by Megan Marple
“I hate to interrupt your little pow-wow here, but is it almost time for my lunch?” Oisín stood up on his hind legs, scratching his back against the edge of the doorway. “I’m absolutely famished.”
Tristan’s head whipped around and at the same moment it was like a lightbulb went off in my head. I looked at my brother and he looked back at me, nodding.
“You know, I was thinking maybe we could go out for food tonight. One of those fancy French restaurants with the what is it called, Oisín? Those little fish you love to eat so well?”
You could practically hear Oisín drooling. “Anchovies?”
I smiled down at him. “Yeah, anchovies. What do you think?”
Oisín looked at me and then back over at Tristan, his yellow eyes narrowing. “I think you’re trying to con a con artist. What is it? What kind of dirty errand am I meant to be running?”
Well, at least he was on the same page. “We need someone Gentry won’t suspect to follow him around and see what he’s doing. You can do that for us, and no one will recognize you in the Dark Market since you’re a cat now. No offense.”
He rolled his eyes, and took a few small steps for before stretching out his back, the black fur standing on end. “And in return?”
“All-you-can-eat buffet, starring anchovies,” Fiona-Leigh said, smiling at him too. “Please, Osh?”
If it were possible for a cat to purse its lips, I’m pretty sure that’s what he was doing. Oisín finally heaved a great sigh. “If you insist. I don’t suppose this can wait until after lunch?”
I dropped Oisín to the soft grass, leaning to stretch my own back out. “Was it really necessary to have to carry you the entire way here?” I asked him, looking over my shoulder to make sure that Tristan and Fiona-Leigh were still behind us. The light filtering in through the trees just barely lit up the small, broken down cabin.
“Yes. It really was.” Oisín took delicate steps around the decrepit structure, letting out a soft hiss when something in the grass scurried off out of sight.
The magical, rippling energy of the Gateway shimmered and began to glow once we were close enough. “Remember, find him, carefully follow him but make sure he doesn’t see you. And report back as soon as you have any news,” I told him as he approached the Gateway.
“Yes, yes. And remember I told you that you might want to set up a reservation to the restaurant. Just in case it’s busy. We can’t have you backing out on your word,” he replied in a sing-songy tone.
“I’d never.”
“Hmmph.” And with that, Oisín let out a strangled meow as he crossed the gateway and disappeared within it.
The other two had just walked up, Fiona-Leigh laughing as Tristan recalled a time where Erie and I were in trouble with Aunt Bee around her age.
“And then your mom and Erie thought they were going to slip out the window without getting caught . . . but Aunt Bee was in the back garden harvesting some Valerian Root or something. . .” he chuckled, his shoulders shaking. “And just as she was walking past the manor to go back to the Apothecarium, both Erie and your mom fell on top of her trying to climb out of the second story, nearly knocking her out!”
They both howled with laughter, Fiona-Leigh gripping her sides until tears streamed down her face. “That’s so horrible but so funny at the same time!”
“Ha. Ha,” I mumbled, leaning against the cabin. Something cracked underneath me and I quickly pulled away, dusting the splintered wood off my shoulders.
I had to admit though, it was nice seeing the two of them getting along like this. Before I ever thought we’d get the chance, I always imagined Fiona-Leigh would love him and his personality. They were both outgoing and funny in their own ways—it made me feel even more guilty for keeping her from everything.
The sun moved further and further to the west over the treetops, until it was just barely shining. I check my watch, feeling anxious. Oisín had been gone for several hours… I hated to think about the implications there. Even the side of Gentry I’d seen made me wonder how he would react to finding someone following him like this.
Then again, what did I know? I didn’t even have the slightest clue about him being a spy until just today! My stomach turned at the thought of all the time I spent with him trying to locate Tristan. We’d only hit dead ends, but now I was so thankful for that. I thought about how he reacted when we were at the Dark Market, trying to see if there were clues I’d missed. But he’d done his mission or what the heck ever, correctly. I really had no idea.
