I found Ella standing off to the side. She reached for me, and our fingers grazed before sliding through each other’s. The symbols on my palm had stopped glowing now, which made me a little sad. Even though the connection with Ella was uncomfortable, I knew I’d miss it when it went away.
There in the séance room, the three of them filled me in on what had happened, retelling Ella’s story until a snippet of information made me interrupt.
“Hold on. Did you say the man had a mark on his arm? Was it a Vitalis mark?”
Both Ella and Vivian looked confused, but Derrick’s eyes widened. “Isn’t a Vitalis mark what you saw on Prince Marcus? They’re given to royals as a blessing, right?”
“Correct, which means we were right to think Diane had a son with the king. The child would have been Jane’s nephew.” I untangled myself from Derrick’s arms, excitement humming through my body. “I know how to find his name.”
“How?” Vivian asked.
“The boxes of books we brought over from my shop. My mother kept a ledger of the spells she performed. She cast the Vitalis mark on Prince Marcus when he was a baby and would have cast the second mark if there’d been another child. Even out of wedlock, a son would be a candidate for the mark. He’d be listed in the book.” I ran to the storage closet.
It took some time to find it, but I retrieved my mother’s ledger. The book was heavy, hardbound, and nearly a hundred pages—thankfully, categorized by date. I flipped through and found the year Prince Marcus was born. His entry was listed with his full name, type of spell, and the date. I kept going, slower, in my search for the next few years. And there it was, an entry for a Vitalis mark dated nearly five years after Prince Marcus was born.
I read the name aloud. “William A. Porter.”
We’d found our killer.
Chapter 30
Vivian packed her pedestal candle and sage bundle into a bag and slung it over her shoulder.
“Are you sure you’ll be fine by yourself? You’re welcome to come explore the haunted mansion. I’ll let you wave the sage around.”
I scrunched my nose, still uncomfortable after my spiritual invasion the night before. “As fun as that sounds, I’m good. Derrick sent one of his officers over to keep watch, and I want to wait for him to finish his meeting with the king. If he confirms what we learned, we can start hunting William Porter.”
“Suit yourself.” She twisted her hair into a bun and tied it back. Loose strands tumbled into her face, and she blew them out of her eyes. Hands on her hips, Vivian studied the items spread out over her séance table. “Tessa, you’re going back to the magic shop soon, right? Don’t get me wrong, I love having a house guest, and the officers Derrick sends over are kind of cute, but you’re turning my séance room into a potion mill.”
I sprinkled a dash of sea salt into a clay pot filled with an oozing substance and added a crow’s feather. A puff of noxious smoke bloomed, sending Vivian back on her heels.
“Yup, I’m going to need you to vacate the premises immediately.”
Covering my nose with my sleeve, I waved away the thick cloud spewing from the pot. “Drat, I think I added too much iron dust. Don’t worry, Viv, I’ll clean up when I’m finished.”
“What are you making?” she asked, pinching her nose.
“Dinner,” I deadpanned.
“Very funny.”
“Actually, I had an idea for a potion that can prevent someone from telling a lie. Imagine how useful that would be in interrogations. I’m going to surprise Derrick with it if I ever figure out how to make it work.”
“Honestly, I think you’re already there. I’d reveal my darkest secrets from that smell alone.”
“Thanks, Viv. It’s a work in progress. Have fun on your haunting.”
She snarled and headed for the door. “Open a window before that smell ingrains itself in the walls and the value of my house goes down.”
“Will do!” I wiggled my fingers and measured a fresh scoop of iron dust.
The front door clicked shut, and I leaned back in my chair to survey the mess. I’d needed something to distract me while Derrick presented our findings to the king. He’d left early in the morning and had already been gone half the day. I still couldn’t believe we had a name. Seeing the look of relief on Ella’s face had been humbling. She’d placed her trust in me, and I hadn’t failed her.
I couldn’t begin to imagine what Derrick was going through. After all these years, to finally learn the name of his sister’s killer, it must be eating him alive. He’d decided to wait to notify his family, wanting to be sure before he got their hopes up. I didn’t blame him. It would be a crushing blow to come this far and not apprehend the culprit.
