Page 34

VIOLET

I never imagined today’s outcome. When I took the risk of allowing Cornelius to take Viktor’s body, and then visited the funeral home to make my next move, I held my usual confidence that I’d stay in control.

But then Rowan snatched away that certainty by killing, and today Cornelius seized the reins.

But has he?

Cornelius attempted to arrest my investigations with spurious accusations and insistence that my father reprimand me. Once Dorian informs Cornelius that I’ve absconded, Whitegrove must expect my next move would be a visit to the mausoleum.

Cornelius failed because Dorian allowed me a chance to leave for a reason.

But he won’t know where I am. If Cornelius wants Dorian to locate my whereabouts, he wouldn’t risk telling him about the mausoleum without explaining why I’d visit.

But someone will look for me.

I’ve answered the guys’ questions regarding my encounter with Dorian and Cornelius repeatedly on our journey. Rowan especially required I tell the story several times, and each time grew quieter. Whitegrove mentioned him—what if the witch elaborates to Dorian why Rowan’s power needs squashing?

Witches camouflage their mausoleums between the human ones to keep the locations secret.

There’s a chance Penelope’s head contained false memories, or that Rowan’s skills would take us to the wrong location.

The possibility we’re at the incorrect cemetery evaporates the moment I climb the iron fence and detect the magic.

A row of mausoleums lines the back of the cemetery, dense trees casting shadows over the structures. Nearby gravestones from hundreds of years ago are overgrown and long forgotten, but the moss doesn’t spread to the mausoleums, and no weeds dare poke through the old pavers surrounding each one.

Some families chipped their names into the stone, but not the Whitegroves. Cracked steps lead down to the entrance of the one emitting magic, but I halt at a stone slab. Where’s the door? There’re no visible gaps as if I’ve encountered another wall.

We stand together and stare at the seemingly doorless building.

“Whitegrove wanted us to come here,” urges Grayson “He’s setting you up.”

“Cornelius’s set up involved slowing me down in the hope that Dorian arrests my movements altogether. Whether or not Cornelius expects me to visit, we shall speed up our exploration of the mausoleum.”

“We don’t know what’s inside. Viktor won’t be,” Grayson continues.

“But we investigate anyway.”

My lips pull tight as Grayson walks around to take me by the shoulders. “You’re not thinking straight anymore, Violet. What’s happened to you?”

“I’m trying to save your life, Grayson! Everybody’s!”

Grayson’s eyes go wide at my outburst. “Violet. Cornelius is taking advantage of your weaknesses. He’s smarter than you allow yourself to accept.”

Rowan and Leif hang back, not saying a word and certainly not stupid enough to agree with Grayson.

“If Viktor’s body isn’t inside the mausoleum, something will be.”

“Other dead Whitegrove bodies,” Grayson says.

“Clues!”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have come here,” mumbles Leif. “What if we’re watched? Dorian will know you’re missing by now.”

“Cornelius implied that he hasn’t placed the body here. Therefore, the man will not expect me to look here.”

“You can’t be sure about that.” Grayson turns my face back to him when I look away.

Rowan lowers his voice. “If Cornelius did expect us to come here, there’d be witches nearby, Grayson.”

“You didn’t detect the witches at the funeral home last night,” Leif says cautiously. “And look how that ended.”

“Nice one, Leif,” says Grayson as the conversation deadens.

“Cornelius didn’t need to post anybody nearby and risk more of his followers’ lives,” Leif says eventually. “There’s no way in.”

“We could break through?” I suggest. “Grayson and I.”

“But how thick is the stone?” asks Grayson. “We’re strong, but we can’t kick in solid walls.”

My jaw clenches tight. “Well, then. Proof. Here’s another reason Cornelius is assured I won’t walk into the mausoleum tonight.”

“Exactly. We won’t be able to get inside. Let’s go,” Leif presses.

“Incorrect.” I run my fingers along the edges, reaching out with my magic. “The Whitegroves need to enter the mausoleum to add bodies; otherwise, what is the point of owning one?”

“If you mean there’s a magical seal, that’ll connect to Whitegrove magic,” says Rowan.

Leif grunts to himself and mutters, “Witches. Not like they’d have padlocks.”