The whirring noise coming from the Gateway meant someone was getting ready to pass back through to our side. I rushed over just in time to see Oisín strolling through, wearing some kind of necklace made out of… meat?
“What did you find out?” I asked, breathlessly. “Did you see him?”
Oisín yawned. “Yes, I found our friend, Mr. Whitemourn. He keeps a rather interesting company, I must say.”
Fiona-Leigh interest in her by my side, Fiona-Leigh picking Oisín up before nearly dropping him again. “Ew, what the heck are you wearing? What is that?” she asked, her nose scrunched up.
“If you must know… I picked it up at one of the vendors. I’m not entirely sure what kind of meat it is, but it’s not good enough. Anyway,” he said lazily, turning back to me, “it’s as Tristan says. Once I sought Gentry out, I was particularly surprised to see that not only was he in the Dark Market, he seemed to be holding court in Enoch’s old place with none other than the beautifully terrifying Delaney Drakar. At least, that’s who I assumed it was, with the all-black leather and the wild, crazy look to her. And the pair of them, well, they seemed awfully close. I’d tell you how close, but there’s a child present.”
“Ugh,” Tristan said under his breath.
My stomach felt like it was suddenly full of lead. “Then it’s true. Gentry has been playing us this entire time. He wasn’t trying to help me find you for the MARC’s sake. He was doing it for his girlfriend.”
I thought about how close he’d been in contact with me, how I’d even had my own daughter around him, how he’d been let into my family’s home easily for who knows how long. I thought of him gaining the trust of Uncle Gardner, Aunt Ginevra, and of course Aunt Bedelia. And I thought of how I actually saved him from spitting out the truth in Arcadia, a liability to my own self.
It was more than irritating that the thought of Gentry betraying us actually hurt me, but I had to admit that there was something inside of me whispering to never fully trust him. I wasn’t sure why that was, but now I knew.
He killed someone and pinned it on my brother, and then intended to use me to help find him so that he could kill my brother, too. The pendant at my throat burned with a heat I’d never known before, and I turned away from Tristan and Fiona-Leigh, trying to calm myself down.
In all my years, after dealing with the death of my mother, what happened with Adam and the fallout with my family, none of it made me as angry as Gentry Whitemourn did. And now, I had work to do.
34
The Brady Manor seemed so much more cavernous when it was empty. Your voice would carry and bounce off each antique and tapestry, echoing into the halls and wide-open spaces. I could imagine how an outsider who didn’t grow up in the place like I had, would find it intimidating.
With Aunt Ginevra out helping Aunt Bee at the Apothecarium and my uncle at his office, I used the pendant to make sure their part-time staff were absent, too. I closed my eyes, signaling out all life-forms in the manor house. The only energy I felt was from the three of us standing there.
“I don’t suppose you plan on telling me just where you got that from?” Tristan asked as I absentmindedly rubbed my thumb over the smooth surface of the pendant in my hand.
I dangled it carefully out in front of my chest by its thin chain. “Does it matter? You obviously know what it is.”
“I’ve heard of it, yeah. But that doesn’t explain why you have it.”
I pulled him away from
where Fiona-Leigh was testing out the old cherry wood piano. “Uncle G. He was letting me borrow it for the time being.”
Tristan raised a brow. “Really? Why?”
“Why do you think, Tris? Because he wanted me to use it to help find you, of course. He tried to hide it, but I know he’s been a wreck about the whole thing. Ginevra and Bedelia, especially.”
He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I’m surprised he cared that much, to be honest. I mean, Aunt Ginevra and Aunt Bee, sure. But he hasn’t been able to even look me in the eye in I don’t know how long . . .”
The room erupted in a loud, wavering note, startling both of us.
“Are you two going to keep standing there being all whispery and secretive some more, or are we going to figure out how to stop Gentry?” Fiona-Leigh said, pushing away from the piano.