The hanging beads swayed together, and I pushed aside the clay pot, doing my best to frantically clear the air. “Did you forget something, Viv?”
“It’s just me, Tessa.” Abrams stood in the entryway, his hands twisting the brim of his cap. “Shift change. I sent the other officer home.”
“Really? Vivian will be disappointed when she gets back. I think she liked him the best.”
“How long will she be gone?”
I pursed my lips and started cleaning off the séance table. “Couple hours. Unless the ghost is chatty, then who knows?”
Abrams nodded absently, his gaze wandering the room. “I heard you discovered the name of the killer. I’m impressed.”
My hand hovered over the basket of crows’ feathers. “I didn’t realize Derrick told you.”
Abrams chuckled. “Why wouldn’t he tell me? I used to help all the time with his cases before you came along. I always knew what was happening at the agency. Every little thing.”
Unease made my palms itch. “That’s right. He always speaks very highly of you.”
“Funny, how he only talks about you now. No hard feelings.” Abrams lifted his shoulders in an easy shrug. The move contrasted with his tone. His boots were silent as he approached, crowding me against the table. “How about we have that glass of wine you promised me a while back? It will be our secret. We’re so good at keeping secrets. Another won’t hurt, will it? Can I share one more with you?”
“Actually, I think Vivian finished the last bottle. You know how she—”
“You mean, this one?” Abrams held up the full bottle he found sitting next to a bowl of incense.
The pop of the cork echoed in my ears as he pulled it open and was followed by an odd silence while I waited for him to face me again. He was taking a long time, each second making my dread sharpen.
“Let me get some glasses.” I edged around the table.
“No need.” Abrams blocked my path to the kitchen, tipping the mouth of the bottle in my direction. “Cheers, Miss Daniels, you did it. You solved the murder. Well done. There’s just one problem.”
I stepped back and bumped the table, rattling the potion ingredients.
“You’re not going to drink? I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He flashed his teeth. “You know, Helen wouldn’t drink either. Can you imagine the look on her face when I unlocked her cell door? She was all alone…no other officers around…kind of like you, right now.”
I closed my fingers around a feather. Unbelievable! Why did all of my potions call for feathers? An amethyst spike would be so helpful right now.
“You killed Helen? What about Liam Barber?”
“They needed to be killed. Again, kind of like you, Miss Daniels.” He swung the bottle.
My arms came up, taking the force, and pain exploded in my forearm, radiating all the way to my shoulder. Elderberry wine poured from the mouth as he swung the bottle again. This time, I ducked, sliding in the blood-red liquid.
Abrams crushed my ribcage where he snaked an arm around my middle. A rag was clamped over my mouth, and I sucked in a breath of sweet-scented air.
Poison.
Trying to get leverage against the table, I used my feet to push us back. Abrams staggered and adj
usted his hold. I drew in another sugary breath, dizziness flooding my vision. My lungs ached from trying to keep the poison from filling them further.
The room dimmed. I breathed again. This time, it was soothing, like drifting away on clouds. Reaching up, I grabbed his arm, the action weak. My fingers slid down his bicep, grazing a raised mark.
“That’s right,” he rasped in my ear, “William Abrams Porter. Do you find it ironic that your mother blessed the man who’s going to kill you?” He laughed. “I do.”
Darkness rushed in, and my body went limp as I lost consciousness.
***
The light was fading. I struggled to open my eyes and peered through the domed glass ceiling. Thick vines climbed the walls, reaching toward the sky, their tangled stalks obstructing the last rays of evening sun and casting the circular chamber in shadow. Beneath me, dried leaves and dead plants created a cushion on the stone floor. He’d taken me to the palace greenhouse. The one we’d searched days earlier with Theo. Remote. Isolated. The perfect location for a murder.
I remained still, getting my bearings, but my attention was diverted at the scrape of a chain threading through an iron handle. Abrams was on the other side of the glass, testing the chain on a door. Satisfied, he circled around the edge of the building.
