Page 13

ROWAN

Violet is holding back something discussed during her meeting with Dorian.

She assures us her father doesn’t know that Viktor died or that humans have the witch’s body, but there’s an odd aura to her.

When Dorian and Violet clash, she vents her frustration by relaying the conversation to us.

This time, she’s quiet—something unusual in itself.

Has Dorian threatened us all again? I didn’t have a hand in Viktor’s death, Grayson literally did, and Leif’s intervention allowed Grayson to run from the scene with the witch’s heart. So, I have less to worry about, right?

Yeah, right. As if Dorian would let me off the hook.

I’m not confident that we can fix this situation.

Violet’s mind runs in crazy directions again, made worse by her worry that Dorian may discover the identity of the body in the morgue at any moment.

She accepts her original ‘steal the body’ plan won’t work, but will her ‘telling Cornelius’ scheme have any success?

The guy spent two decades convincing the world his son died and keeping his existence a secret.

Thanks to my dumb comment earlier, Violet jumped several steps ahead at speed, and within hours, we’re absent from the academy on another of our unauthorized excursions.

Cornelius Whitegrove’s offices. The building is situated in a town between the city and his family estate, part of a converted mill that stretches along the riverbank—a building once used for industry that didn’t involve fleecing people out of their money.

I’d expected him to operate from the center of the city, amongst the flashy buildings and international companies, but I can detect magic energy in the area that’ll aid in his dodgy dealings.

Violet straightens her blazer sleeves as she silently peruses the double-door entry.

The decision to wear uniforms rather than wander inside in usual clothes adds an authority to our presence, but will that get Violet any farther than the reception desk once she opens her mouth?

She breaks her silent scrutiny of the exterior. “Look at the company logo. The shape contains a magical symbol.”

“Yeah, that’s the Circle’s uh… circle, and the intersecting lines and triangle would focus magic on wealth. Researched earlier when I knew you’d follow through with this crazy idea.”

“The mill generates magic through the water mingling with energy,” says Violet, confirming my thoughts. “ Whitegrove Financial Solutions. What are financial solutions?”

Leif shrugs, and I pull a ‘no idea’ face.

“Rowan, You should investigate whether this company has any connection to Sawyer.”

“Already did. None.”

“This is all rather suspicious. Aren’t powerful businessmen always connected in some way? Even as rivals? We must push further into Cornelius and Sawyer’s connection” She watches the water move across the rocks in the river. “Once we have a solution regarding the dead body.”

“Voice down,” I urge, glancing around the car park filled with prestige vehicles but fortunately empty of people.

“Viktor is our priority,” says Violet. “We haven’t much time before somebody identifies him.”

“Whatever happens next, will Eloise tell Dorian?” I ask.

“Eventually.”

Leif takes a sharp breath. “ What ?”

“But we shall assuage my father’s fury with new leads and concrete evidence.” She gestures at the offices. “Dig deeper into the Circle and present him with new findings. Discover a link between Josef and the Circle. Bring Josef to Dorian.”

“Those are big ambitions,” I say.

Her impossibly blue eyes meet mine. “Either that or we hand over Grayson and Dashiell.”

“We don’t know where either one is,” says Leif.

I gawk at him. “ And we wouldn’t betray our friend.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” Leif shakes his head. “Let’s do this. You don’t want to leave Holly alone at the academy for long.”

“Marci is watching her closely. Inconvenient, yet currently convenient. But yes, let’s make this a short and succinct visit.”

Violet stalks toward the entry before yanking open the door. Eager to reach the reception desk before she does, I rush inside.

A photo of the mill taken at least a hundred years ago adorns the pale gray-painted walls, and the reception area contains stiff white leather sofas.

This could be an ordinary human office, but witch traits fill the room.

The mahogany desk a woman sits behind has tiny runes mingled in the pattern on the elegantly carved legs, and a tall sculpture dominates the area.

The art piece would appear abstract to most but acts as a beacon for magic.

