Page 2 of Enchantra (Wicked Games #2)
1
OMENS
Genevieve Grimm’s first murder was in the heart of Rome.
At the beginning, the crows had shown up one at a time. Squawking in the background of her morning walks to the pasticceria that had become her favorite place to get breakfast. Their jam tarts one of the things she would miss dearly when she left Rome behind to delve into the unknown ahead.
Every morning for the last week she’d packed and repacked her trunks, worried she might be choosing the wrong gowns or forgetting her favorite perfume—or any of the other things she thought might make the best first impression. In the afternoons she explored the city, attempting to visit every significant landmark within a few days, so that her sister, Ophelia, would never suspect she had strayed from their agreed itinerary.
Or that was the excuse she gave herself, anyway.
Really, she was stalling. Thinking that perhaps it was a mistake to pin so many hopes on a stranger who didn’t even know she existed. Or that she should wait for a clear-cut sign before uprooting all her sister’s carefully laid plans.
It had been at breakfast a few days ago, at the pasticceria, when she’d first recognized that the crows were behaving strangely. One of the little fiends had watched her from a blooming, pink oleander tree while she sipped hot chocolate outside the pastry shop and flipped through a book—a grimoire from Ophelia’s collection that she had snuck into her trunk. She’d looked back at the bird, and there was something a bit too shrewd in its gaze. Something unnatural. But the thought that it might be supernatural had never crossed her mind.
Nor did the prospect that the feathered beasts would turn into full-blown omens.
The next day, however, the first crow was joined by another, trading shrieks as she walked to the Porta Portese flea market, and again as she walked back to the town house Ophelia had arranged for the duration of the trip. It was that night that the pair had turned into a trio, tapping their beaks against her bedroom window well into the witching hours.
But despite it being clear that there was something off about the birds, Genevieve still wasn’t ready to face her suspicion as to why they were pursuing her. Only after her visit to the Colosseum, where she should have been an indistinguishable face amongst a sea of equally clichéd tourists, did the crows become impossible to ignore.
She’d dressed for the day as drably as she was capable of, hoping it might help mitigate any unwanted attention from the birds. Her gown was made of blush chiffon, the hem and sleeves adorably ruffled, and her loose golden-brown curls were swept up in a simple chignon atop her head. She didn’t bother with gloves or any sort of jewelry—like herself, corvids enjoyed shiny things a bit too much.
Her effort was rewarded when her walk to the ancient amphitheater was uneventful. Her stroll staying even-paced as she made her way further and further from the town house without spotting a single one of the feathered fiends. Nor was she bothered while she followed a guide around the magnificent attraction.
No, it wasn’t until the sun finally dropped below the horizon, turning everything from warm gold to cold silver, and she stepped back outside with the rest of her tour group, that the caws of the murder came with it. A crow was perched on every single rooftop and streetlamp, and the scene of a hundred beady gazes locking onto her face in the middle of the bustling crowd would likely never fade from her memories. Nor would the echo of the burning sensation in her lungs as she ran through the cobblestone streets of Rome while the birds chased after her in a frenzy of shrieks and wings.
The crows never harmed her, never left her with a single scratch on her skin as they swooped too low for comfort and sent the crowds around her screaming in terror. Nor did they pull a hair out of place on her head. They only offered the inescapable feeling of being rushed.
She’d hoped for a sign and she’d certainly gotten one.
“I’ll go!” she shouted at the birds. “I just need a little longer!”
Then they did get a little too close to her—their wings brushing against her hair, her back, her skirts—as they pushed her toward the town house faster and faster.
She pounded up the path to her front door, her fingers fumbling for the gilded key in her cape’s pocket as the birds swooped through the air and began to land on the window ledges and the balcony above. She shoved the key into the lock and listened for the click before pushing herself inside and spinning for the stairs.
I just had to ask for a sign , she admonished herself in her mind. Now I can’t put it off any longer.
Throwing open the double doors to the primary suite, she hauled a trunk up onto the bed. She cringed as frantic pecking reverberated against the windows of the far wall. Talons scraped over the glass and sent a hair-raising screech through the air as inky feathers fluttered over the panes.
Tossing dresses, skirts, and undergarments onto the bed, she muttered, “It’s in here somewhere.”
When she finally reached the bottom of the case and plucked out the item she was searching for, the pecking hushed.
It was a black envelope embossed with an intricate filigree design, the swirling patterns foiled in glittering silver. Its matching wax seal featured an image of a thorned branch adorned with wild roses and berries, a large letter “S” embedded in the center. Inside was a piece of velvety parchment more luxurious than any paper she’d ever felt, and the words elegantly scrawled across it were in rich sapphire ink.
Genevieve pulled the letter from its already torn sleeve, unfolding it as a heavy sensation settled over her shoulders. Her blood began to heat as she read it once again.
From the desk of the Enchantra Estate
Dearest Tessie,
My deepest apologies that it has taken me so much time to get back to you. The situation with my family has grown increasingly complicated over the years and I’m afraid that time got away from me. I won’t bore you too much with the details.
I know there is much we have to discuss after all this time, even beyond the topics of your letters, and so I must insist the two of us do so in person.
I must express that it is with the most ardent regret that we left things the way we did and that I have neglected to reach out before now, but I would very much like to rectify my mistakes.
Enclosed is a small gift for your travel expenses. Please do not take it as charity, I know how you are, but rather I have more than I, or my kin, know what to do with and it’s the least I could offer in order to reunite our acquaintance. I know the spring equinox is soon, but I insist you visit us before then as I will have a brief sabbatical from my duties to Knox. I demand you visit, actually. Plus, the demonberries will be perfectly ripe.
See you very soon.
Your old friend,
Barrington Silver
When she’d opened the letter for the first time back home, she had noticed that the ink of some of the letters had bled ever so slightly, making parts of certain words appear thicker than the others. Revealing an all-too-familiar shape amongst the lines.
A crow.
“Damned fucking birds,” she muttered.
The omen was blatant now—as was the sensation emanating from the parchment. The slight buzz of warmth was one that she’d been training herself to recognize in recent months. Magic.
I know the spring equinox is soon, but I insist you visit us before its eve.
Genevieve had always intended to leave Rome with plenty of time before the equinox, but between her nerves and all the city’s attractions…
Better late than never, right?
She shoved the invitation back inside the pages of her diary and clasped her trunks closed. It was time.
Behind her the murder reached a crescendo, their beaks hitting the glass panes so hard she wasn’t sure how they hadn’t yet shattered. Their caws were thunderous as their frantic wings continued to beat in sync with her heart.
“I’m going,” she grunted as she hauled her luggage off the bed, the weight of the trunks nearly too heavy.
But when she finally turned around, ready to go, the birds had disappeared.