Page 48

VIOLET

Our experience at the mausoleum saves time, as I correctly draw the four shapes into one rune on the first try. As I chalk the last white line in the center of the barrier, a crack splits the silence, followed by the heavy thud of stone hitting stone, as they collapse forward.

The guys stand farther back this time, in case the magic hits back as it did at the mausoleum, but only the dust thrown up by the broken spell touches them.

We’re facing an uneven arch of limestone above the pile, and I step forward onto the highest part of the fallen rocks, leaving the guys inside their cloud of dust.

I edge across the stones that fell inward, surrounded by the magic filling this hidden place, almost as breathable as the damp air. The slick, eroded walls lead to a higher roof, and water runs slowly into a shallow pool near the far wall.

I halt as the secrets the caves guarded for years reveal themselves. In the stillness, the drops of water echo like a clock marking the seconds passing, but time isn’t relevant to the occupants anymore.

Two skeletons: one lying close to the collapsed rock, the other laid out inside a natural alcove in the wall.

“Stay out there, Leif.”

Leif doesn’t ask me why. He doesn’t need to.

I step onto the uneven floor, beside the nearest skeleton. Decomposed scraps of material cling to some of the bones, but there’s nothing to identify this victim. Madison? No. The girl in the photo with Viktor appeared a similar height and build to me; this skeleton resembles Grayson’s height.

“Sarah’s brother,” says Rowan flatly.

I glance over a shoulder. Only Rowan stands on this side of the fallen stone, pale faced, his flashlight shining at the skeleton before us. Rowan doesn’t move an inch as I walk around the edge of the tiny pool to the alcove containing the second set of bones.

I kneel to examine this one’s clothing fragments but again, little remains. The color has dulled, but the material is thinner than the scraps hanging from the other body.

Only this time there’s something identifying this person.

“Madison?” asks Rowan as he approaches.

“Look at her head,” I whisper and stand.

Rowan’s beam catches the Whitegrove tiara glinting in the light before the flashlight crashes to the stones.

“No,” he says hoarsely.

As he retrieves the flashlight, I remove the tiara to confirm its identity. The purple jewels are intact, the tiara the same weight in my hands, and the silver as untarnished as when I wore it on my head.

“Yes. This is the Whitegrove tiara.”

Rowan balks. “The sick bastard. Cornelius could’ve hidden this anywhere he wanted, even in a corner of the cave or with Viktor’s body but chose to place it on the murdered girl’s skull.”

“Cornelius must’ve brought Viktor here, along with the evidence against him,” I say.

But where is Viktor?

My scan of the cavern lands on a pile of stones close to Madison’s bones.

These could’ve fallen from the roof, but I’m not fooled.

If an elemental witch blocked the entrance with rock, he could move what’s inside too.

I push through the smaller top stones with my boot and Rowan takes a sharp breath as I uncover a hand.

Not a skeletal one.

With the delight Leif found abhorrent, I get onto my hands and knees and deftly remove more of limestone chunks.

“Fuck,” says Grayson behind me. “What is this place?”

“Body disposal area,” I say as I dig, and Rowan retches.

A meter below the jagged rock, I uncover a recently deceased face.

“Viktor.” I stand and wave a hand at the partially revealed, but now squashed, corpse. “I don’t recognize him with a broken nose. What do you think?”

Grayson looks down. “Yeah.”

“What a waste of Clement’s body-reconstruction skills only for Cornelius to crush his son’s features beneath stone.”

My smile broadens. Cornelius’s earlier smugness that I wouldn’t find his missing son was premature, and I’ll welcome the expression on his face when he’s confronted with our findings. Dorian will arrive soon, and I can show him my prize.

Rowan says nothing, frozen, with a piece of cloth clutched tightly in one hand.

Footsteps thud as Leif jumps through the fallen barrier, his eyes wide as he looks at Rowan’s hand. “What’s that?” he asks, “What’s wrong, Rowan?”

The unease and disgust I sensed from Rowan earlier magnifies, and he doesn’t reply.

“A dead person wore that, Leif. Rowan can see their death,” I say.

“Madison?” whispers Leif.

Rowan avoids Leif’s eyes and pushes the evidence into his backpack. “Robert.”

“Cornelius Whitegrove can’t deny involvement any longer.

Either he knew about Viktor’s hidden murder victims or he hid them himself.

Cornelius is attempting to erase Viktor a second time.

” I gesture around the cave. “In here. There’s more than enough evidence for Dorian to arrest and question the man. ”

“Add in the mausoleum evidence, and we can bet that Cornelius knows everything about the recent necromancy used on shifters,” says Leif.

“Names that Dorian needed from Viktor,” Grayson adds. “Dorian can get them from Cornelius instead. Reckon that’ll help us?”

“Marginally.”

