Magic Claims (Kate Daniels: Wilmington Years, #2; Kate Daniels, #10.6)

by Ilona Andrews

I didn’t see Julie. Again. She used to fire call every couple of weeks, and then, about two years ago, the fire calls stopped. We still talked on the phone, but a long time had passed since I’d seen her. Too long.

“When we were picking out this place, you told me that it was perfect because we had no neighbors and that you didn’t like people.” “I like everybody,” I told her. I thought I’d get her to laugh, but she just looked at me. “Name one person I don’t like,” I told her. “My father.” “Fair enough.” “My aunt.” “We are polite and careful with each other.” “My cousin.” “I dislike him less now that he’s several states away and safely domesticated by his wife and kids.” “And he stopped trying to kill me.” “That’s the main part of it,” I growled. “Everyone you’ve mentioned has tried to kill you.” At some point in our lives together, keeping her lovely family from trying to murder her became a full-time job for me. They were powerful, homicidal psychopaths, and they didn’t half-ass it. When they came to kill her, they gave it their all. Her eyes sparked. “You wanted to kill me at some point.” “No. The most I promised to do was to throw you out of a window.”

“When I finished that rhino and saw you,” he said, “you were walking to me. There were two dead bodies behind you. You were splattered with blood. Your sword was in your hand. You were smiling, Kate.” “You told me.” “I would fight the whole world for that smile.”