Violet touches the silver circle created at the top of the sculpture’s long, metal pole. “Interesting.”

The only other feature in the room is an attractive young woman with sleek blonde hair sitting behind the desk in front of a laptop, calculating who we are.

“Is Mr. Whitegrove here?” asks Violet abruptly.

“Do you have an appointment?” The receptionist taps the keyboard.

Violet steps forward. “It is imperative I see him.”

“Do you have an appointment?” she repeats, scarlet red lips forming a professional, friendly smile.

“I need to speak to Mr. Whitegrove about how to solve my finances.”

The woman chuckles. “Is that right? Current or future investments?”

I nod at Leif to watch their exchange and interrupt if necessary before subtly exploring the room for more magical clues. The ceiling’s cornicing matches the pattern on the desk legs, and I’d lay bets there’re runes beneath the hessian doormat.

“Current or future investments?” the woman repeats.

“Very much in the past,” says Violet.

“If you don’t have an appointment, I can organize one for a day Mr. Whitegrove has availability.”

“The solutions I need will not wait.”

Violet wanders across the wood floor covered in a blue rug that no doubt hides runes too. She pauses at the foot of varnished wooden stairs leading upwards toward the offices and raises her voice.

“I have concerns I wish to discuss with Mr. Whitegrove concerning a valuable family heirloom.”

“That isn’t the type of thing our company deals with,” interrupts the receptionist. “You need to visit an appraiser.”

“I’ve asked my lawyer, Josef Petrescu, to assist in my family’s claim over this heirloom, which Mr. Whitegrove possesses,” Violet continues loudly.

The woman stands. “You’re not here to talk about investments. You should leave. Now.”

“Incorrect. I’m very much invested in Mr. Whitegrove.”

Floorboards creak above us and a white-haired man appears at the top of the stairs, his lips pressed tightly together. I’ve never met Cornelius, but he’s recognizable from photos and the potent magic aura surrounding him.

“I do not have your tiara on the premises, Ms. Blackwood, so this ridiculous ruse is a waste of time.” He nods at the woman behind the reception desk. “I don’t have time to meet these youths.”

“Yet you walked from your office to speak to me because you heard what I said,” says Violet and begins to climb the stairs. Cornelius holds his ground, frowning at her. “And I have plenty to say.”

Crap. I edge up the steps behind Violet. Nothing good ever follows those words from her mouth.

“The issue with the tiara is dealt with,” he says coldly. “And I highly doubt you’d work with Mr. Petrescu, Ms. Blackwood .”

“You renovated this building beautifully,” she says and gestures at the sculpture. “I like the personal touches.”

“I also highly doubt you’re here to admire the interior design.”

“Did you employ the electrician Joe Smith?” she continues. “And did you recommend him to the Brightgroves to work on their renovations too? We all know how witches like to help each other.”

Violet emphasizes the family name and a tiny flicker of recognition crosses Cornelius’s face.

“I don’t know. I’m not involved with organizing tradespeople.”

“Too busy making money from unsuspecting humans?”

Cornelius sighs. “You’re making no sense. Is this about the tiara or not?”

“Did you hear that one of Joe’s close colleagues had an unfortunate accident?”

I glance at Leif. Typical Violet. Lure Cornelius out with a valid reason she’d visit then jump on him with questions.

“His name was Viktor.”

Not a glimmer of a reaction to Violet’s words. No movement. Nor expression change.

“Veronica, would you please make coffee for my clients.” He shakes his suit jacket sleeve to look at his gold watch. “My actual clients, who are due in five minutes.”

“Are you sure I can’t help?” she asks.

“You’re human. Do you find working with a witch unusual?” Violet asks the woman.

She stares. “I’ve no prejudice against witches and enjoy my job.”

Violet pulls on her lip. “Do you have any issues with your memories? Migraines that began since you commenced employment here?”

“What a ridiculous question,” she replies.

“And do you remember every client who passes through?” pushes Violet.

“A pot of coffee and the pastries. Meeting room,” Cornelius interrupts.