Only one other way out, behind me.
I scrambled to my feet, not surprised to find my hands tied behind my back. The move made me bend at the waist as a wave of dizziness threatened to send me back to the ground. I breathed steadily through my nose and twisted my wrists, trying to regain feeling in my fingers.
“Good! The witch is awake.” Abrams stepped through the door that led deeper into the greenhouse. “Don’t you like it here? My mother did—at least, that’s what they tell me. It was kept a lot nicer back then. Sorry I couldn’t find a place that reeked less of abandonment, but that is the theme we’re going for.” He locked the door behind him and held up a key. “There, now we’re settled in.”
“Why did you bring me here? You could have killed me back at Vivian’s.”
He angled his head, sending a curly lock of hair into his eye. “Is that how you wanted to die? On the floor of a shop?” He shrugged. “I thought lying inside a glass house, on a bed of vines, with your hair spread out around you and a rose clutched between your fingers was more romantic.”
“You’re sick.”
“And you’re exhausting. We wouldn’t be here right now if you’d removed yourself from the case after I left that gift on your back step.”
Finally regaining life in my fingers, I curled them into fists and channeled my magic. Heat grew in my palms, but it wasn’t hot enough to burn the rope. I needed more time. Had to keep him talking.
“Did you really think a glass slipper and a note was enough to scare me away?”
“Maybe not you, but I thought you might get kicked off the case. Detective Chambers has a protective streak when it comes to you. I figured if I threatened the witch, he’d send you packing. He wouldn’t want to risk losing someone else he cared about.”
I backed up, shoes crunching over brittle leaves, and refocused my magic. “Why the roses, Abrams? Don’t you think you owe me that much?”
“Curious, witch?” He stalked across the chamber and tore at the vines, ripping them away from the wall to uncover a thorny bush with a single bloom. The crimson Aster Mauve rose was a splash of color among the thorns and dried foliage. Abrams cut the stem with a pocket knife and breathed in the fragrant scent, then set it aside on a stone bench. “It’s the last one. How lucky for you. My mother cherished those roses. They represented beauty, vitality, and yet, their thorns drew blood. When you cut a rose it dies, turns brittle. The beauty fades and it loses its power. I thought it seemed fitting to leave them behind. I wanted to show everyone how easy it was to snuff out an existance. A simple snip.”
My stomach rolled at his callous explanation. “What happened to Diane? Why the other girls?” The heat burned up my wrists, making my teeth clench, but it was working. Only a little longer.
“My mother died when I was a child, and since I had no viable claim to the throne, my aunt tossed me away. But, I knew I deserved better. I was a king’s son, no matter the order of my birth. I grew up obsessed with the brother who had it all. I got hired as a stable hand at the king’s hunting lodge to be closer to him, and that’s where I met Sophie. Sweet, beautiful Sophie.”
My insides clenched at the way he said her name. His eyes unfocused, and a half-smile curved his mouth.
“For a little while, everything was different. I loved her. I wanted her.”
“But she didn’t want you?”
Abrams snarled and prowled closer. I stumbled backward, tripping on a vine.
“She wanted him. They all do! My brother with the royal title. Luck personified. Sophie had been mine until he showed the barest of interest in her. All of it, our letters, the secret encounters, they meant nothing after a single glance from his direction.”
A realization formed, and my mind snagged on a memory. “You still have those letters, don’t you? They’re the ones you mentioned at the memorial dinner. You joked about hiding them.”
He clapped, slow, the sound echoing in the chamber. “Very good, Miss Daniels. You would have made a good detective.”
“So, you killed her because she spurned you?”
“I killed her because she laughed at me when I told her I was as good as him.”
“She was sixteen!”
His boots pounded across the stone. Another step, then two. Fear constricted my chest. Abrams kept coming even when I tripped, landing hard on my backside. His rangy form towered over me.
“Get up.”
“What about Jane? She didn’t accept you either, and she was family. Let me guess, you confronted her years later, and she laughed in your face?” Twisting my wrists, I felt the first give in the rope.
