faint smile shadowed Willa’s mouth. The younger woman reached for the phone sitting at the corner of her desk. “I’ll let them know you’re here.”
Clarissa leaned over and coaxed the phone back into its cradle. “Why spoil the fun of a grand entrance?”
Willa’s eyes sparkled in conspiratorial glee behind her glasses. “Be my guest.”
Cupping Jemma’s elbow, Clarissa shoved the door open. The eight individuals clustered around a boardroom table swung their focus toward the doorway, and Jemma dug deep for the self-assurance necessary to bend these people to her will.
A statuesque woman with frosty blonde highlights that matched her demeanor lifted from her seat at the head of the table. “Ms. Miles, Ms. Beaumont, how kind of you to notify us of your arrival.”
There was no mistaking the reprimand in the woman’s voice. Jemma stepped forward, her spine straightening. “It’s Finnegan.”
The Nordic ice queen blinked, obviously taken aback. Jemma wasn’t sure if the woman’s discomposure stemmed from being corrected in front of her colleagues. Frankly, she didn’t give a rat’s ass. Before this meeting concluded, she planned on making everyone in this room regret ever hearing her name, much less getting it wrong.
The blonde woman transferred her attention to Clarissa, giving Jemma a deliberate brush-off. “I had Willa research the term Gorasola. Turns out it’s the name of one of Antoinette’s demon familiars. Specifically, the one she would summon to collect souls for her. Only this time, it seems the demon imprisoned Nettie’s soul back into her corpse.”
Clarissa grunted. “Guess Nettie pissed off her familiar one too many times.”
The elderly gentleman sitting across from the blonde fiddled with his handlebar mustache. “Ms. Finnegan’s genetic link with Antoinette must have given her the ability to command the demon. Perhaps it would be in our best interest to further examine Jemma’s latent abilities.”
Suddenly feeling an uncomfortable kinship with lab rats, Jemma stacked her arms over her chest. “I’m going to get right to the point. If you want a chance in hell of poking and prodding at me, it’s going to cost you.”
The blonde woman cocked an eyebrow. “Your price?”
“Griff. You’re going to return him to me. Now.”
An uncomfortable silence descended on the room. Jemma stared down each guild member until they one by one dropped their gazes to the floor. All except for the ice queen. Probably nothing short of spontaneous blindness would make that chick back down from a challenge against her superiority.
“Ms. Finnegan, I understand why you’re upset, and I sympathize with your predicament. But rules are implemented for a reason.” Mimicking Jemma’s posture, the woman leaned her hip against the table edge. “Griffin Trudeau broke the most sacred rule of all and as such, lit the fuse to what could have been the end of every living person on this planet. His punishment is fair and reasonable. Believe me, we could have come down far harder on him.”
“In what twisted world is banishment reasonable?”
Impatience washed over the other woman’s features. “Let’s please not get emotional about this.”
The frustration and fury bottled within Jemma popped its cork. Literally. White sparks shot from her skin, and suddenly the ice queen went flying across the table and collided with a potted palm. Everyone gasped. Screeching in outrage, the woman untangled herself from the houseplant and whisked her hair out of her narrowed eyes. “Your request is denied.”
Her heart plummeting, Jemma returned the mixture of furious and wary stares shooting in her direction. “I—I have no idea how I did that. Honestly. And I certainly didn’t do it on purpose.”
The woman yanked her fitted jacket back in place. “This meeting is finished.”
“No, it isn’t. Please, you have to bring Griff back.” Her voice cracking, she sent a pleading look to the other members. The cowards refused to even acknowledge her.
Clarissa’s hand tucked over Jemma’s limp one. “Sometimes you can’t win a battle on the first maneuver.”
“But—”
“Tomorrow.” Clarissa gave an encouraging squeeze. “We’ll come back then.”
Swallowing past a thick lump of misery, Jemma allowed Clarissa to tug her through the doorway. They were halfway to the exit when a soft cough sounded behind them. Jemma turned and met Willa’s tentative smile.
“Just so you know, I’m rooting for you.”
Good. Because she’d need all the help she could get.
Rather than immediately returning to the coven house, Clarissa drove a few miles north to one of the larger parks that seemed to make up just about every square within the city. She shut off the engine of her sporty red convertible. Jemma made no move to unclick her seat belt. “I’m not exactly up for sightseeing.”