Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
‘Carver was pissed at me when he left my house earlier,’ said Ripper. It could have easily been the Alpha.
‘They’re all pissed. Him. Reena. My family. Anyone who was looking forward to seeing Reena’s plans for the land come to fruition.’ Emberlyn sighed. ‘Bet you regret that Millicent pulled you and your clan into this.’
Ripper felt his brows draw together. ‘I regret nothing. And I don’t give a shit how many people are pissed or just how pissed they are. Not my problem. The land isn’t theirs; never was. Same goes for the manor. They’re the issue here, not us.’
‘I don’t think they’ll drag this out much longer,’ said Logan. ‘They’ll put up an initial resistance, sure – they feel that they’re the victims here. But they’ll let this go when the struggle doesn’t pay off. There isn’t anything else they can do.’
‘They’ll eventually accept that they’re not going to get what they want,’ Emberlyn agreed. ‘But that doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll let it go. I’m not the only vengeful witch in town, regardless of what the coven might like everyone to believe.’
Ripper felt his brows dip. ‘The rebellious faction that’s rumored to exist within the coven, you mean.’
‘It’s not a rumor,’ she asserted. ‘I don’t know who makes up the group, but I know it exists because I’ve been blamed for many spells they’ve cast. People just assumed it was me.’
Yeah, Ripper had once been one of the people who made that assumption. He’d failed to realize that, actually, she’d been the faction’s scapegoat.
‘If they think they can take me on as a group, they might well do it.’
Ripper caught her gaze. ‘They won’t only have to take you on, Emberlyn. They’ll have to also take on my clan. They fuck with you, they fuck with us and vice versa. You think the coven is really dumb enough to do that?’
She twisted her mouth. ‘No. But that doesn’t mean they won’t.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Swiping her choice of outfit from the wardrobe two days later, Emberlyn paused on hearing the phone ring. She crossed to the bed, carefully laid her clothes on the mattress, then headed for the phone on the nightstand. She lifted the receiver to her ear. ‘Hello?’
‘Emberlyn, this is Clarence Robbins.’
She blinked in surprise. The werewolf had not only been her grandmother’s lawyer but also the executor of the will. ‘What can I do for you, Clarence?’
‘I’ve been contacted by one of the coven’s lawyers, Tyra.’ He sighed. ‘I’m sorry to say that your family is planning to contest Millicent’s will.’
She felt her lips tighten. ‘Yes, I’d heard that they might.’ And she would bet that Tyra was loving that she had a hand in this.
‘Could you come by my office this morning so that we can discuss it further?’
‘I’ll be there. What time?’
‘My schedule is open until ten a.m. – stop by sometime before then, if you can.’
‘Will do.’ Ending the call, Emberlyn rubbed at her neck. Her family certainly wasn’t wasting any time in putting their plan in motion. She didn’t think they had a chance of rendering the will invalid, but what if they did? She’d lose her home, lose her connection to it, lose the peace she always found here.
Fuck those assholes.
It would be different if they wanted the manor for the right reason; if they gave the first damn about it. But they didn’t. It was greed that drove Emberlyn’s family to do this. Greed, and the bitterness they felt at the manor choosing her.
As Millicent herself had stated in the letter she’d pinned to the grandfather clock, the manor should be inhabited by someone who adored and treasured it. But if her family did overturn the will and manage to acquire the house, they wouldn’t keep or take care of it. They’d relinquish it to Reena, ending the tradition of it being a home to Vautier witches. And she’d never love or cherish it. For the High Priestess, it would be a status symbol. A prize.
Emberlyn cursed beneath her breath and then called Paisley.
‘Yo?’ the witch simply greeted.
‘I’m going to be a little late coming in this morning,’ Emberlyn informed her. ‘Millicent’s lawyer has asked to see me.’
Paisley paused. ‘That’s . . . okay.’ It was clearly killing Paisley not to ask for more information.
Emberlyn’s lips twitched. Her friend was upset with her for not calling straight after the Rabid attack – it had meant that Paisley learned of it via Kage, which annoyed her even more. Just yesterday, she’d rather dramatically told Emberlyn to not speak to her for at least a week.
‘We can handle things without you,’ Paisley sassed. ‘Stay gone as long as you want. It’s truly fine.’
‘I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.’
The line went dead.
Chuckling, Emberlyn set down the receiver again. Moving to the bed, she grabbed her forest-green silk blouse. She winced as she slipped it on, the movements pulling at her shoulder wound. The skin around it felt tight.