Poisoned Shadow: An Urban Fantasy Supernatural Detective Mystery (The Shadow Series Book 2)

by Candice Bundy

  “That sounds like a discussion to be had over a bottle of wine,” Becka replied.

  “Or whiskey?” Astrid laughed. “I heard you’re fond of it.”

  Becka glanced back and saw Saige and Luce trailing behind them, knowing where all the whiskey had actually gone. Luce shrugged her shoulders. She shook her head in return.

  Chapter 17

  “I would ask you to explain it all again, but I can’t bear to hear it and I doubt you’re up to it,” Maura said. She sounded as tired as Becka felt. At least she didn’t appear angry.

  After being ushered into Maura’s chambers, Astrid and Becka had run through Hanna’s accident with her in excruciating detail. Becka had done most of the talking, aware of the tears running down her cheeks and the emotional waver in her voice.

  “As I’m sure Astrid has told you, accidents happen, even to those with profoundly powerful gifts. I agree with Astrid; you need not blame yourself. Take responsibility, definitely, but do not torture yourself.”

  Becka nodded but held her tongue.

  “Unfortunately, harming one of House Hawthorne’s places us in a very delicate position.” Maura paced, lost in thought and no doubt strategizing their next move.

  “I would never hurt Hanna,” Becka spurt out. “She’s been so kind to me.”

  Maura looked at her thoughtfully. “I would not imagine you capable, daughter. You may be my most stubborn child, but you are much too altruistic to harm another without great cause. And yet, Hawthorne may stringently disagree with my perspective. We must handle this with all due caution.”

  Becka nodded again. “What would you have me do?” The irony that it had taken this tragedy to bring her into step with her mother brought a heated flush to her cheeks.

  “Whatever you do, do not engage with the Hawthornes directly. I will set up a meeting with them and drive the conversation of reparations. We will, of course, offer generous compensation, but I need a few hours to think on it and I need to speak with Elder Langdon on expectations of what House Willow will be able to offer. Until then, keep your head down. Let me handle the next move with them.”

  Becka nodded in quick agreement. She had no need to seek out the Hawthornes’ accusing glares.

  “There are promises we made in the contract,” Astrid suggested. “Offers of requested trade goods from our territory. I could arrange to have an advance shipment prepared?”

  “See to it. It is a wise move before we begin negotiations,” Maura replied.

  “Not to distract from the seriousness of the situation, but Becka’s performance today with Elder Langdon means we can move forward with identifying a vocation for her.”

  “Vocation?” Becka asked, shocked that Astrid would be thinking of house profit at a time like this. “Shouldn’t we be concerned about my ability to control my powers, lest I cause another horrifying, life-ruining failure?”

  “Do not be dramatic, Becka,” Maura replied. “It was an accident, after all, and life will go on for both you and Hanna. Life will also go on for Elder Langdon, because of your work today. Think of the others you can aid. Besides, now you will be even more careful, likely to a fault.”

  Becka was speechless. Perhaps her mother was right, perhaps she should just focus on the next person she could help. But her heart still ached for the pain she’d brought to Hanna on this ill-fated day.

  “We have not come up with a title yet, but how does something like Magic Remover sound?” Astrid asked them both.

  Becka stared in shock. How could she flip her emotions around like that? “That title makes me sound like a cleaning tool.”

  “I’m open to other suggestions,” Astrid replied.

  “So, what, you will send me out to remove all the flubbed spells, conjurings, and curses? Sounds… like a lot of travel.” On second thought, it was an opportunity to learn and see the world. Which could be amazing. Her interest was piqued.

  Thinking back on Hanna’s tears and anger, guilt weighed heavy in Becka’s gut. How could she be thinking of such things after what had happened today?

  “It sounds,” Astrid leaned in close, “like a lucrative opportunity for our house. You think keeping rich humans looking like they’re in their twenties is… exciting?” She barked out a laugh. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve virtually lifted and tucked the same saggy jowls. But never mind. Besides, I won’t be sending you out.”

  Becka frowned. “You won’t?”

  “No, of course not. Duchess Maura will.” She winked at her.

