Page 47

VIOLET

The death I sensed before isn’t within the area I’m standing, but I’m closer now that we’ve entered the space.

I inhale the dankness inside the high-ceilinged cave as I take in the evidence around me.

Although created by past erosion, the stone remained intact in recent years, but leaving evidence of the teens’ damage covering the stone walls.

Leif waits at the cave’s entrance, his broad figuring blocking the fading light while Rowan holds his phone against the uneven, rocky wall.

“Definitely the place,” he says, voice echoing faintly.

Rowan’s phone screen displays a copy of one of Sarah’s photos: an image of ‘Nicky’ and ‘Guy’ in the middle of a crudely drawn love heart.

The old photograph is an exact match for the letters carved into the pale stone beside Rowan’s phone.

Other names in jagged letters are chipped into the wall surrounding us, some larger than others. The slab the photo depicts teens sitting on is in the same position too, including remains of a fleece blanket draped across the top.

“Do you think somebody came here recently?” asks Leif cautiously.

“Doubtful. No disturbance to the cave floor,” I reply.

“Blankets?” Leif suggests.

“This variety of material doesn’t decompose quickly.” I take hold of the once-rainbow colored item. “Filthy but intact. Rowan?”

He stares as I hold out the blanket. “You expect me to get psychometry readings from a moldy piece of cloth? Loads of people sat on this over the years, and the blanket wasn’t wrapped around anything suspicious.”

“Try anyway.”

“And Dorian told us not to touch anything, Violet.” I arch a brow, and he sighs before sitting on the slab, grasping the threadbare blanket. Rowan’s eyes close in focus before he shakes his head. “Nothing.”

I grit my teeth when he hands the material back to me.

“Let’s look for more items.”

Please don’t let this be a dead end in more ways than one.

Grayson joins me in scouting the darker areas of the cave, and crouches down to take a hold of a discarded glass item from amongst fallen rock. “Beer bottle. Want to try psychometry on this, Rowan?”

“Unless someone had their skull cracked by this, I, again, doubt there’s anything significant attached.

” He takes the bottle, shakes his head, and shoves it back at Grayson.

“There isn’t the faintest trace of anything.

Can you let me reserve magic energy for later? Just in case someone else is here.”

“Rowan’s correct. If these items are from long ago, we can’t hope to find anything. Check for runes instead, Rowan. Are the ones depicted at the edge of Sarah’s photos still here? I can’t detect any magical energy, but if faded runes exist, we can now see the entire shape and what they were for.”

Rowan shines his phone flashlight along the wall then downward before pausing to check his screen. “There’s the edge of a shape beside this name on Sarah’s photo, but the rune isn’t on the stone anymore. Somebody chipped the rock to remove the runes.”

I join him in examining the spot. A patch below the graffitied word “Donna” is lighter and not naturally weathered. But how recently were the runes removed?

“There’s something else that isn’t on the photos.” Rowan points.

M R

“Madison and Sarah’s brother?” he suggests.

“Someone scrawled YOU’RE DEAD,” says Grayson from across the cave. “Here.”

I straighten with interest. “Beside Madison’s name? Or near an M? R?”

“No. Under other random insults.” He points to a section covered in scrawled names and unpleasant opinions. “Whoever this was directed at wrote FUCK YOU in black marker underneath.”

“Well, what a harmonious time Sarah and her friends had at their gatherings. Was this an older version of the town’s fire night ritual where teen rivalries overspill?”

Rowan frowns, inclines his head toward Leif, then mouths ‘really?’

Leif mutters as he finally steps into the wide space. “ Rivalries leading to murder on fire night?”

Oh.

“Do you think Madison died in here?” Grayson interrupts. “Or Sarah’s brother?”

“Don’t say that,” says Leif.

“Why? It’s a strong possibility, but nobody died in this particular cave.

” I stride across the space into the darker area where the ceiling lowers.

“This leads deeper into the caverns.” I point to a gap in the cracked stone, narrow but large enough to allow entry.

“This is most excellent. Even somebody Leif’s size could fit through. ”

Rowan groans. “It’s too late in the day to explore mysterious passages. Let’s wait for Dorian.”

“Agreed,” adds Leif swiftly.

“This isn’t mysterious. The gap occurred due to the acidic conditions that affects limestone in this way.” I slant my head. “Such as the dripping water I can hear beyond this tunnel.”

Leif mumbles expletives as I crawl through the claustrophobic space, my jacket snagging on the top.

