Ben warned. “I’ve dealt with dangerous women before,” Paschal assured him, though his voice was weak and his face pale. Sitting at his father’s bedside, Ben had watched a veil of advanced age unfurl over his father’s usually robust body. The aftereffects of Paschal’s psychic episode, brought on by his contact with the antique button, had knocked the ninety-five-year-old man into a terrifying state. Paschal had slept nonstop since that morning, but had gotten very little rest. His muttering testified to disturbing dreams and secrets Ben had not wanted to know about. Though his father had finally woken half an hour ago, a haunted glaze still shadowed his silver-gray eyes. “Speaking of dangerous women,” Paschal said, a shadow of a smile playing over his dry, cracked lips, “where is Cat?” “Doing some research on how to find your friend Gemma Von Roan before she finds us.” A sneer curled Paschal’s mouth. “Gemma Von Roan is not a friend. She’s a means to an end.
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