  Becka shook her head at Astrid’s callousness. When she was duchess, she’d do better. Assuming she one day held her mother’s position.

  “What if I can come up with an alternative?” Becka asked.

  “Something besides removing curses?” Astrid shrugged. “As long as it’s something more lucrative, I would love to hear your ideas.”

  Becka shook her head. Astrid’s idea didn’t sound bad, especially the travel element. But Becka still wanted to choose her future for herself, as much as she could.

  “Enough, you two,” Maura said. “Off you go, Becka. Astrid and I have damage control to do.”

  Chapter 18

  Becka had almost reached her room when Calder strode into view with Alvilda wrapped in a diaphanous forest-green silk dress, possessively clinging to his sleeve. Becka forced a smile, maintaining it even when Calder stopped in the middle of the hallway, blocking her passage with the politics of custom.

  “Fair eve, Calder. Lady Alvilda.”

  “Fair eve, Becka,” he replied.

  Alvilda inclined her head. “Lady Becka.”

  Calder shrugged off Alvilda’s arm and took a half step closer to Becka, and in response Luce moved in closer, mirroring Calder’s distance to Becka. Calder didn’t appear to notice Luce’s reaction.

  “I heard there was an altercation with House Hawthorne?”

  Becka’s heart sank into her stomach. “I see news of the accident has traveled unusually fast.”

  “So it’s true?” His frown was mirrored on Alvilda’s features.

  “Unfortunately, yes. Hanna was injured, but Elder Langdon of House Willow has claimed fault for the accident.” However, Becka would always feel responsible. How could she not?

  “That is quite unfortunate. Mother has endeavored for years to gain an alliance with House Hawthorne, who, as you likely know, can be powerfully temperamental.”

  Becka considered pointing out that fire elementalists couldn’t be expected to be anything but temperamental, but it didn’t seem appropriate at the time.

  “Both Rowan and Willow will make reparations,” she replied, but it sounded hollow, even to her ears.

  “Pride cannot be bought,” Alvilda said, concern etching her features.

  Alvilda’s words caused Becka to pause. “I trust Maura can smooth things over, or at least buy forgiveness.”

  Calder frowned at Alvilda, who shrugged in response. “Are you on your way to dinner?” he asked Becka.

  “No, I’m wiped out,” Becka replied. “Besides, I spoke with Maura and she advised I keep my head down.”

  He shook his head. “That is too bad. It would be an opportunity to publicly apologize to House Hawthorne. I have come to know Alain during these past few months; if you delay, it will only worsen the situation. I think this is a time to not follow her advice.”

  Alvilda gave her an encouraging smile. “I’m sure our heir would love to help smooth things over.”

  “I will be happy to apologize, but will not undermine Maura’s plans. I’m sure you want me to follow her lead?”

  “I do not think this is wise, Becka,” Calder replied. “Alain will see any delay as a slight.”

  Sure, they were due a profoundly penitent apology from her, but the last thing Becka wanted was to act without Maura’s approval.

  Will Alain call off the engagement over this fiasco?

  The moment the thought crossed her mind, a wave of guilt washed over her. She wasn’t proud of
herself for this line of thinking. It felt a twinge mercenary. Hopefully Astrid’s callousness wasn’t rubbing off on her.

  “I hear what you’re saying, but I can’t make a move without Maura’s go-ahead. She was explicit.”

  Alvilda looked like she’d bitten into a lemon. She huffed and turned her gaze away from Becka.

  “You have picked a curious time to toe the line, sister,” Calder replied.

  They’d hit an impasse, and Becka was done with this conversation. “If you’ll excuse me, Calder? I’ll see you at the council tomorrow.”

  “As you say.” He stepped aside, Alvilda following his lead, allowing them to pass.

  An hour later, Becka was up to her ears in bubbles when she heard a knock on her bedroom door. After a few minutes, the scent of lemons and roast sweet potatoes wafted into the bathroom. It was enough of an incentive to motivate Becka to exit the tub, quickly towel off, and wrap a silken robe around her mostly dry self.

