Chapter 22.1Mature

Beth stared at Robert disbelievingly. Why hadn’t he told her it was his birthday? He seemed slightly uncomfortable with the fact that Isabella had mentioned it. He took Beth’s hand and pulled her to sit on the sofa beside him. She tucked herself underneath his arm and leant her head against his chest.

“How’s it going with Dylan?” Robert asked Isabella, who was sitting with her legs crossed on the floor.

She shrugged. “He’s gone. He wasn’t up to the stuff I wanted to do.”


“So now I have Aaron,” she said with a little mischievous and knowing smile on her lips.

“You little whore,” Robert laughed.

Isabella grinned. “You’re just jealous.”

“I’ve had enough real beatings from you to last an eternity.”

Isabella stuck her tongue out at him. “Whatever.”

Beth had no idea what they were talking about, and wasn’t particularly sure she wanted to. She found herself looking up at Robert for an explanation. He shook his head.

“You haven’t told her?” Isabella asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why would I?” Robert asked her.

“Just thought you would,” Isabella shrugged. “Anyway, so what’s this I hear about your demon situation?”

Robert explained everything, about the ritual they’d discovered and all the notes Beth had received.

“How many notes?” Isabella asked seriously, a small line appearing in her brow.

“Three now,” Beth murmured.

“Three?” Isabella asked, alarmed. “Robert, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did tell you, actually,” he said, glaring at her over the top of Beth’s head.

Isabella’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have one of the notes with you?”

Robert shifted and produced the most recent note from his back pocket. He handed leant forward to hand it to Isabella, who plucked it from his fingers with her long nails. She ran her fingers over the writing, her eyes closed and her eyes twitching beneath her lids.

Her red eyes flew open and she dropped the small piece of paper, her hands shaking. She was staring off into the distance, her eyes slightly glazed.

“I know who it is,” she whispered.

“Who?” Robert asked worriedly.

“It’s Rosalyn.”

Robert sat forward suddenly. “What?” he exclaimed. “You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” she snapped. “Look at the handwriting.”

“Oh damn, of course. I should have known.” Robert dropped his head into his hands.

“Who’s Rosalyn?” Beth asked cautiously. Robert was worried, Robert was scared. That just didn’t seem possible.

“Rosalyn is my daughter,” Isabella murmured. “But why is she doing this? There has to be more to it than just the witches’ power.”

“She always used to flirt with me, remember?” Robert said. “Do you remember what she said when I told her what I really thought of her?”

“You don’t think she actually meant it though?”

“Stop pushing me out of the conversation,” Beth said firmly, causing both Robert and Isabella to stare at her. Neither of them had really remembered she was there.

The End

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