It was hard not to smile at her determination, though I still wasn’t a fan of her being here with us right now. The only real reason I wanted her here is so I know she’s safe under my own eyes. The thought of some two-faced psycho like Gentry Whitemourn finding my daughter alone while we’re here made me want to stab things, so with us she stayed. But I was being smart about it—naturally I reinforced her earrings with a new protection spell thanks to the pendant.
“She’s got a point, Gwennie. What’s our game plan?” Tristan said.
I took a few steps and looked up at the portrait of the Brady Family Tree, chewing my bottom lip.
“Oh, it must be good. She always makes that face when she’s really serious about something,” Fiona-Leigh whispered to Tristan.
“Yeah? She used to walk around in circles whenever she was scheming something. It would drive my father crazy. He used to call her his ‘spinning top—always spiraling,” he whispered back.
I purposefully kept myself from walking around again like I was getting ready to, just to be spiteful. “We need to figure out if he’s got some made-up alibi first, before we do anything. I want to know what kind of lies we’re dealing with. So I’ll go to the headquarters first and see if I can find that information somewhere.”
Tristan nodded. “And then what?”
“And what am I supposed to do, by the way? You never told me. I hope you don’t think I’m just going to hole up in a room upstairs or something . . .” Fiona-Leigh added, looking at me skeptically.
I mean, that’s exactly what I was intending for her to do, but she didn’t need to know that. “You’re coming with me. As a, uh, lookout.”
Her dark blue eyes went wide. “Really? You’re not just saying that because you want me glued to your side, are you?”
I pasted the easiest smile on my face I could muster up. “Well, I mean yes, that’s part of it. But I need someone to watch out for me in case I need to do a little deeper of an investigation. And since Tristan will be setting up the wards around here as a backup, it’ll have to be you.”
“I will?” Tristan said. “Okay then—wards it is,” he quickly added, seeing the look on my face. He pulled out his wand, holding it up.
“All right, let’s get going. The sooner we find his alibi, the better,” I said, throwing my arm around Fiona-Leigh. “And when this is all done, I’m so taking the longest nap, ever.”
Tristan followed us to the front door, already beginning to cast the first warding spell from floor to ceiling.
“Consecrate this space—from top to base,” he began muttering, the tip of his wand glowing a misty green as tendrils of the spell sprouted out.
“We’ll be back before too long,” I called to him as he slowly moved away from us, and I yanked open the door, stopping dead in my tracks.
I was face to face with Gentry.
“Oh, I wasn’t expecting to see you two here,” he said, lowering the hand he was obviously getting ready to knock with. “Your uncle wanted me to drop this off to your aunt.” He held out a small package wrapped in brown paper and tied up in twine.
“I didn’t realize you were his errand-boy now,” I said, surprising even myself with the amount of acid that hung on my words. Fiona-Leigh shoved at my back from behind and I cleared my throat. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. Uh, my aunt’s not here but I can take the package.” I held out my hand.
He looked around me to Fiona-Leigh, giving her a small smile. But the smile faltered a bit as soon as Tristan came into view, oblivious. “Wait. Tristan Brady?”
My brother froze like a sylph in wand light. “Uh . . .”
I stepped out until I was in blocking the direct path between them, trying to think on my feet as best as I could. “Yeah, crazy, right? He just showed up! All this time we’ve been spending looking for him and then he just turns up out of the blue. Believe me, I’ve already gave him a good couple of punches for the effort,” I joked, the fake chuckle dying away in my throat.
Gentry looked over me and then back at me, clearly confused. “Does Gardner know about this?”
I shook my head. “No, like I said, he just showed up. I was actually going to um, go talk to my uncle myself to try and diffuse the situation a little. You know how he can be.”
“Right, very good point. Well,” he nodded, his eyes narrowing at Tristan behind me. “I can stay and help you set up more wards if that’s what you’re doing. I’m actually a pretty good—”
“No!” both Fiona-Leigh and I gasped. I quickly smiled to try and recover the fumble. “I mean, I can certainly do that. I know you’re busy and all.”