Rowan takes a tentative step to look at Viktor’s face. “Once we show Cornelius this evidence, he’ll have no choice but to tell us. If the witches involved discover that Cornelius has become a liability rather than an asset, he’s a dead man. I’d take Dorian’s custody as the better option.”

“When we find Whitegrove, we should lock the bastard in here and let him rot,” mutters Leif, as he points at the tiara.

“Whoa.” Grayson stares at him. “That’s extreme.”

“Extreme?” His voice rises. “He covered up a murder. Two. What if Sarah’s brother was alive when Viktor put him in here?”

“What would be the point in that?” asks Grayson.

“Um. Because evil fuckers do things like that?” Leif snaps back. “How and where did Robert die, Rowan? In here?”

Leif’s body goes rigid when Rowan doesn’t answer. I stare at how close the male skeleton lies to the exit and look at Rowan whose expression answers me.

There are people in this world much, much worse than my father.

Taking a sharp breath, Leif moves away from Robert’s bones, his face hardening as he stares at the pool of water.

“If Cornelius hadn’t allowed Viktor to live, Robert might be alive. The spells in mine and Holly’s minds would never exist. And what happened to Holly… the shifters…”

I take his hands, and squeeze, sensing the anger pumping through him.

“ Cornelius could’ve killed Sarah’s brother, not Viktor,” says Grayson. “His letter mentioned her parents’ deaths, but not her brother. Almost a threat.”

“Viktor aided the witches, but they would’ve committed the recent atrocities whether Viktor was alive or dead, Leif.” He blinks and looks down at me. “Viktor isn’t the only witch capable of instilling spells inside people’s heads or using necromancy.”

“But who are the other necromancers?” asks Rowan. “Viktor didn’t work alone; we’ve seen that.”

“We should get out of here and wait for Dorian,” says Leif. “Is he at the caves yet?”

“The magic in here’s too strong to tell.” I attempt to focus, but I’m in a chamber engulfed by Whitegrove energy, and it’s like wading through mud. My eyes widen. “And getting stronger.”

“Stronger, how?” asks Rowan.

I move back to the cave entrance, and step onto a rock, slanting my head. Faint movement comes from the tunnel we last walked through, and the Whitegrove magic intensifies.

“He’s here.”

Leif’s whole body stiffens. “What?”

“Cornelius Whitegrove.”

“ Here ?” asks Grayson. “Are you kidding?”

I slice him a look. “Since when do I ‘kid,’ Grayson?”

“How close?” asks Rowan, and he snatches the tiara before shoving it into his rucksack. “We need to get out.”

A pulse moves through the rock beneath my feet, and I lose my footing, the tilting throwing off my balance. I stumble back a step, as the broken barrier begins to move.

Stones grind as they reshape, obscuring the tunnel behind. Cornelius’s figure comes into view, and I make to attack, ready to subdue him before he can enter, but the rocks move faster, pulling together like magnets as they re-stack.

Magic. I need more magic.

“He’s sealing us in,” I shout. “He’s going to run. Rowan! Help stop the spell!”

The cavern floor shifts as dense magic pulses through the disappearing space at the entrance.

Rowan steps forward, his own magic flaring, but a wave of Cornelius’s slams into Rowan.

He lets out a shout, flung backward, and crashes into me.

I catch Rowan’s arms just enough to slow his fall before he hits the ground.

Cornelius stands in the small gap on top of the tallest boulder, one hand stretched ahead of him.

I lunge toward him, boots skidding on loose rock, Grayson with me.

Before Grayson reaches the witch, magic lifts the vampire from his feet and he’s thrown, smacking into the wall as he slides to the ground.

“Leif, no!” I shout as he hurtles forward too.

Cornelius doesn’t even look at him and lifts two fingers in his direction.

“Stay there.” Leif’s limbs lock, and his mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out. “Not that you’re a problem. Your mind already belongs to the Whitegroves.”

The hybrid coils, vision sharpening at the edges, blood rushing fast through every limb, and my vision narrows on Cornelius’s expressionless face.

Before I can strike, a white light sears my vision and severs my link to the present.

I lose awareness, confused as to where I am, images of the shifter attack at the lodge projected before me as if I’m there again.

No. My mind slams back hard against his attack, the magic unable to move me or penetrate far into my head. I drag my mind away from the day I died at the lodge, and back to the caverns and scene I’m in the midst of now.

“That was worth a shot. I should’ve known you’d resist.”

Cornelius hasn’t moved, standing in a dark, sharply tailored suit more suited to his business premises than a trip to a cavern, perfectly controlled as he absorbs the energy trapped inside here for years.

The hybrid rage rises and claws beneath my skin, urging me to tear through him, and he runs a casual look the length of me. “Kill me, and you’ll lose them.”