Helen winced. “I apologize for my mother, she’s overwrought. One of the servants heard a rumor while in the market yesterday. There are so many rumors. If one believes them all, Ella’s killer was part-beast. I, for one, trust in your investigation, Detective.”
“Thank you, Miss Lockwood. If you’ll excuse us, there are others who wish to pay their respects.” Derrick moved woodenly out of the line.
I tugged at his sleeve, stumbling back a step when he turned. Anguish lined his features, twisting my heart.
“Olivia doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
It was hard to breathe around the guilt I saw in his eyes. The same kind of guilt had wrapped around me for years, a failure so deep it effected the way I viewed the world. It had become a part of me, but at that moment, I wanted to take his too. Add it to my own, no matter the weight, because I couldn’t stand to see his pain.
Throat tight, I leaned in and whispered, “Ella’s murder wasn’t your fault. You can’t believe that.”
“Stay here, Tessa. I should go speak with the king.”
“No—wait. I’ll go with you.”
He shook his head firmly and backed away, the crowd swallowing him up. I resisted the urge to follow, knowing he needed a moment alone. Guests looked my way, and I smiled, feeling my lips strain at the corners. Drifting toward the edge of the room, I watched as Olivia rejoined the receiving line. My chest ached. I pressed the heel of my hand against my collarbone to relieve the pressure. I was right about one thing: Derrick might seem impenetrable on the outside, but inside, he was wracked with guilt over the murders.
It went deeper than that though, I was sure of it. There was fear in his eyes. What if he couldn’t stop it from happening again? What if the cases went unsolved? It was humbling to think similar what-if questions plagued my mind. What if I lost everything? What if I ruined my mother’s legacy? Derrick and I weren’t that different.
I scanned the crowd, standing on my toes to locate him.
“Looking for someone?”
Whirling around, my lips parted in shock to find Argus grinning down at me like a predatory hawk spotting a mouse. His hair had been slicked back, away from his face, and his jaw was clean-shaven. He blended in among the rich guests, dressed in a formal black suit, white shirt, and starched collar. Only I knew he was a wolf in the henhouse.
“What are you doing here?” I dragged him into an alcove. “Are you following me? You said I have until the end of the month.”
Argus tapped his knuckle under my chin, making me snarl. “Witch, not everything is about you. You forget, I’m a man of means.”
“Ill-gotten means.”
He shrugged. “Gold is gold where these people are concerned. How I came by it makes no difference. Besides, some of my fortune is legit. I’m sure I found a copper in the street once.” He winked.
“Why are you here? You can’t be seen with me.”
Argus gave me a mock pout. “Why? You don’t want your illustrious detective to know you associate with a man of my reputation? Will he be disappointed?”
“Yes,” I grated.
“Well, we wouldn’t want that. I’m escorting my half-sister, Adella Lennox. Even a businessman such as myself has a family, and my family happens to be old money. I don’t need to tell you how money opens doors, do I?” He smirked. “Hmm…maybe I do, considering you don’t have any.”
“And whose fault is that?” My fingers tightened into fists.
He laughed. “Not mine.”
“What do you want?”
Argus lounged against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. “You amuse me, witch. It hasn’t escaped my notice that you’ve been helping the detective.”
“Not much would escape your notice since you have your men following me.”
He tilted his head and cocked a brow. “You noticed?”
“They’re not subtle.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t pay them to be. Let me guess, since you’re not helping the detective out of the goodness of your witchy little heart, you must be trying to collect the reward money?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“It is my concern when you and I are looking for the same person. Ironhazel.”
I froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t be coy, it doesn’t suit you. You’re searching for Ironhazel, and I want you to share any information you discover with me.”
“Did you trip down the palace steps and hit your head? Why would I do that?”
“Simple. If you don’t, I’ll let Detective Chambers know about our involvement. What will he do when he learns you’re indebted to a gangster and only after the reward money? How about when I tell him you’ve been working for me this whole time?”
“That’s a lie!”