Gentry cocked an eyebrow at me. “I thought you were going to your uncle’s office? I can make it easier on both of you and help. You don’t want anyone to find out he’s here, do you?”
Fiona-Leigh’s hand sought mine out and I knew by the tone of Gentry’s voice that he was already suspicious.
The casual expression on his face twisted into something completely different. He was someone I no longer recognized. “Damn. I guess it’s not going to be easy, after all.”
35
I shoved Fiona-Leigh behind me but the split-second distraction cost me. Gentry sent Tristan flying backward with a simple flick of his wrist. My brother crashed into the foyer wall, pinned to it in an awkward position—with Gentry’s Siren magic hovering around and binding Tristan in a blue mist.
“Get . . . off . . . me . . .” he struggled, his face red from exertion as he tried to break free from the spell.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I shouted, still keeping my daughter firmly behind me.
“I’m just doing my job, Gwen. Or did you forget that your brother is wanted for murder?” Gentry said, tilting his head to the side.
Tristan groaned against the wall. Whatever spell Gentry was using on him was hurting him somehow. Fiona-Leigh tightened her grip on my hand.
Gentry was testing to see if I already knew the truth. Maybe if I played along, I could keep him busy while figuring out a way to undo the binding spell on my brother.
It was my last hope, and if he really did know what I had hidden on me, I could kiss my chances of getting Fiona-Leigh out of here, goodbye. The best plan was to distract him until I could figure out a way to undo his powerful —
I screeched as the pendant burned white-hot in my palm, my fingers splaying out in reflex, letting the pendant fly out of my hand and straight into Gentry’s outstretched hand. A cold chill skimmed the surface of my back and neck as I looked up and saw the triumphant gleam in his eyes.
“No!” I cried out, knowing there was no way I’d get to him in time before he easily used his Siren magic against me.
Gentry held up his hand. “Your traitor of a brother goes to work for the head of the Dark Market and you still trust him? I’m seriously having to question your so-called excellent judgment skills,” he said with derision, shaking his head. “But I know you respect justice to some degree—I mean you must, even as an ex-Shadow Hand. So, I’ll make you a deal. You let me take him into headquarters so I can do my job, and I’ll forgive the fact that you kept this pendant from me this whol
e time. What do you say?”
I rolled my eyes, unable to help myself. He was clearly enjoying being the bad guy. “Do you honestly expect me to trust you over my own blood? Clearly you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
And just like that, my limbs snapped together until I was standing up straight as a board, struggling to move almost any part of my body. I knew the spell well enough—it’s used as a regular take-down method for Shadow Hands in cases where it’s necessary. The more you struggle against the spell, the tighter bound you become. As much as I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being stuck in quicksand that was quickly solidifying around me. It had the potential to slowly suffocate me if Gentry so wished.
“You’re a jerk,” Fiona-Leigh whispered against my back.
“What was that?” Gentry asked, his voice low.
I willed her to stay still and to keep her mouth shut but without the pendant they were just thoughts racing through my head.
“I said you’re a jerk. My uncle is innocent until proven guilty. That’s how it works,” she replied. I could feel her peeking around me to look right at Gentry.
Gentry just shook his head, and heaved a sigh.
I swallowed hard, seeing the knowing look he was giving me.
“I know you’ve probably already put some kind of protection on her Gwen, so no need to worry about any potential harmful spells being silently hurled at her, right? However . . .”
Without saying a word, he motioned for her to come to him. It took a second because my girl was stronger-willed than most men, but she ultimately rushed to him, relentlessly struggling not to.
My stomach flip-flopped and I pushed even harder against the spell. I glared at him, willing the heat from my boiling rage to physically manifest itself and burn the hell out of him just like he’d done to me but ten times worse. A thousand times worse. I was desperate to get my hands around his neck for even thinking of laying a finger on my daughter. But without the pendant and no way to grab my wand, I was stuck.
