Witches of Barcelona: A Dark, Funny & Sexy Urban Paranormal Romance Series (Blood Web Chronicles by Caedis Knight (hardest books to read .txt) 📗

cheeks turning red as I tell her about a seagull Shifter our receptionist, Joan, dated in New Jersey. Apparently, he squawked really loudly when he came.

“The last award of the night is a very special one,” my mother continues. My lack of sleep and overindulgence in the food and drink department today is beginning to catch up with me. I have to blink three times to stop the image of my mother on stage getting all swimmy.

“This award goes to my very own daughter, Saskia de la Cruz…”

What the fuck!? My back straightens with a jolt, and I’m suddenly wide-awake.

“...for her generous contribution to the MA treasury, as nominated by our very own treasurer, Salvador Duarte.”

Ping!

Beatriz looks at me, eyes wide, as I stare at her father. But the fleeting expression of confusion on Salvador’s face is quickly masked by one of genuine delight.

I want to run, I want to be sick, but I can’t do either as my mother is beckoning me over to the stage.

“Come and pick up your prize, darling,” she says, as everyone turns to look at me, clapping politely. “You have just been awarded an honorary lifetime membership to the MA.”

The room spins and the floor disappears beneath my feet.

Chapter Eighteen

“You can abscond,” Luisa says. “You can always say no.”

Rafi is shaking his head. “This is Spain. The paperwork would take months.”

We’re sitting on the cool sand of the beach, not far from where we ate dinner a few nights ago. I’ve recounted yesterday’s awards nightmare to them, but even a night of restless sleep hasn’t helped me figure out what I can do.

Hearing I was being forced into something against my will, Luisa was instantly sympathetic. Rafi less so.

I get it — he’s proud of his seat at the MA table, so it’s hard for him to understand I don’t want this. Especially when it’s being served up to me on a silver platter, and every other Mage has had to fight for their chance at the top. But I never wanted to be on any rung of the MA ladder.

“I’m trapped.”

Rafi waves his arms about. “There are worse places to be trapped.”

I take in the scenery — sunshine sparkling off the Mediterranean, restaurants and bars behind us, and tourists walking up and down the promenade.

“Anywhere can be a prison if you don’t want to be there,” Luisa spits out.

I’m taken aback by her outburst until I remember what Rafi said about her family, about how little control she had in her own life before joining the MA. I give her a grateful smile, and she smiles back, the dimples in her cheeks making my stomach twist.

OK, so maybe Rafi’s right. Maybe I could tough it out here for a bit. I’m sure Jackson would understand if I explained that my mother needs to officially become the First in order to get access to those who will be able to track down my sister. Maybe I can be an even better journalist if I’m heavily entrenched in the MA.

I still feel sick at the thought.

A group of Para locals has approached Rafi, and he’s giving them his sales spiel, telling them his weed is stronger and cheaper than that of any Vamp.

Whatever I do, I can’t leave Barcelona without getting any answers.

“Rafi, remember what my dad said about Maribel and water? Do you…”

“I told you,” he says, counting bills. “I can’t search the entire Mediterranean Sea for a body.”

“Not even a few miles?”

“Leave him,” Luisa says with a grin. “Rafi wouldn’t be able to find a frog in a puddle.”

The buyers walk away as Rafi forms wave shapes out of the sand. Luisa runs off, squealing with laughter, but I struggle to smile. My dad’s cryptic message was the closest I have got to figuring out what happened to Maribel. If she’s dead, my mom can get her precious position as First, and I will have a greater possibility of finding my sister. If she’s alive, I have my story and I can finally get out of here.

“I have to talk to the Winter Prince,” I say to Luisa. “Do you know where I can find him?”

“Yeah, I have a hunch,” she says, nodding her head at the port in the distance.

It’s easy to see what she’s pointing at because out of all the beautiful gleaming white sailing boats and yachts, only one is three floors high and sporting a giant silver flag.

“They’re staying on a boat?”

“More of a yacht, but yeah. The Fae delegation always stays near the water.” She makes a face. “But the Fae are dangerous, Saskia. What do you need the prince for?”

I look at Rafi, but he’s busy with a new client.

“Because either he knows where the body is,” I say. Which is the more dangerous option. “Or he can help us find it.”

We round the corner onto the narrow pier and gasp in unison at the Winter Prince’s impressive yacht. It looked grand from the beach, but up close it’s bigger than most buildings.

“Holy shit,” Luisa whistles, and I nod in agreement.

Not because the yacht is big enough to house every single Kardashian and their distant relatives, but because the water surrounding the pearlescent monster is entirely frozen.

And likely glamored so that humans wouldn’t notice.

I look up at the sound of the giant flag flapping above us. The sun glints off the silver, a large white snowflake in the center. Just like the emblems decorating the military uniforms of the two guards barring our entry.

“State your purpose,” one of them barks, his white-blond hair blowing in the sea breeze.

“We were sent by the MA to speak with the prince,” Luisa lies without skipping a beat.

Ping.

It’s enough for the guard who leads the way in. I’ve seen photos of yacht interiors in People and Entertainment Weekly articles, so I knew exactly what to expect. Except I was wrong. This is no human ship.

The inside is as spotlessly white as the outside. The furnishings look like freshly fallen snow, and