Free The Taking by Erin McCarthy Page A

I might still be with him if it weren’t for you.”
    The hot burn of anger spread out through Felix’s body. When the hell would he ever learn? He should have never, ever gotten involved with Regan that night. He should have been smart and given her a generic reading, not brought up her ring, or her sister, or her free will. He had acted out of compassion and concern, but in this case it would only bite them both in the ass, and he had known that.
    He’d known that.
    But he’d done it anyway, because he had seen the pain in her eyes and he had been unable to stop himself.
    Now they would both pay unless he made it clear he wasn’t worth her praise. “Don’t thank me. I didn’t do anything,” he told her gruffly.
    “Oh, I know not intentionally,” she said, her fingers fiddling with a fertility doll in a bowl on the table to her right. “But . . .” She looked at him, so earnest, her dark eyes shining. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that because of you, I left.”
    And may she never speak those words out loud again. “What did you want to ask me?” he said abruptly. “If it’s about your party, I already told your employee no.”
    He was being rude and caustic, and he hated it, but it was the best thing to do. It would keep her away from him in the future. Trying to ignore the confusion on her face, he stared at her coldly, waiting for her response.
    “Yes,” she said, clearing her throat. “It’s about my party. I know you told Jen no, but I was hoping that you would change your mind. It’s an important fund-raiser. All the proceeds go to the Save Our Cemeteries organization, which preserves and restores our historic cemeteries. The pay is more than reasonable, I think, and we’d only need you for two hours.”
    “No.”
    The pink on her cheeks deepened. He thought she would finally slink off, but Regan had more backbone than he’d given her credit for. She straightened her shoulders and asked, “Why not?”
    “Because I don’t want to.”
    Her lip curled at his behavior and they stared at each other for a long moment, before she looked away. It wasn’t fair. She was a beautiful, intriguing woman and he could only look, not touch.
    Though why he would even bother to lament life’s unfairness at his age and experience was ludicrous. He knew better.
    “I see.” Her voice was all wealthy ice princess. “Well, if it’s not too much trouble, would you at least point me in the direction of some research materials?” Regan lifted her bag and dug around in it, pulling out a black leather book. “I found this personal journal from the nineteenth century in my new house and I’d like to research some of the spells in it. I’m pretty sure they’re voodoo spells.”
    Hating that he had put that reserve into her normally sweet and melodic voice, Felix put out his hand. “No, it’s not too much trouble. Can I see it?”
    “Of course.” She handed him the book. “Thank you.”
    He flipped the book open to the first page.
    June 28, 1878. 1 received this journal for my twentieth birthday today as a gift from Mr. Tradd, the man my parents wish for me to marry. I imagine it will be so.
    Felix’s entire body went still, heat rushing into his head, his mouth, the shock so palpable he could taste its acerbic bitterness on his tongue. No. It couldn’t be.
    But he flipped a few pages and it was.
    Camille’s journal.
    The voice of his long dead lover reaching out from the past in her formal handwriting and increasing madness. “Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice tight.
    “In the chest of drawers in the house I just bought. The chest is original to the house, and it had a secret compartment, which is where this was hidden. A pretty cool find, isn’t it?”
    Or disturbing, depending on your perspective. “Where is your house?”
    He knew what she was going to say, even before the words left her mouth. Felix could picture the room in the house on Royal Street, the elaborate