“Only if you make it one.”
My palms grew damp, panic making my head spin. “So, this is blackmail? Why are you searching for Ironhazel?”
“That’s a personal matter.”
“Tell me why.”
Argus shook his head. “Decide. Your detective is searching for you as we speak. Want me to wave him over?” He lifted his hand, but I jerked it down. Derrick couldn’t find out the truth, not here. I needed more time.
“Fine. Keep your mouth shut and let me work. I’ll be in touch.” I turned to leave, but Argus pulled me back.
“Say hi to my men when you see them. They’ll be watching.” His mouth curved into a devious smile, then he brushed past, leaving me standing in the alcove.
“There you are.” Derrick found me while I was trying to decide whether I could successfully hide behind a potted fern for the rest of the evening. I gave him a wan smile and peeked over his shoulder to see Argus raise a wineglass in mock salute.
The cad. His existence made my life difficult, and now, he wanted inside information. I steeled my expression, making sure Derrick didn’t notice my wandering gaze. As much as being blackmailed by the devil himself grated, there was a silver lining. Argus knew something about Ironhazel, and personal or not, I needed to find out what that was. At the very least, it was an angle; a wispy thread that might lead to the mysterious figure, and possibly, the murderer. I just couldn’t tell Derrick about it without revealing the truth. Which meant more secrets. My omissions were starting to eat away at my composure. Every aspect of my life felt like a lie.
“Have you seen the prince?” I asked, rubbing my fingers over a fern’s leafy stem.
“Not yet.” His hand closed over mine, and I tensed, still grasping the fern. “Damaging the royal plants is a finable offense.”
“You’re making that up,” I argued, releasing the fern and trying to tug my hand away.
“Maybe, but I won’t report you if you tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Nothing is bother—”
“Tessa.” He cocked his head, fixing me with a determined stare. “You fiddle with things when something is on your mind.”
“I do not.” I tucked my hand behind my back to keep from fiddling with the thin piece of ribbon at my waist. The fact he’d noticed such a small detail made me both delighted and uncomfortable. No one else studied me so closely.
“You do. It’s your tell.”
I moved away from the fern and feigned ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean, Detective, but it’s cute that you watch me so intently.”
“Someone has to,” he muttered, following as I glided back into the thick of the crowd.
We only made it a few feet before an older gentleman pushed his way through the crush of people.
“Detective Chambers, good to see you. May I have a word?” The man peered at us from behind wire-rimmed spectacles, his bulbous nose red against the white whiskers that covered his chin and upper lip.
Derrick grimaced. “John, I don’t suppose you can wait to set up a meeting through my office?”
“You never accept my requests.” The man held out his hand, focusing his attention on m
e. “And you must be Tessa Daniels, the witch. I’m John Lincoln, owner of the Ever Gazette. Surely, you can persuade Detective Chambers to give me a moment of his time? In fact, I’d love to speak with you both.”
Reluctantly, I accepted his handshake, only for him to lift my fingers to his lips. John’s mustache bristled against my knuckles, and I slipped into character, turning on the charm. It was time to act like a besotted fool for the papers.
“Derrick and I would be happy to answer your questions.”
John smirked, his squinty eyes narrowing into slits. “You would? Detective Chambers never answers my questions.”
“Because case details aren’t public, John.” Derrick glowered at the way the man lingered over my hand.
“No, I suppose they’re not. Gotta ask anyway. Do you have any leads on the Lockwood investigation?”
Derrick smiled blandly, refusing to answer. John didn’t seem fazed. He switched gears and fired off another question.
“Rumors are, there might be other murders linked to the case. Is that true?”
I fiddled with the ribbon at my waist, unable to stop the jolt of worry at the probing question. Derrick was right: I had a tell. He noticed and snagged my hand, interlocking his fingers through mine.
“Is the Gazette in the habit of printing rumors? Because I heard the killer might be a werewolf. Should we look into moon phases and start carrying silver spikes?”