  She swept into the bedroom, her mood buoyed somewhat by the bubble bath and the promise of confections. Brownies were a balm to the soul. Luce, Saige, and Quinn stood around a large platter of food.

  Seeing Quinn again, anxiety prickled at her skin. They hadn’t seen each other since Maura had walked in on them. The plight with House Hawthorne faded into the background as her experience with the book rushed back to her. “I have to tell you something about the book!”

  Quinn gave her a quick nod.

  “It appears they didn’t bring enough servings,” Luce said. “I’ll call down and ask for another.”

  “Although the sweet potato hash looks amazing, it looks like they got my order right,” Becka replied. She reached between the shifters and picked up the platter of desserts nestled in the middle of the dinner plates on the tray.

  Saige laughed, her hand rubbing the back of her neck. “I thought the desserts were for sharing?”

  “This is my dinner. Order your own desserts if you’d like some.”

  “You’re having three desserts for dinner?” Quinn asked.

  “It’s been a long day, Enforcer,” Becka replied. “Between Langdon, Hanna, and then Calder and his not-so-sweet lover, I’m ready to call it a day. Plus, I skipped an entrée. The calories net out.”

  She carried her platter over to her bed with all of them watching her movements.

  “You’re dripping on the floor,” Saige said.

  “You’re eating in bed?” Luce asked.

  “You’ll get the bed wet,” Quinn said.

  Becka frowned in their general direction. “Why is everyone being so judgy?”

  “Mmmph. I told you, Saige, the fae are bourgeoise savages,” Luce said.

  “Uh huh,” Saige mumbled, downing a mouthful of hash. “Complete heathens.”

  Quinn walked over to the couch across from Becka’s bed and took a seat. “Would you ladies mind giving Becka and me some time to talk in private?”

  Luce put her plate down and walked over to Becka. “No can do, Enforcer.”

  “Pardon me? You can’t imagine I’m a threat to Becka.”

  Luce’s deriding snort filled the room. “You’re no threat to her health, Quinn. But the duchess has ordered us not to allow you a private audience with her heir.”

  “They’re chaperoning us, as if they’re paragons of virtue,” Becka replied.

  “If the term fits,” Luce replied, hands in the air.

  “Don’t I oversee your assignments with Brent now?” Becka replied.

  Luce leaned over the bed, testing strips in hand to check Becka’s food for poison. “Are you paying our bills? ‘Cause I’m sure that’s the duchess.”

  Becka frowned. “Ouch.”

  Luce carefully pressed her testing strips against the lavender lemon bars, then the brownies, and lastly she came to the croissant bread pudding with raspberries and chocolate drizzles. She frowned and then used the spoon to scoop up a chunk of the ingredients, glaze dripping from the spoon. Luce smashed the test into the gooey goodness, a look of disgust on her face.

  “This looks… decadent,” Luce muttered, extracting the strip by the end with her sharp fingernails to avoid covering her fingers with glaze.

  “Do you need to smash some raspberries too?” Becka asked.

  Luce shook her head. “They laced your teacup with poison via a liquid poured into the mug. But that doesn’t mean it was one of the kitchen staff. Besides, we’ve been watching them and have seen nothing untoward. The working theory is that it’s someone who has access to the kitchen, but that’s anyone in the house. This one is all clear.”

  “Thanks,” Becka replied, digging into the bread pudding.

  “You discovered something about the book?” Quinn asked.

  “Uh huh,” she mumbled around a mouthful of warm glazed croissanty goodness.

  Becka grabbed her bag from the floor, tossing it onto the bed. She opened the bag and then motioned for Quinn to pull out the book, as she didn’t have her gloves on. He fished around for the ancient tome, found it, and then placed the book on the bed at her feet, opening it to a random middle page.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  Becka recounted her experience earlier with the tome, how the glyphs had gone transparent, how there were curious squiggles that had spelled out the word TEA over and over, and then how the book had gone back to normal after Becka had asked Hanna her questions.

  “I was hoping we could try getting the book to give up another clue. I feel like it somehow knew about Hanna’s connection to the tea, and I’d like to see if we could learn more,” Becka said.

