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ROWAN

“Who do you plan to tell?” He swallows. “If I lose my job, that’ll be worse. How will I look after my family?”

Violet moves to stand close enough for the human to feel the dark edges of her persona.

“Don’t hurt me!” Peter looks past Violet. “Don’t let her kill me.”

“I’m not the one who’ll hurt you. The man you work for will eliminate you.”

A strangled choke comes from him. “I’ve never met the guy! I had to do this. I’m not part of… whatever this is.”

“Who took the body tonight?”

The man vigorously shakes his head. “I don’t know them. I promise.” Violet’s fingers touch his forehead, and he screeches in pain before staggering backward, whimpering.

“Violet, stop.” I snatch her arm in horror. “Peter, tell us if you know who the men are or where they’ve taken him.

“Talk.” Violet’s eyes darken. “Or I can find the truth in your mind. Painfully.”

“Okay, okay.” Peter struggles for breath. “One older guy supervised. He was particular about how they moved the body— said he couldn’t do his job properly if someone damaged the corpse. And that ‘he’d’ be pissed if anything went wrong and couldn’t risk upsetting him.”

Violet looks at me. “As I told you. ‘He’ isn’t about to destroy the body. Whitegrove.”

Couldn’t do his job ? Witches embalm their dead. Maybe…

I whip my phone out and locate a website, then flick through until I find the staff page for Elysian Fields Funeral Home . “Either of these men?”

The guy takes the phone and his eyes dart from side to side as he studies three images.

The funeral director and owner, Clement Morris, neatly trimmed gray hair and eyes as steel as mine, with a smile for the camera that’s too large to be genuine.

William Morris, younger, with neat and professional everything, his gray suit and tie matching Clement’s.

Cynthia Morris with curled brown hair that reaches her shoulders wearing a gray blazer and a lot of make-up.

Quite the family affair.

“Do you recognize one?” snaps Violet, and a surge of magic assaults the man again when he doesn’t reply quickly enough. Peter shrieks and drops to his knees, head in hands.

“Him.” Violet snatches the phone back. “He recognizes this man. Clement Morris.”

“Peter would’ve answered you, Violet. Why attack him?”

“I do not have time to waste,” she snaps. “Who is he?”

“Funeral director.” I frown. “Do you think Whitegrove asked the men to take Viktor to the funeral home?”

Violet hands the phone back. “The funeral home offers embalming. Clement stated he can’t work on a damaged body. Whitegrove perhaps ‘employed’ a second person under dubious circumstances. Mr. Morris will embalm the body for Whitegrove, and then return him.”

“Maybe,” I reply.

“Two possibilities: the body thieves will take Viktor to the funeral home to keep Cornelius’s project hidden, or he’ll return to Whitegrove’s estate. I presume the former unless Cornelius possesses embalming equipment,” says Violet to herself.

“Did you not query why this man wanted the body, Peter? Who the body is?” I ask.

“Which men?” He grabs a slab and attempts to stand. “Who are you? Get out of here!”

“You know exactly who we are.”

“I don’t.”

Violet bares her teeth and slams a hand on the man’s head, which snaps back, and he wails.

“What the hell, Violet?” I balk at Violet using the magical strength needed for a supe, not human. What is with her? Violet takes a sharp breath, and the magic drops.

Peter’s legs wobble, and he grips onto the gurney, face bright pink. His eyes are drawn to the tray that Violet opened, jaw moving but unable to speak for a few seconds. “What’s happening? Where’s the body?” he gasps out.

“Oh, good grief. One of the men who took the body was a witch, of course.” Violet touches the side of her head. “A witch who used a delayed memory-wiping spell that’s now affecting Peter.”

“Then we won’t get any more out of him,” I whisper.

“You should’ve let me finish!” she snaps back.

“I know who you are!” Peter half-shrieks, clambering over the desk to put something solid between himself and Violet. “Everybody says you’re innocent of murder, but we know there’s a cover up!”

I prepare to prevent Violet from lunging at him magically or physically, but she crosses her arms. “Are you about to speak ill of me or my family? If you are, reconsider the position you are in.”

“Are- are you replacing his body with mine?” Peter rasps. “Where did you take that man? Why? To cover up your crime?”

Violet darts forward and seizes the man by the shirt, pulling him halfway over the desk, knocking the computer monitor to one side. Whoa. The pair are silent for a moment, the man’s eyes now wider than ever as Violet stares at him.

“If you can’t tell me everything due to a spell, unfortunately I’ll need to break through that spell and extract all your memories.”

A low whimper in his throat grows, becoming an agonized whine.

Memories of Leif’s condition after Eloise pulled apart his mind drift in as I watch Violet.

Viktor and Cornelius likely knew the same spell—Cornelius more so since his memory altering stretched further through the world than the one Viktor cast on my friends.

Violet clings to Peter’s shirt as his face becomes a mask of pain, with eyes bulging, and she doesn’t break her hold or locked gaze for a single moment. Bloodied tears well in his eyes.

What the fuck? If Violet doesn’t stop, we will be replacing a body. “Violet. You’re damaging him!”

“I have to know everything ,” she says through gritted teeth, “and this individual has tangled memories in the center of his mind. I have to get to them.”

“You’ve harmed the guy—his eyes and nose are bleeding!” I protest. “Violet. We’ll take what you’ve discovered, and then wipe his memory of us—before you do serious damage.”

“Catching Whitegrove and revealing the truth is paramount. This situation stretches far beyond Madison and her missing tiara. Josef could be involved. Everything ties back to Whitegrove and his decision to hide Viktor’s identity.

I need every single memory of dealings with witches from this man. I need solid evidence for Dorian!”

“Fuck, Violet. This is too much! Peter is as important to others as Holly is to you. Like her, he’s caught up in this against his will. The man has a family.”

I’d pictured us walking in and questioning the man, using subtle magic to find answers and then removing memories of the meeting, but not this. Never this.

“Violet!” I shout as the man’s feet slip from under him. “You can’t wipe his mind if he’s unconscious.”

Or dead.

Violet bows her head and takes a deep breath, hands trembling where she holds the man’s shirt. I edge toward Violet and place my hand over her fingers. “I’ll take care of his memories.”

The magic bolts through me, darker than the shadows, and I stare at her open-mouthed as she wipes blood from her own cheeks, blackened eyes meeting mine. I’m not with my Violet; I’ve spent the last few minutes watching Dorian’s daughter.

Dropping my hold on Violet, my head whirls, and I struggle to focus on lulling the injured, terrified man with a soothing mind spell. “What the hell is happening here, Violet?”

“Holly isn’t safe until this is over. I’m responsible for what happened to her, and she’s suffering. I don’t care what it takes to fix everything ,” she says with quiet control. “Or what I need to do keep everybody protected.”

I rake both hands through my hair, fighting the distracting thoughts interrupting my spell.

Violet’s plan to tell Cornelius about Viktor wasn’t only because she wanted the body away from Dorian’s interference.

This is about Holly. Us. Protecting what’s precious in her world.

Can’t Violet see the similarity to her mother’s actions?

Violet’s loyalties switched, but she’s still a hybrid prepared to harm people to keep those she loves safe and alive.

I force down the horrible truth. Violet believes we’re battling the witches and Josef for the greater good, but wars aren’t won without sacrifices.

The horror freezing me isn’t whether those sacrifices are human or supe, or if they deserve their fate, but what exactly we’re fighting for. Does the greater good even exist?