Accustomed to his hard tone, the woman nods before moving quickly up the stairs.

Cornelius steps back to allow her to pass and stares at her ass in the tight black skirt as she does. “I’ll watch reception in case there’re any more unusual and unwanted visitors lurking outside.”

Yeah, that’s totally what he’s watching. Creep.

“Visitors such as Joe?” suggests Violet. “I assure you he hasn’t joined us.”

Cornelius slowly descends the stairs and looks down at Violet, his face sour. “What is this pantomime for? Unless the man’s accident happened here, there’s no reason to bring the issue to me.”

“Viktor is dead.”

Omigod, Violet. I hadn’t considered what Violet intended to do, or how she’d get Cornelius’s attention, but should’ve expected zero subtlety.

“A random man’s death does not concern me. Leave.”

“Violet. I think we should leave,” I whisper.

“What’s your family name, witch?”

I don’t look away from his inscrutable gaze. Cornelius knows exactly who I am if I’m with Violet. “Willowbrook.”

“Interesting. We extended an invitation to you from the Circle, and your family never responded. That’s unorthodox.”

I mentally curse Violet. How could I expect to avoid the Circle after an invite—especially if Cornelius mentioned the invite to my parents? They’ll shove me through the door into the Circle’s arms whilst gushing about the honor.

“I’ve been busy. Sorry.”

“I voted against inviting you, Rowan, due to your… associations.” He flicks a look to Violet. “But we don’t operate as a dictatorship, unlike some organizations.”

“My father does not dictate. He merely advises strongly.”

Yes, but who knows what happens to those who don’t agree with Dorian Blackwood’s ‘advice’? His control over the supernatural government may not be openly coercive, but it definitely leans far away from democratic.

Cornelius’s lips press together. “You’re testing my patience. I do not have your tiara, and neither do I know this man. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“You sent Veronica away,” adds Leif.

“Because I need her to arrange refreshments for my clients. Didn’t you hear?” Cornelius makes a derisive noise. “Leave. I don’t have security but do have the abilities to remove you from the premises.”

“Magic?” Violet scoffs. “Not against me.”

Placing hands behind his back, Cornelius leans down until his face is closer to Violet’s than most people dare. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re hoping to achieve. The tiara is not in my office, so if you’re planning to take it, you’re wasting your time. Go.”

Violet takes a step back. “Then I shall cut to the chase, now your mind-influenced human has left.”

“I do not influence minds.”

I suppress a scoff at the biggest lie that I’ve heard in my entire life. Apart from the monumental mind-wiping about his son’s death, Cornelius Whitegrove is the most powerful witch in business society—and, coincidentally, the wealthiest.

“We visited today because we have reason to believe you’re related to Viktor,” says Violet. “And wanted to let you know about the death.”

“Related how? I’ve grandsons and great-grandsons, but none called Viktor.”

“And sons?” I can’t see Cornelius’s response to Violet’s question but sense an energy spike.

“I have one son. Benedict.”

“And a secret son?” She doesn’t move her eyes from his face.

“Are you suggesting I have an illegitimate child?” Cornelius glances at the stairs. “Get the hell out of here. Now.”

Violet steps back. “Viktor’s body is in the morgue at Little Wittering police station.

They’ve yet to identify who the area’s latest murder victim is.

I expect by tomorrow samples will indicate he is a witch with DNA that matches the Whitegrove family, and the human detectives will refer this to my father. ”

“Fascinating,” he says stiffly.

“I don’t think my father should find Viktor’s body. There would be… complications.”

“Leave.” Cornelius’s cheeks tinge pink, and he’s staring at Violet as if she’s insane.

The girl walks a thin line between sanity and insanity at the best of times.

“Very well.” Violet turns on her heel and walks to the door. She pauses, holding the handle, but doesn’t look back. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“What loss?” he snaps at her. “I haven’t lost anybody.”

She glances over her shoulder. “Your future losses once the world discovers the truth, Mr. Whitegrove.”