“Get up!” he roared, grasping my arm and dragging me upright. His fingers bit into my skin, and he shoved me against the wall, my head cracking against the glass.
Lights danced in my vision.
“My aunt was a fool. I was going to take what should have been mine. With my brother gone, I have a claim to the throne. I joined the agency to gain access to the castle, and I waited for the perfect opportunity. It was the perfect cover. Detective Chambers was searching for his sister’s killer, and I’d be the first to know if he came close.”
“But Ella ruined everything. She saw you with Helen, and then you spotted her at the ball. She was going to warn the prince.”
“Too bad for her, he switched masks.” Abrams sneered. “Some things just work out in your favor, don’t they? I followed her into the courtyard. The look on her face when I removed my mask was really something.” He chuckled and the soft sound sent a shiver of fear up my spine. “I liked you, Miss Daniels, I really did. You were a bit of an underdog, and who doesn’t want to root for that? But it’s over now. I’ll lay low for a while, go dormant until memories fade and I can walk freely among the kingdom again. You won’t be around for that, but I can guarantee your murder will make the front page of the Gazette. You’ll be as famous as your mother.”
His hands came up. I drew in a breath before they closed around my throat. My whole body bucked from the pressure, and I lost focus for a second as terror overwhelmed me. The pain in my lungs grew unbearable.
Abrams’ fingers dug deeper. I closed my eyes, and Derrick’s face flashed behind my eyelids. I couldn’t give up. Losing Sophie’s killer this way would break him, and damn it, if I wasn’t tired of being on the front page of the blasted Gazette!
Magic sizzled across my skin, slicing through the rope. It gave away at the same time as my knees. With the last of my energy, I pushed my hands forward and shot a current into his chest.
Abrams flew back, and I sank to the ground, gulping in ragged gasps of air.
He was up before I’d caught my breath. I struggled to my feet too, channeling another bea
m of magic. He lurched, and I flung my fists out, launching a stream of sparks that went wide.
Throwing back his head, Abrams laughed. “You missed. Wow, you’re a terrible witch.”
The sparks engulfed a thick wall of withered vines behind him, catching fire. It spread quickly, racing up the walls, jumping from stalk to stalk. Not ideal! I tilted my head back as the flames burned all the way to the ceiling, smoke becoming thick and dark.
Abrams spun, his mouth widening at the inferno. “Foolish, witch! You’ll kill us both!”
Yeah, I could see that! This was why I shouldn’t use magic indoors. I coughed, covering my mouth, and dropped low to the ground. Above my head, there was a popping sound as the glass began to crack from the heat.
Abrams ran for the door. I couldn’t let him reach it first—he’d trap me inside.
Fighting against the smoke stinging my eyes, I focused my magic and splayed my fingers. A flaming vine snaked across the ground, wrapping around his leg. It jerked him down, and I heard the sickening fracture as his head smacked the stone tile. He didn’t move. Blood pooled beneath his head.
I skirted around him and lunged for the door. My hands shoved against the handle, but it didn’t budge. I slammed it again, panic disorienting me. As a figure appeared on the other side of the glass, my heart stalled.
Derrick’s stricken face sharpened into focus. “Tessa!” He wrenched the handle.
“It’s locked! Abrams has the key.”
I scrambled to his fallen form, Derrick’s voice ringing in my ears. My hands shook as I searched Abrams’ pockets. Empty! The pool of blood had spread, soaking his shirt. His eyes were wide-open and lifeless.
He was dead.
The key was gone.
Raking my hands through the leaves, I inhaled smoke that burned my throat. Glass shattered, raining down on me. It was too late. I’d never locate it among all the debris. Thick, black smoke clogged the air, making it impossible to see, and even harder to breathe.
Dazed, I made it back to the door. “I can’t find it.” I sounded so calm I scared myself.
Heat flared at my back, and I covered my mouth to cough into my sleeve before sinking to the floor. When I pressed my forehead against the glass, it was hot.
Spellbound After Midnight (Ever Dark, Ever Deadly Book 1) Page 27