I emerge into another cavernous area, one darker with no natural light filtering across the layered rock.

As I study the wall adorned with more graffiti, Rowan pulls himself out of the tunnel before taking a flashlight from his backpack.

“Always prepared, Rowan,” says Grayson as he appears too.

“Prepared for investigations with Violet? Oh, yeah.” A beam emerges from the flashlight. “I’d rather not use my witch light and waste magic energy. Or my phone battery.”

Leif drags himself through the opening then stands and brushes dust from his knees. “Fun times.”

Rowan shines the flashlight from floor to the higher ceiling along walls slick with water, then lights the way forward.

We follow a side tunnel first, a narrow path patched with moss. But it ends abruptly at a wall of collapsed stone.

“Dead end,” mutters Rowan, sweeping the beam across empty rock. He turns and redirects the beam, catching a narrow opening behind a crumbling slab.

“There,” he says. “The real path through.”

“Oh!” I stride across the cave to another narrow point, and peer through. “How long is this passageway?”

“Not long I hope,” says Leif. “We’re getting farther from the entrance.”

He stumbles as Grayson slaps him on the back. “Don’t stress. There’s nobody else in the caves.”

“Nobody we can detect,” I add. “But the magic energy is stronger the farther in we go.”

“But there could be bodies.” Leif takes a deep breath. “What would Madison’s body look like after all this time?”

“Skeletal. Just bones,” says Rowan.

“Okay.” Leif’s throat bobs.

“Unless Viktor preserved Madison in some way?” suggests Grayson.

“Oh, crap, no.” Leif eyes the tunnel. “Like a mummy?”

Rowan snorts. “This isn’t a movie, Leif.”

“I doubt Viktor would’ve possessed the equipment to perform ancient Egyptian rituals. If Viktor killed somebody and wanted to hide his crime, the man would not preserve a body.”

“Well, he was a psycho, and we presume his dad has embalmed him ,” says Leif. “I really don’t want to see something… like that.”

Grayson splutters, and Leif shoots him a look.

“You hang out with Violet Blackwood, investigator of murders, and animal necromancer. How can you expect to avoid bodies, Leif?”

“Animal necromancer? What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.

Grayson tramples through the stones until he’s facing me. “Quack.”

Behind him, Rowan snickers, and Leif chuckles too.

I clench my fists by my side. “How droll, Grayson.”

“You haven’t used necromancy on a person yet.”

“Are you deliberately annoying me?” I ask him. “Necromancy—or lack thereof— created this scenario.”

“Well, Grayson created this,” comments Rowan as he joins us. “He took Viktor’s heart.”

“Grayson was helping Holly,” I say.

But he prompted my thoughts again—would I use necromancy if the chance came? If I crossed that line, how could I reconcile my similarity to Viktor... or the ones killing shifters?

“Do you still want to reanimate a person?” Leif asks.

“Are you volunteering?” Grayson smirks.

“What is with your attitude tonight?” he retorts, and shoves Grayson in the shoulder.

“Grayson behaves in this manner when he’s under stress or duress.” I side step a fallen boulder in the widening passageway. “Haven’t you noticed?”

“ You once wouldn’t notice.” Grayson steps into the passageway, and Rowan shines the flashlight after his tall figure.

“Duress, huh?”

“I do not wish to hear any comments about Grayson’s trustworthiness, Rowan. He admitted his duplicity and wishes to preserve his life.”

“Here!” calls Grayson.

This tunnel doesn’t require crawling, but fallen rocks make navigation harder until they block our advance, and the faint energy grows.

“I sensed death, though, and now that I’m deeper into the caverns, I’m aware of something else familiar. Traces of magic.”

“And death?” asks Grayson.

“Madison is here.”

“Where?” Leif’s voice rises in alarm, and he grabs Rowan’s torch.

Magic consumes the air as if that’s what sucks away the oxygen deep in the caverns. I reach out for a presence, but the magic is too intense to pick out an individual or group.

“Someone is trying to hide this spot. We’re standing near death, but not directly at the place.”

“Omigod.” Leif drags hair from his face.

“If the bodies were somewhere a human could easily enter, Sarah would’ve acted years ago. Madison and her brother must be hidden elsewhere.”

“If they’re here.” Leif shakes his head. “The cave system is huge, Violet.”

I step up to him. “That will not stop me exploring until I discover the source of the magic.”

“Shouldn’t one or two of us wait outside?” asks Leif. “Show Dorian where to go if he arrives?”

