Midnight's Jewel (Siren Publishing Classic) (20 page)

Hadrian was reading what looked to be an invoice, frowning. He shook his head and stuffed the paper back in the envelope. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Something wrong, Dad?” Sabrina asked.

“Nothing around fifteen thousand Euros won’t fix,” he answered. “Let this be lesson to you both. When dealing with a demon, always be very, very specific. I forgot to make it clear that Delila could use my estate in Tuscany for her personal use, but that the invitation did not include guests and/or parties. The wine cellar is empty, the house is a mess, and someone ate a local farmer’s donkey. I need to go make a few calls.” He excused himself, kissing Sabrina on top of the head. “You kids have fun.”

“Mr. Thorpe? Mrs. Thorpe? A package has arrived for you,” the shy new maid said timidly. She hurried forward, sat the box on the table, and scurried back inside.

Sabrina watched her go. “How long do you think it will take her to stop running away like that? It makes me feel bad.”

“Give her time. It can’t be easy knowing your predecessor was killed by the werewolf who is now your new boss. Camilla did an excellent job selecting the new staff the wards will recognize. She’s very efficient,” Brandon said, sounding pleased.

Opening the box, Sabrina found an elaborate and obviously very old candelabra. She reached in to pluck it from the container. Skin sizzled and burned. She dropped it, yelping. Her hand began healing immediately. Brandon inspected the damage and laid a kiss where her wound had been.

He turned the box upside down and shook the contents onto the table. The candelabra were solid silver. A note fell out from under the gift. He picked it up and read it out loud.

Mr. and Mrs. Thorpe,

Congratulations on your recent wedding. I hope you enjoy

your gift.

Diana, Goddess of the Moon, Queen of Witches

“What a backhanded gift! She knows full well we’re allergic to silver,” Sabrina grumbled.

“I think that was the point,” Brandon replied. “You know. Sour grapes and all that. It’s beautiful, valuable, and useless to us. Now that the entire staff is made up of creatures of the night and of darkness, none of them will be able to touch it without gloves either.”

“Well, forget it, then. I believe we were interrupted,” she teased. “Weren’t you about to sweep me off my feet and show me something better than dark-brown eyes and fangs?”

“Why, yes, Mrs. Thorpe, I believe I was,” he agreed.

He snatched her out of her chair and stood all in one blurred motion. In a streak of color, he whisked her through the open French doors, not bothering to shut them behind him. Flashing her fangs, Sabrina laughed and giggled the entire way.

THE END

WWW.FACEBOOK.COM/PAGES/J-ANNAS-WALKER/374381472619499

Born and raised
among the Blue Ridge Mountains of western North Carolina, J. Annas Walker was brought up in a culture rich with oral history and storytelling. Wrought out of this tradition, writing had always been a hobby for her. After acquiring a bachelor of science in civil engineering technology from UNC Charlotte, she continued writing and retelling stories learned in childhood.

For all titles by J. Annas Walker, please visit

www.bookstrand.com/j-annas-walker

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com