“Yeah. What if we need Whitegrove blood to break a seal?” asks Grayson.

“Your collective optimism astounds me.”

“And your belief that you can outsmart Whitegrove astounds me .”

My frayed temper snaps, and I whirl around to grab Grayson by the shirt, slamming him into the slab. Grayson hits hard, but the stone doesn’t crack, reinforcing his theory.

“Is this you or Josef talking?” I hiss. “Don’t you want me to walk in there?”

“Wow.” He glares back. “That’s what you think of me?”

I tighten my grip. “I think your doubts aren’t helpful. What has Josef told you about Cornelius’s plans?”

His mouth pulls tight. “My uncle doesn’t need to tell me anything. Cornelius’s power is obvious. Like Viktor’s was.”

Leif shifts, glancing between us.

“You’re questioning everything due to Viktor’s abilities and subsequent death? This whole issue is partially due to your decision to tell Eloise about my rendezvous with Viktor.”

Grayson shoves my hands away. “Whoa. Unfair. I’m not a future-sighted witch. How the fuck was I to know what Eloise would do? I couldn’t let you face Viktor alone.”

Silence thickens between us, the air heavy as if we were inside the mausoleum already.

“You continue to think you’re invincible, Violet.” Grayson taps the side of his head. “You haven’t lived in the real world long enough to accept that you’re not.”

“Stop. This isn’t helpful.” Rowan tugs on my arm as I reach out for Grayson again. “The Whitegroves aren’t blood magic users. We’ll take a closer look around the building and find exactly what the family uses to disguise a door.”

I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms as I calm myself, refusing to look at Grayson again. Accusing Grayson of his uncle’s influence takes away the other possibility—that he’s right.

Rowan climbs the steps, then crouches to take a photo of one corner of the stone with his phone, before pacing behind the mausoleum. “Runes,” he says, reappearing after circling the perimeter. “Each corner. All different.”

“Recognizable?” I ask. “Locking, I presume?”

“No. They’re too simple. I’ve researched Whitegrove runes, and these are similar, but the shapes aren’t fully formed.” He flicks through the four photos he took: two circles intersected with broken lines, a triangle inside a half-formed spiral, and diamond shapes with their points misaligned.

I frown at the picture. “What do you suggest?”

“Draw them in the corners of the ‘door.’”

I stroke a finger down the gray stone. “In what configuration and with what? We need an implement to mark the stone.”

“I’ll burn wood.” Grayson chuckles at Rowan’s suggestion, who narrows his eyes at him. “For charcoal. I am capable of lighting fire without causing the woods to burn down.”

“As am I.” I pause. “Now that I’ve mastered the ability.”

Rowan hops up the steps and disappears again. Before I can climb the steps to assist, he returns with a long stick in his hand. A flame emerges from his fingertips and blackens the tip, arching a brow at Grayson.

“Right.” Rejoining me, Rowan then crouches in front of the slab and places the phone on the ground as he examines the first photo.

I cross my arms as he carefully draws a circle at the base of the slab on the righthand side and then flicks back and forth through the images, before drawing the triangular rune on the left. He scratches his cheek as he scrolls between the remaining pictures, then etches one on the top left.

“What if it’s a trap?” asks Leif. “If Rowan draws the wrong rune in the wrong place, the magic might explode and injure us.”

Rowan pulls on his bottom lip and stands. He holds the stick and phone out to me. “Draw the fourth rune in the right upper corner.”

“Why me?”

“Because Leif has a point.” He indicates the fence line. “We’ll wait over there.”

“Are you not concerned I might die?” I ask.

“That concerns me every time we do shit like this, Violet,” he says wearily.

“Can we not talk about Violet dying?” asks Leif. “You’re giving me flashbacks.”

I study Rowan’s phone. “I hope you’re wrong and that I don’t die. Last time the resulting headache annoyed me immensely.”

The others retreat to the tall metal fence, Grayson hesitating before he does. I hold the point of the stick against the place that Rowan indicated and etch the diamond in the correct spot.

Magic fires—fortunately not in the blazing sense—as a faint glow moves from the base of the stone, upward, forming the beginning of an outline.

I stand, surging with delight, which dissipates as quickly as the illumination does. My teeth clench. “Wrong combination, Rowan.”

