The Fates. I remembered Sofie mentioning these Fates. “Isn’t that what Sofie did for my spell?”
Leo’s head bobbed up and down, his brow furrowing. “Dangerous and powerful stuff, that type of magic. It can be deadly. Few sorcerers will even attempt a Causal Enchantment. Most don’t have enough magic in them to call on them, even if they’re brave enough. I don’t, that’s for certain.” A wrinkled index finger rose to wag in the air. “But there was one, it seemed, a powerful and fearless French sorceress who had turned herself eighty years earlier using a Causal Enchantment for the love of a vampire, only to accidentally kill him. I had heard about her; she was a fable by that point, really. No one knew if she still lived. Most thought she had met her demise by fire, or something equally poetic. If she did exist, she had dropped off the grid completely.
“I was desperate. I had to find her, had to see what she could do that no one else could. And so I searched. I researched every French sorcery guild tree; I picked the brains of every elderly witch still alive. And I finally found a name: Sofie Girard.”
“Girard,” I repeated softly. Of course Sofie had a last name!
He nodded. “Once I had her name, I used a type of spell called a ‘broadcast spell’ to seek her out. I’ll explain that another time.” He waved away my perplexed look. “Maeve was so weak by this point, her breathing ragged. I didn’t expect her to last another week.” Leo paused and swallowed heavily.
“The morning after I sent the broadcast out, I walked into our little kitchen in Dublin to find this stunning red-haired woman perched on the counter.” He chuckled. “At first I thought she was going to strike me dead for seeking her out—those pale green eyes seemed to dissect me.” Leo leaned forward until he perched on the edge of his chair, suddenly animated as he relived the memory. “But she pushed past me without a word and walked over to the couch where my wife lay, wheezing terribly and barely conscious by now. Sofie leaned forward, close to my wife’s face. I didn’t know what to expect. I was afraid she would do what I couldn’t—end my wife’s suffering. Or worse, turn her! Of course, I didn’t know about the venom problem, that her venom couldn’t turn a human.” A wistful smile touched Leo’s lips.
“But she did no such thing. For two days straight, Sofie sat beside Maeve, holding her hand. I could feel her magic in the house. Such awesome, unparalleled strength that woman has. She is a true rarity in the sorcery world. I sat in the chair next to them, watching. I didn’t utter a single word. For two days straight, I sat there, until I finally passed out from exhaustion.” Leo leaned back into his chair. “When I awoke, Maeve was sitting next to me with rosy cheeks and vibrant eyes. Sofie was gone.”
My heart swelled with relief. “So Maeve’s okay? Where is she now?”
Leo smiled sadly. “She’s been gone twenty years now, Evangeline. That’s the downside of marrying an older woman.” He chuckled. “Maeve was nineteen years my senior. When I was a spry fifty-five-year-older, she was in her mid-seventies. Old age took her. But thanks to Sofie, I had thirty wonderful years with her.”
“So then what happened?” I felt my eye brow quirk with doubt. “How’d you end up as Viggo’s British butler?”
“Well . . . ” Leo slowly eased out of his chair. He walked over to gaze out a window, his arms crossed over his chest. “When Maeve died, I was lost. Figured I’d just let myself waste away until I could join her. And then one day about fifteen years ago, Sofie contacted me using a communication spell. It seems the sly woman had kept tabs on me and knew I was widowed.” He laughed, shaking his head. “She asked about my British acting skills and my ability to mask my powers. Intrigued and willing to repay her in any way I could, I followed her instructions. I moved to England under an assumed name and fraudulent credentials. I published an advertisement for a job in New York City, and I learned a disguising spell to hide my Irish accent, to create the illusion of a perfect gentleman’s man. It didn’t take long for Viggo to find me. His last butler met an untimely death.” Leo grimaced. “Or timely, for Sofie’s sake.”
I shuddered, hoping Sofie had nothing to do with it but not feeling overly confident.
“I entered their home just after Viggo killed your mother.”
That stabbed at my heart. Since learning the truth of my mother’s death—that Viggo had murdered her—I could not think about my mother without seeing the haunting image Max had shown me of Viggo leaning over her broken body. It was etched in my mind, just as Caden’s bloody eyes now were. A giant wet nose nuzzled against my ear. Max, comforting me. I gave his head an affectionate scratch.