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ROWAN

I’ve questioned my wisdom in joining Violet’s latest deranged scheme countless times since arriving tonight, yet here I am in the middle of the night sitting in town. Oh yeah, that’s right—the bond to Violet interferes with my sense because she doesn’t have any.

“I promised that I wouldn’t remove Viktor’s body from the morgue, and so I won’t,” says Violet.

“Yet here we are, lurking across the road from the rear of the police station.” Leif pulls his black hood farther down his face.

We’re perched on a low, uncomfortable red-brick wall, our dark figures halfway between two streetlights in the hope that nobody spots us. What if the detectives hang around the police station at night in case of suspicious activity?

Since the body arrived at their station, we’ve waited for Harding and Wagner to call us in for questioning, but nothing. For once, we’re not suspects or there’s no evidence that allows them to point fingers our way.

“You could’ve both stayed at the academy,” says Violet. “I wouldn’t need your assistance with my plan.”

“But you do need watching,” I say. “Your plans might change into god knows what direction.”

“Yes, but our group are hardly inconspicuous when we’re all together.”

Not all . I look to Leif again. Where the hell is Grayson? Is he convinced Dorian will kill him, and he’s chosen to hide permanently? That’s a crappy move if he hasn’t told Violet. She avoids any mention of him, so Leif and I keep things that way.

After Dashiell’s shock arrival on campus last night, Violet informed me that the shifter genuinely doesn’t know what happened to Grayson, which I agree with. They ran in opposite directions. My opinion? Viktor had buddies nearby who caught Grayson.

But I’m not telling Violet my theory.

Due to the size of the population, the police station isn’t manned twenty-four hours a day; instead the one in the larger town nearby stays open 24/7 instead.

Recently, residents questioned whether opening hours should change due to the spate of murders, and the police force added in extra foot and car patrols as a compromise.

Those ended when the humans solved the murders by implicating the shifter, Grant, but a loud minority demanded the patrols stay.

A select few know the truth about the necromancers’ involvement, but authorities kept it quiet in order to save the town from panicking. Nobody targeted humans, unless you count Kai, but the locals believe he’s a target for murder, not necromancy.

How can anybody be sure about that? If a human construct did appear, the town would act, and the dividing line between supes and humans would widen.

“I still can’t get over your unhinged conversation at the Whitegrove offices,” mutters Leif.

I laugh. “You don’t believe Violet’s unhinged? Do you not know the girl?”

“Droll,” she says, gaze still locked onto the police station’s rear door. “We had limited time, and I needed to communicate to Cornelius that Viktor has actually died now, and that we know. There’s a risk to the man if somebody identifies a Whitegrove connection and Dorian gets involved.”

“And a risk to us if Cornelius wants to shut us up,” Leif adds.

“I will ensure that justice is served, and that he’s the one ‘shut up.’ The man covered up a murder.”

I don’t share her certainty. I also don’t share Violet’s confidence that Cornelius or his associates will visit the police station tonight.

Earlier, I questioned Violet as to what she’ll do if Cornelius doesn’t interfere in the process of identifying his son.

Viktor’s body can’t remain here. She’s adamant that passing on information to Cornelius will prompt him to take the body tonight.

However, she’s silent on what her plan B entails.

No way will I help Violet remove the body ourselves.

“Do you think Cornelius can use blood runes?” asks Leif.

“No. He isn’t a Blackwood, so he can’t practice their magic,” I say. “The Whitegroves also couldn’t hide whether their family line contained Blackwood blood; everything is on record.”

“Witch families confuse me,” he admits. “There’re a lot of connections. Intermarrying.”

“I don’t have Blackwood blood if that’s what you’re implying,” I reply.

“Yet.” Leif looks to the sky.

“ What ?” I shove him so he looks at me, unable to believe his words.

“Dorian and Eloise—you and Violet are the same. Dorian saved Eloise; Violet won’t let you die.”

“Wow. Are we really having this conversation?” I ask.

“If anybody’s likely to ingest my blood, that would be Grayson,” says Violet, her focus back on the police station.

“ What ?” I ask again. “Are you planning on that?”

Violet doesn’t reply. Whoa. Would the pair risk her poisoning him?

“This conversation is crazy. What’s gotten into you, Leif?” I ask.

“Wait! Shush.” Violet points at a vehicle moving slowly along one of the back lanes toward the rear of the place station. Few cars or people have passed us since we arrived here, and none would notice activity away from the main street.

A white transit van in the model favored by tradespeople pulls up.

The vehicle reverses until it’s as close to the building as possible but doesn’t enter the small parking lot.

A small dumpster takes up the majority of the left of the building’s exit, and on the other side there’s a high wall, where a gap allows cars to pass through.