“Try again.” Rowan approaches and rubs at the black marks with a sleeve. “We have the answer; now we need the full solution.”

“There are twenty-four different combinations. That would take too long.” I seize Rowan’s phone and flick back and forth through the images. “This is a warding rune, but I bet it’s in pieces. The shapes must align in the right way.”

“What?” asks Leif.

“We must draw the runes together to make a new one in such a way that every line intersects”

“Worth a try,” says Leif.

“I do not try .”

As always, Leif finds the phrase amusing, chuckling to himself.

Shaking away distractions, I draw the circular rune, hesitantly adding in the lines to include the triangular one, then the others, creating a multi-sided shape. The edges of the slab glow again, but don’t fully create a doorway. With a small smile, I add the Circle’s symbol to the center.

The illusion breaks, and I’m thrown backward by pulsing magic, slamming my back on the sharp edge of the steps. “Ugh.”

“Are you okay?” Leif asks in alarm.

I stand and brush away dirt. “Well done on the theory the magic might trigger a protective spell. The force would’ve broken Rowan’s back.”

“Yeah. I’m unsure whether to be happy about that or not,” he replies. “But we have a door.”

“As I said, I never try. ” Not waiting for the guys, I slip my fingertips inside the edge and slide open the heavy stone.

As I walk inside, adjusting my eyesight, Leif calls after me, “We can’t risk more traps.”

“The only smell and aura in this place is arrested decomposition. Traces of magic, but not enough to worry about,” I call back.

The family built the room with precision, each stone tomb positioned in a deliberate pattern. Their lids are worn, names etched in archaic lettering, some eroded beyond recognition. Faint runes mark the walls, and several rusted candelabras overlook the tombs.

Quiet footsteps follow me into the tight space, and I look down in surprise as Leif holds my hand. “This place is creepy.”

I smile. “Yes. Wonderfully so.”

Breaking Leif’s grip on me, I walk to the center of the circle created by the five tombs pointing inward and stand on the Whitegrove rune. How many are occupied? I slide the lid from one, and Rowan’s sharp breath comes as stone grinds against stone.

I peep inside. “Not Viktor. Too long dead.” Effortlessly re-positioning the lid, I move to the next. “Are all the names on the tombs recorded in your research, Rowan?”

He nods and points at the fifth. “Cornelius’s is waiting.”

Leif makes a strangled sound. “This is too weird. I might wait outside. On watch.”

“They’re not vampires, Leif. The bodies won’t return to life,” says Grayson.

“Vampires? Violet said they uh… incinerate when they die. Permanently.”

Incinerate. Die. My hand trembles and I tuck it into a pocket before either guy sees. Why can’t I deal with what Rowan did?

“Bad comment, Leif,” whispers Grayson.

“What will you do if Viktor is here after all?” asks Leif.

“Take evidence.”

“And that evidence will be photos, right ?” says Rowan.

“Is this another recollection about Wesley’s toe? I removed that to aid in identifying a killer who intended to frame me.”

“And you’ll leave Viktor’s body parts attached?” Leif glances at the tomb, his wary face wan in the glimmering light Rowan conjured.

“I don’t want anybody to know that we’ve visited this location. Not yet. If I wandered off with a piece of Viktor, that would alert Cornelius.”

“Out of interest, which piece would you choose?” asks Grayson, smirking when Leif’s jaw slackens. “Just asking.”

“I don’t know, maybe?—”

“Stop!” Leif holds a palm up. “I’ll wait outside.”

“Again?” asks Grayson.

“Yeah, again. In case somebody followed us.” He steps closer to Grayson, fixing him with a look. “Like, Dorian, for instance.”

Grayson’s smirk drops and he bites his lip as he looks at the dank, claustrophobic space. “Actually, I might prefer to wait outside.”

“Dorian won’t follow. He’s suspicious and is likely to investigate Cornelius’s activities, Grayson. He’ll need to listen before he acts, and Cornelius would never mention Viktor and the mausoleum,” I say.

“Uh. Sure he will. Leif. Come on.”

As the pair leave, I kick open Cornelius’s unoccupied stone tomb with one thick-soled boot. “If I don’t find anything, I’ll be extremely upset.”