  “Keep in mind this book is a Shadow-Dweller artifact. I’m thankful it alerted us to Hanna’s connection to the tea Vott used, but how can we know why it revealed what it did?” Quinn asked. “We can’t trust it, but perhaps the book can still be useful. We need to understand the pattern of what it does. Only then can we guess at the why.”

  “Agreed.” She took a bite of the fragrant lemon bar. “Oh, oh my gods. The lavender in these bars is truly inspired. It elevates them into another dimension entirely.”

  Quinn raised a brow in her direction. “You’re devouring those with such abandon.”

  Becka raised a brow right back at him. “Does my lack of decorum offend thee?”

  His rich baritone laugh rolled over her. She could almost forget the ache in her solar plexus. Almost.

  “Never.”

  Saige tsked in their general direction, a not-so-gentle reminder of Maura’s directive.

  “Maura’s not going to kick the enforcer out during an active investigation.”

  Saige and Luce both shrugged.

  “It’s unlikely you’d be disowned,” Quinn replied. “But, based on the conversation she had with Chief Elowen, she may still try and get me removed.”

  Becka held up her hands, one of which held a brownie while the other had a lemon bar. “In my defense, I apologize.”

  He sighed, shaking his head. “I accept, and I implore you to put down your weapons so we can focus on the book.”

  “I’ll shift my focus, but I’ll never give up my lemon bars,” she replied, putting down the brownie and focusing her attention on the tome. Becka pulled on the blankets, moving the book a little closer to her leg. “I see nothing other than the glyphs right now. You?”

  “Just the glyphs. Let’s see, last time you were talking to Hanna and it started to act funny. What if you talk about Saige or Luce right now and ask them something?”

  “You mean what if I started talking about Saige and asking her if she’s involved with the poisoning?” Becka watched the book, but nothing happened.

  Saige walked over to them, finished with her sweet potato hash, frowning at them both. “I’m not sure I enjoy being the subject of your testing with that thing.”

  “It’s not like you have anything to hide, do you?” Becka asked.

  On cue, the squiggly lines returned to the pages, surfacing under the glyphs once more, which again turned trans
parent. The lines slid around, their sinuous forms reminiscent of worms or snakes skulking about. But, unlike the episode with Hanna and the tea, they didn’t point towards Saige. Instead, they wandered around the page, seemingly without aim.

  “The lines are back,” Becka told Quinn, “but they don’t seem super interested in Saige. Let me try something else. Saige, is there anything Maura asked you to do besides chaperone Quinn and me?” she asked.

  The squiggles reacted, moving around as if agitated or excited. They formed patterns across the open pages, but not in a sunburst like before. This time the pattern reminded Becka of waves in water, as if the truth was trying to surface through the squiggles.

  “And don’t explain it to me,” Becka said. “Just give me a yes or no answer.”

  Saige’s gaze narrowed at her. “I don’t like where this is going, but yes.”

  “Did Maura ask you to watch Quinn and me for other reasons?”

  “Yes,” Saige replied.

  “Why would Maura want Saige to report on us?” Becka asked him.

  “Perhaps to be the first to hear updates on the investigation?” Quinn asked.

  The squiggles churned and heaved, roiling over each other. Words formed in the morass, coming and going almost too quickly to track. Becka caught a “first,” and then an “ear.” The last word she could make out was “more.”

  “I can make out the words first, ear, and more.” Becka looked to Saige. “Quinn is correct, but is there more to it?”

  She gave a curt nod. “Yes.”

  The lines swirled and swirled backwards upon themselves, and then settled into a sunburst pattern, but they didn’t angle towards Saige, as Becka had expected. Instead, they pointed to Quinn with a single word, repeated in every line.

  Informant.

  Becka gasped, and looked up at Quinn, who had no idea what the book had revealed. Was Maura worried Quinn wasn’t just here for the poisoning but to dig into House Rowan affairs?

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She recalled the council conversation about sending Iona out to gather defensive information for the house. Becka had questioned it as borderline sedition at the time. If Quinn found out, would he report them?