John threw his head back and laughed. “That would help sell papers. Readers love the supernatural, and it turns out, they especially love our local witch.” An oily grin spread across his lips, revealing a set of crooked teeth. “Readers want to know how you put the kingdom’s most eligible bachelor, second only to the prince, under your spell, and whether they can buy a bottle of it at your shop?”
My insides withered at the jeering note in his voice. This was what I’d agreed to, but it hurt to be cast as the seducer in our situation—especially one that seemed like a bottom feeder, grasping for someone above her station. Derrick had gone rigid beside me, and I sensed he was about to blow the whole act out of the water, regardless of the prince’s desire to keep up the charade. Probably out of some misplaced protectiveness.
I slipped into the crook of his arm and flashed John a sly smile. “It’s called Charmed Lightning, available in cherry flavor.” I winked. “Until supplies last.”
Another laugh, this one booming over the surrounding conversation. “I like you, Miss Daniels. Finally, a woman who can keep Detective Chambers on his toes. He’s always so grim. If you ever get tired of the lad, I’ll happily drink your potion.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever need to advertise in your paper.”
“You do that.” He chuckled and wiped the corners of his eyes. “You’re a lucky man, Detective. She has beauty and wit.”
“She does. I know how lucky I am.” Derrick pulled me tighter against his side. His voice was warm and laced with meaning, a husky sound that made my face flush and a tiny flutter start in my stomach. He was good at this game. Even I was convinced.
John changed topics, holding Derrick hostage with a question about agency policy. I tuned out of the conversation, suddenly longing for a breath of fresh air, anything to douse the rioting emotions inside my chest. Glancing around the room, I caught sight of Argus again. He was speaking in a circle of guests, an elegantly dressed young woman clutching his arm. The resemblance was striking. He really hadn’t been lying about escorting his half-sister.
Argus must have felt my gaze because he returned it, lifting a brow. I definitely needed air.
“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’m parched.” I hurried away before Derrick could protest, using the crowd for cover. Relief washed over me as I neared the edge of the room. From this angle, I didn’t have to look at Argus or feign interest in agency politics with Derrick’s arm snug around my waist. The first problem was detestable. The other was becoming almost essential.
Massaging the bridge of my nose, I scoured the ballroom for the missing prince. Where was he? There wouldn’t be many opportunities to watch his behavior—in fact, this would probably be the only chance I’d get. I couldn’t let Liam’s tip go to waste since he’d risked his job and possibly his life to bring it to me. With one last glance to check nobody was watching, I inched behind a marble statue to observe the room unseen.
Helen and her mother held court near the winding staircase. Olivia Lockwood appeared drawn and exhausted, but Helen seemed to thrive under the attention. I watched her sip from her wineglass, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief every so often while regaling her audience with some tale. It looked forced, as if maybe Derrick and I weren’t the only ones putting on an act.
“What a tragedy. I can hardly believe it,” a woman stage-whispered on the other side of the statue. Her companion made a noise of agreement, and I peered around a marble elbow at the two ladies, hoping to catch snippets of their gossip. Maybe something would turn out to be useful.
“Honestly, he’s too good for her. A witch of all things, not even a talented one. I heard she once set a barn on fire with one of her spells. Thankfully, her mother arrived to cast a rain spell, or the whole structure would have been lost. She, rest her soul, was the last of the good ones.”
“Have you seen Mrs. Anderson’s hair? The underside is still green from using one of the witch’s potions. Poor thing can’t leave her house for another week.”
“I don’t know what Detective Chambers sees in her. It’s only a matter of time before he comes to his senses and finds someone more suitable.”
I shrank behind the statue, horrified the gossip wasn’t about the murder but about me. Shame stabbed my chest while the two ladies continued their banter, listing my faults and failed spells, before wandering away from the statue. Tears stung my eyes. I pressed my thumbs at the source.
“You look like you need this.” Abrams approached with a glass of wine.