If a police car were parked in the parking bays before we arrived, I would’ve insisted we leave.

Violet stands and edges along the shadowed part of the sidewalk, and I whisper at her not to cross the street toward the station. Silently, she points at the closest security cameras positioned above the dumpster that face toward the parking lot.

We watch for a couple of minutes. The driver cuts the engine, but nobody leaves the van.

I approach Violet, leaving Leif sitting on the wall. The vehicle can’t belong to a tradesman—there’s no business name painted anywhere on the van. “This might not have a connection to Cornelius.”

“A van randomly parking outside the police station at one a.m.? One big enough to transport a body?” She shakes her head. “These people are here for Viktor.”

I’m about to repeat my opinion when the door to the police station opens inwards, and a yellow light glows from inside and across the tarmac.

“Can you see who’s there?” I ask, straining my eyes.

“No. The individual chose to stay out of view.” Violet presses her lips together. “ Of course —Cornelius has someone on the inside.”

“Of the building?”

She flashes me a look. “Within the police. The Circle witches integrate into all areas of society. Cornelius doesn’t need to break and enter.”

“Like we once did?” I mutter.

The van’s passenger door opens, and a thickset man with a dark beanie pulled low on his head steps out, closing the door as quietly as he can. He walks to the open station door, enters, and then leaves again within a minute. Violet fidgets and I hold her arm—just in case.

Leif joins us and I nod at him; he has the same concern: stop Violet from rushing in.

The man returns to the van and speaks to the driver before wandering toward the wall but remaining outside the station. As the van’s engine rumbles to life, he guides the van to the edge of the narrow opening in the wall. The vehicle’s rear doors flip open, and a second man hops out.

“They’re taking Viktor!” Violet whispers.

“And you want to stop them?” My hold on her arm tightens.

Violet grins at me. “No.”

Grins. “What? Why?”

“Because I’d like Viktor’s body to disappear.”

My jaw drops. “Violet. You can’t allow Cornelius to get away with Viktor ‘never existing’. This is linked to the tiara. The murder.”

“And Cornelius knows that we’re aware. This game must continue for a while longer.”

Game?

“And what if he disposes of the body?” asks Leif in hushed shock.

Violet stares ahead. “He won’t.”

“And how do you know?” demands Leif.

I rub my head. “Ancestral witch families keep their dead preserved. It’s a folk tale that became a tradition—superstition that magic will weaken through the generations if a deceased relative is buried or cremated.”

“And Cornelius went to a lot of trouble to keep Viktor alive and out of trouble. If he wished, Cornelius could’ve killed Viktor years ago,” Violet adds. “Seems odd he’d destroy his son’s body now.”

“All witches do this?” Leif frowns. “What do they do with the bodies?”

“Only the original families do. They place their dead in mausoleums. Unless something unfortunate occurs which results in a burned or decomposed body, since then there’s nothing left to embalm.” She scratches a cheek. “We must locate the Whitegrove’s mausoleum.”

“Right. But wouldn’t an extra body inside look odd if nobody knows Viktor exists?” asks Leif.

“Are you sure nobody else knows?” Violet looks back. “Cornelius would struggle to wipe the memory of a child from absolutely everybody , especially his wife. How could the woman forget birthing offspring? She’s top of my list of people we need to talk to.”

“Yeah, and I doubt the families do a regular head count inside the mausoleum,” I say.

The activities between the van and the police station rear are hidden from view, but Violet doesn’t attempt to move closer.

“Right. So, we’re following the van?” asks Leif wearily. “Is that the plan?”

“No.”

“Then what the hell are we doing here?” I ask.

“Gathering evidence.” She gestures. “These men will take the body to Cornelius who?—”

“ Then where’s your evidence for Dorian?”

“As you both so adamantly informed me, I can’t take Viktor’s body.

Therefore, I need someone else to extract his corpse from the humans.

Is there a risk that Cornelius will destroy the body?

Yes, but that’s unlikely as Whitegroves are ancestral.

Cornelius would likely embalm and then tuck Viktor’s body into an existing tomb,” says Violet blithely.

Tuck. “Right.” I press my lips together. “Then what exactly do we do? Sneak onto the Whitegrove estate? Search for their mausoleum?”

“I’d like to speak to the individual inside the police station who is tasked with allowing the men entry. This person deliberately hid themselves from view. Once the van leaves, we get into that building and question the man or woman before they also leave.”

I swear beneath my breath; I’d wanted to avoid a trip inside the police station. But what else can we do? Following the van won’t be easy with no car. I’d already pictured Violet lying on the vehicle’s roof or hanging onto the back and should be grateful she’s not following that idea.

But how much will the mysterious helper know?