Page 39 of Blackwicket

I glared at him. “Like who hurt my sister?”

He glanced at me, the bare turn of his head.

“Curse Eaters die by accident all the time.”

I couldn’t decipher the strange edge in his tone.

“No,” I corrected. “They don’t. Regular, inexperienced, people who are forced to eat curses die by accident. A trained curse eater who’s been doing it since she was five years old doesn’t die by curse rot, accident or not.”

I stopped short of my full tirade.

“You already know that,” I accused.

He didn’t look at me, but a wry grin momentarily crossed his lips, unsettling me in a way I despised. We reached the end of the main strip, moving from the lights and onto the shadowy side street. The inside cab descended into a murky gloom, lit by the sporadic glow of the half-moon peeking behind snow-filled clouds.

“Why were you at The Vapors, Eleanora?” he said, doing what he did best, wresting control of the conversation.

“Why wereyouthere if you weren’t following me? TheaJames recognized you, and, by the way, there’s no love lost there.”

“Thea’s got her own problems. I’m not one of them.”

“Lucky woman.”

The silence following was heavy with the billowing of my own emotions. The Inspector remained impassive, unimpressed with my sass. I wondered what good this was all doing, what I was achieving in my struggle towards gaining the upper hand. Tonight, for a short, dizzying minute, I’d been ready to forfeit my life. If I were so depraved, what did it matter to me if the Inspector had a piece of the truth?

The car pulled up the drive, gravel crunching beneath the tires. When he shifted it to park, I didn’t immediately get out. He’d expected me to, his hand lifting as if to catch me. He rested it on the wheel and waited.

“William and I have known each other since we were children. I didn’t know he would be there, that he was involved in… I went to…” I spoke softly, pausing, wary to offer honesty when it had never protected me. I retrieved the two photos I’d discovered in Fiona’s drawer and offered them over. He took them with the barest of curiosity.

“I went to see Thea James,” I said. “She was friends with my sister. I expected she’d know who the child in the photograph with Fiona is. I just wanted answers.”

“Did you get them?” The words were a soft thrum in the darkness. It was the gentlest tone he’d ever used with me, and I risked a glance at him, observing his stark, angular profile and the proud, crooked curve of his nose.

“No, but you’re investigating disappearances. It has something to do with the Brom, and if my sister’s death is related, then it’s your job to find out how.”

The paleness of his scar shone in the dim light. A beat ofquiet passed before he looked up again, giving the photos back to me.

“Fiona Blackwicket was an illegal Curse Eater. As far as the Authority is concerned, her end was a logical result of her profession. The Brom had no reason to eliminate her. She was an ace in their hand.”

I couldn’t accept this, not after I’d debased myself with such vulnerable honesty.

“And what about as far asyou’reconcerned? You can’t sit there and say you don’t care at all what happens to people. She didn’t deserve this. She was trying to survive!”

As my desperation grew, Inspector Harrow’s tone became increasingly detached.

“A lot of people are trying to survive, Ms. Blackwicket. Not many of them resort to black-market magic.”

I was too exhausted to resist the tears collecting on my lashes from this rebuke. I recalled the face of one of the young men who’d accosted me, the softness of childhood still visible.

“The Brom wouldn’t be such a thorn in your side if that were true, Inspector,” I replied, raw.

“Speaking of aces,” he said, my pain failing to move him. “The Brom just lost their leading lady, so you must look pretty enticing. Does that explain why you were at the Principes’ private table tonight?”

“Grigori is Principe,” I corrected harshly, the Inspector’s lack of interest in the photos, in my sister’s life and death, incensing me.

“Grigori Nightglass is dead.”

This news stole in my breath. Why hadn’t William mentioned that?