I accepted the offering but didn’t drink it. “Let me guess, Derrick asked you to keep an eye on me tonight?”
“Guilty. He gave me the signal when you slipped away and left him at the mercy of John Lincoln.” He tsk’d and sipped from his glass, tossing it back until nothing remained. “Not that I blame you. I’m actually grateful. This beats overnight rounds by the docks. I’m supposed to keep a low profile and make sure no one gives you a hard time. Don’t tell him I approached you and gave up my cover.”
“Seems like you and I are constantly keeping secrets from Derrick. I’ll keep yours if you don’t tell him about those two ladies. I’m already mortified as it is.”
“Deal. Drink your wine, it will make you feel better.”
I swirled the red liquid in the glass and scoffed. “I don’t know if I’ll drink anything ever again, not after what happened to Ella.” Abrams’ eyes widened, and he stared into his empty glass. I choked on a laugh. “I’m sure your wine was fine. You don’t feel dizzy, do you?”
“I don’t think so. But if I die, you have to promise to destroy the strongbox under my bed.” He grinned, a mischievous light in his eyes.
“More secrets, Abrams? I might have to tell on you after all.”
“Not secrets, love letters.” He shuddered. “The sappy kind. No man should be caught dead with them. Ruins their mysterious image.”
“I see. I’ll make sure to take care of them for you.”
He tipped his empty glass into mine. “What about you? What’s the one thing you want to keep hidden? Your greatest fear?” The playfulness had left his voice, and I bit the side of my lip, not liking the edge in his tone. Even though we had developed a camaraderie, he was one of Derrick’s officers. Reveal too much, and all my hard-won secrets could wind up in Derrick’s hands before I was ready to explain them myself.
I handed Abrams my full wineglass. “If I think of one, I’ll let you know. I’m going to get some fresh air on the terrace. I won’t go far.”
Abrams nodded, and I slipped past him, out the side door. Wh
en I looked over my shoulder, he was still watching me. I felt the track of his gaze until I moved out of view. A shiver worked its way up my spine at the thought he might have seen me talking with Argus. I’d have to be careful. It was easy to forget that I was technically an outsider, and Abrams’ loyalty belonged to Derrick.
The terrace was lit with rows of lanterns, and guests mingled near the railing. I made my way to the gravel path leading deeper into the courtyard. The night air was cool but felt wonderful after the stuffiness in the crowded ballroom. My shoes crunched over stones, becoming the only sound as the hushed voices on the terrace faded.
I recognized the path as it wound its way along the side of the castle. The enormous clock tower loomed overhead. In the distance was the fountain where they’d found Ella, the giant stone basin illuminated by flickering lanterns. A man sat on the edge, staring in.
Prince Marcus rolled up the sleeve of his white shirt and plunged his hand into the black water. Strands of hair fell across his eyes, and his lips moved as he muttered to himself. I crept closer, trying to be as soundless as possible.
“Where is the blasted thing?” He swirled his arm through the basin.
At the edge of the fountain, a twig snapped under my shoe, startling us both. Prince Marcus whipped around. His eyes appeared glassy, almost dazed. He didn’t recognize me. In one smooth motion, he clamped a hand around my arm and knocked me off-balance. Gravel slid under my heels, and the momentum sent me over the ledge. I cried out, sucking in a final breath before hitting the water. The frigid temperature shocked my body, and I sank below the surface.
Chapter 18
Panic and pressure built simultaneously as the water closed over my head. My gown tangled around my legs, a restrictive weight, dragging me to the bottom even as I tried to stay calm. The water was only a few feet deep. I just needed to get my bearings.
The prince fisted the fabric of my gown to pull me back up, but when his hold shifted and his fingers dug deep into my forearms, my relief gave way to the realization he was holding me under. I struggled to shake him off, using the bottom for leverage. Lungs on fire, I choked in a mouthful of water—then, suddenly, my head breached the surface, and my next breath was all air.
Spellbound After Midnight (Ever Dark, Ever Deadly Book 1) Page 15