“You’re crazy if you think I’ll wait out there for him,” says Grayson.

Rowan holds up his phone. “There’s no reception here. We’ve no way to contact you.”

“Then we stick together,” I say. “If Dorian’s tracking spell can detect me from a distance, I’m sure the magic can ignore rock.”

Leif’s mouth clamps closed. Clearly that isn’t the answer he wished for.

Every ounce of me wishes to explore each rocky inch of the place so I can find something pertinent that’ll garner favor with Dorian.

“One more place?” I suggest. “Then I promise we will leave.”

Leif and Rowan exchange a look.

“If we do find anything, we go straight to the entrance and wait for Dorian,” says Rowan.

“Agreed. This way.”

A few meters onward, a boulder blocks our route. I hold both palms on the stone. “Grayson?”

The boulder is heavier than it looks, but between us, the stone shifts with a grinding scrape. Dust spills from the walls as we drag it aside, revealing a narrow gap beyond. Piled up stones prevent us from walking ahead.

“These appear deliberately stacked, not accidentally fallen,” I say. “Hiding something. The floor contains too many stones to predict if anybody apart from a witch approached recently and disturbed the area. But the magic residue is fresh. There’s something behind them.”

“But moveable for us?” Grayson asks.

The air thickens, magic resisting as something embedded in the stone pushes back, fogging my thoughts, and I have an urge to turn back.

No.

“There’s a misdirection charm woven through the locking runes,” I murmur. “No wonder nobody found this.”

Rowan’s lips press together. “Well, we have.”

“How can a witch place heavy rocks there?”

“Elemental magic, Leif,” says Rowan as his flashlight beams. “The witch can remove and reform the rock afterward. But it’s locked.”

“How do you lock a pile of stones?” Leif’s eyes widen. “Oh. Runes. I can’t see any.”

“Hold this, Leif.” Rowan passes him the flashlight and steps forward to press his palm into the center. “Hopefully nothing too protective.”

The quiet dripping from the caverns fills the silence as a faint white light flickers in the four corners and hewn runic shapes appear. Incomplete Whitegrove runes .

But a complete match to those used to seal the mausoleum.

“Well then. We know how to break this locking spell, don’t we?” A broad smile creeps across my face.

“Oh hell,” mutters Leif. “I love when you smile, but not like that .”

“If the magic is recent, Cornelius came here,” says Grayson.

“And he moved the rocks for a reason.” I bite my lip. “To remove or add something in the space behind?”

“Do you think Sarah is in there?” Leif whispers. “The guy she left the lodge with might’ve killed her.”

“There’s no freshly deceased human nearby.”

“I didn’t know you could detect quite that specifically; now I wish I didn’t,” he replies.

“But hopefully at least one dead person.”

“That’s too much glee for somebody about to find something unpleasant, Violet.”

“Let’s find out.” Rowan takes his backpack from Leif and looks at Grayson pointedly. “I have chalk in here, since I’m always prepared . We can draw the runes connected correctly again.”

“Let me.” I take the chalk from him. “In case the magic tries to break your back again.”

“Interesting that the Whitegroves mastered both elemental and mind magic,” says Grayson. “Like Rowan. Isn’t that rare?”

I straighten. “And necromancy.”

“Huh? Rowan isn’t a necromancer.”

“No. Not Rowan.” A bolt of truth hits my mind. Why didn’t I consider this days ago? “Viktor was a Trinity witch.”

“A what?” asks Leif.

“My mother was one before Dorian turned her hybrid. Trinity witches are experts in all three types of magic: mind, elemental…” I trail off.

And the type that earned Eloise a place at Ravenhold.

“Necromancy,” finishes Leif. “Does that mean Cornelius is Trinity too?”

“Unlikely. Trinity magic isn’t a hereditary trait, and the witches are rare and identifiable. Cornelius couldn’t hide himself if he was Trinity.”

But my mother gifted me the powers: the witch blood inside my hybrid state mirrors a Trinity witch, only mine is weaker because I have Dorian’s blood too.

“Viktor would’ve been hard to control,” says Rowan. “Hard to kill . Cornelius wouldn’t have power against his son.”

“That explains a lot,” says Leif.

“Oh, very much so.” I hold my hand out to Rowan. “Chalk. Let’s draw this rune and watch the rocks crumble.”

Silence takes over as I carefully repeat the task that aided us in entering the Whitegrove mausoleum.