Burkheart Witch Saga Book 3 Read Free Page B

remember me—" She was unable to get anything else out before he cheerfully interrupted.
    "Ah, Grace. I am so very thrilled that you called me. I was very much hoping that you would."
    "I don't know why I called."
    "Perhaps it would be better if you came to my office. I find telephones to be somewhat impersonal. We can discuss your… situation face to face."
    "What exactly is my situation?" Grace was beginning to get impatient with this whole mysterious act.
    "Seven twenty-nine Desidero. Will 10:00 a.m. be good for you?" he asked, ignoring her question.
    "I'll be there." Grace hoped that defiance was what came through in her tone, as opposed to the fear and trepidation she actually felt.
    "Excellent. I will see you at ten." Before she could answer, Roland Stillson hung up the phone.
    "You ready, babe?" Harold popped in and asked, causing her to jump in surprise.
    "Yeah, I'm ready."
    "You okay?"
    She got up off the bed and joined him in the doorway.
    "I'm fine." They walked arm in arm to the car.
    "Are you sure, Grace? You look distracted."
    "I promise; I am perfectly fine. You worry too much." She smiled as they headed off to her childhood home.
    Harold tried to make conversation with her, but she was too distracted. She couldn't stop wondering what 10:00 a.m. would bring.

    G race pulled up to the building situated at 729 Desidero. It was exactly what she had expected.
    Two golden pillars sat framing the large front door. The ornately carved building looked somewhat out of place in downtown Olympia. Most of the buildings and businesses in the area looked older with brick and stone fronts with splashes of modern architecture thrown in randomly. This one was different. There were several carvings of horses, intertwined with men who had the tails of fish and things of that sort all over the facing of the office building. It was all very subtle, but enthralling and beautiful. Looking at the building as a work of art, she suddenly felt very small.
    Grace stepped up to the front door and pulled the heavy wooden thing open. She stepped into a parlor that looked like it had been stolen directly from the set of Arabian Nights. There were large circular couches and ornately carved tables. The walls were covered with a deep burgundy with golden accents. Rich purple curtains hung in the windows and over the doorways.
    Roland stepped out from one of those gilded curtains and reached out his hands in a welcoming gesture. He took Grace's hand in both of his with a warm smile.
    "I am so pleased that you decided to meet with me. Please come to my office and we can talk in private."
    "Mr. Stillson, what is this all about?" Grace asked, thoroughly confused by this man.
    "Please call me Roland. I will explain everything when we get into my office. Please."
    Grace stepped forward toward his office door, still feeling a bit worried. He seemed pleasant, and he had been able to enter the memorial after she had activated the protection potion. That had to mean that he was not evil. Her potions never let her down.
    Roland motioned for her to take a seat in one of the chairs at his desk. The desk looked more like an altar with its rich cherrywood and filigree carving. The white silk upholstered chair she sat in probably cost more than her car. Roland took a seat behind the desk and folded his hands in front of him, conveying openness and genuine interest. He was hitting all the right cues.
    "First of all, please accept my deepest sympathy for your loss. Your mother was an amazing woman."
    "You knew her?"
    "By reputation only, I am sorry to say. Her kindness and bravery is legendary."
    Roland paused, seeming to agonize over his next statements.
    "You are an empath and a telepath, correct, Grace?"
    "Yes, and seriously, if you don't get to the point in the next minute, I am going to start getting impatient." Grace was normally not so blunt, but if she didn't find out what this was all about soon, she was afraid she might explode.
    "Please forgive