To Kill a King (Hollowcliff Detectives Book 2)

by C. S. Wilde

  “Bast—”

  “No!” He slammed his palm over the marbled railing, his canines growing sharper. “This is not… it can’t be. Agh!” Stepping back, he slammed both hands on his head, bending over. “Fuchst ach!” he bellowed in pain.

  “Bast!” Mera didn’t know what to say or do. Despair squeezed her lungs, stealing her breath. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Leon! Aaagh!”

  Bast screamed until suddenly he snapped his spine straight, his chest heaving up and down. His wide eyes turned into pitch-black orbs. “Leon is in pain.”

  Chapter 18

  They burst into the throne room to find Leon and Benedict at the far end, near the dais with the ivory throne. The two brothers stood over something lying on the floor.

  Bast sighed in relief, his attention locked on his older brother.

  “Leon’s okay,” he muttered to himself as the pitch-black in his eyes vanished. “He’s alright.”

  Their harsh steps tapped against the vast marbled hall as they hurried toward the dais. Yet, as she and Bast approached, Mera realized that Leon and Benedict were standing near a body.

  A pool of wine-colored blood that neared black spread underneath the victim, drenching Leon and Benedict’s shoes; so much blood in fact, that it became clear this was a murder scene.

  The dead fae wore a long white robe, with a golden string wrapped around his waist. The same robe from Danu’s followers.

  “No!” Bast boosted toward the body, his voice cracking into a thousand pieces. “Theo!”

  Mera tried to follow him, but he was remarkably fast.

  Leon promptly turned and caught her partner midway, swinging Bast away before he could reach the monk’s body.

  “Let me go!” Bast yelled, pushing against his older brother, and stretching his hand toward the victim.

  Leon was stronger, and he wouldn’t let him pass, even if tears streamed down his cheeks, and his bulky arms trembled.

  It was odd seeing such a big and strong fae so vulnerable, yet Leon wasn’t just a brother to them.

  He was their surrogate father.

  “He’s gone,” Leon croaked. “He’s with Danu now.”

  A world of sorrow crashed into Mera’s chest as she witnessed the scene ahead, but she had to focus. She had to bring Theodore’s murderer to justice, if only to make them pay for causing Bast so much pain.

  Benedict stood near his twin’s body, watching the dead monk in complete shock. As if half of him was there and the other half wasn’t, a behavior awfully similar to his mother’s.

  Thankfully, Seraphina Dhay wasn’t there.

  Mera’s heart tightened as she gave out the first order. “Leon, Benedict. Step away from the body.”

  At that moment, they were her main suspects.

  Leon quickly obliged, dragging a thrashing and screaming Bast with him, but Benedict simply stood there, watching his brother. Getting a reaction from him might be an impossible task.

  “We didn’t do it,” Leon assured, sniffing back his tears as he held down Bast.

  “That might be true, but I still need to investigate.” Stepping closer, Mera repeated her order to Benedict, but he didn’t react.

  Well, she had to go ahead and hope he wouldn’t be a threat. The fact Benedict resembled more a coma patient than a potential murderer certainly helped put her at ease.

  The victim’s dark-gray hair and white robe were sticky with his own blood. Theodore stared lifelessly at the ceiling, his mouth slightly open as if he’d passed between one breath and another.

  “Halle!” Finally pushing himself away from Leon, Bast spun in a circle. His hands shook, and his lips trembled as if he was holding down the ugliest of cries. “Halle fuchst ach!”

  He rushed toward Mera, but she raised her hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Stay with your brother.”

  Bast blinked, as if coming to himself. Taking a series of steadying breaths, he lowered his shoulders. “I’m fine. I can do my job.”

  “Sit this one out, partner. That’s an order.”

  “Bast, please…” Leon cried. “I tried to protect my family. I… I failed.” His voice broke as he burst into ugly sobs. “Forgive me.”

  Bast gave Mera one last lingering glance before going to his big brother. She couldn’t tell if he was pissed or grateful. Probably pissed.

  Well, tough luck.

  Her mouth opened to ask Benedict to move away one last time, but she decided it was pointless. So Mera kneeled close to the body with him standing beside her.

  He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply stared.

  Theodore’s massive bleeding had been caused by a sharp cut across his carotid artery. Mera had seen enough death to know that Theodore’s had been merciful. People who survived these types of wounds, as few as there were, reported it being akin to falling asleep.

  Whoever had done this cared for the monk. Which didn’t look good for Leon and Benedict, her prime suspects.

  At all.

  Mera focused on what she knew. Rheina Warlow had seen Theodore taking the chocolate box to the throne room. And now he was dead.

  Scenario number one: He was both a monk and a murderer, which constructed one of the most mind-boggling profiles in her career, but Mera couldn’t discard it. If Theo was indeed the Night King’s killer, then someone must’ve found out and decided to take justice in their own hands.

  Scenario number two, the more likely one: Theodore had carried the box without being aware of its contents. When Bast and Mera proved the chocolates had been poisoned, the monk realized that whoever gave him the box was the murderer. And instead of informing Bast and Mera, he decided to talk to the killer first.

  A mistake that cost him his life.

  Rubbing her forehead, she sighed. Mera hated to admit it, but Bast and Corvus were right.

  Someone in the royal family might be responsible for this killing spree.

  To cross out scenario number one, she would have to ask Rheina if she’d told anyone else about seeing Theodore. Not probable, since the old fae had tried to cover for him before, but Mera had to be sure.

  Removing a handkerchief from her pocket, she covered her palm before closing Theodore’s eyes. After that, she touched his forehead.

  Still warm.

  “Kitten,” Bast called out.

  His gaze held a world of grief and anger, but he didn’t shed a tear for his brother. Neither did Benedict, but to his own credit, he couldn’t do much in his state. Her partner pointed to the monk’s left hand. “He is… was clutching something.”

  Mera opened Theodore’s palm. His fingers revealed a silver necklace with a pendant shaped like a half-moon. Gingerly grabbing it with the handkerchief, Mera raised it higher.

  Poseidon in the trenches…

  Bast’s fists balled, his nostrils flaring. “I fucking knew it!”

  Leon shook his head in denial, but he couldn’t argue with what the evidence showed. No one could.

  Corvus had been there.

  The CSI team arrived a few hours after Mera’s call. Since they were Sidhe, they’d flown from Tir Na Nog to Lunor Insul upon her request.

  The faeries documented every inch of the crime scene, tagged the body for analysis in the continent, then checked Benedict and Leon for traces of blood and DNA, which they were cleared of. Sure, they’d stepped on Theodore’s nightblood, but so had Mera when she’d analyzed his wound—reaching for the body without leaving a mark on the floor had been impossible.

  Too much blood.

  Slashing Theodore’s carotid without getting a spray of dark red on them would have been impossible, which meant the two Dhays weren’t her main suspects anymore. Not a big surprise, considering Theodore had died holding Corvus’ pendant.

  Their testimonies didn’t shed any light into the murder, however.

  Leon had felt something was off with his brother through their mind link, but when he arrived, Theodore was already dead.

  This was when Bast fel
t his older brother’s pain.

  Benedict, on the other hand, simply knew the monk was in danger. “Twin bond or bad omen, Detective. Call it what you will,” he’d stated once he’d managed to recompose. But like Leon, Ben had arrived too late.

  To make things worse, there was no sign of a murder weapon anywhere.

  Giving out a wary sigh, Mera noticed one of the fae on the CSI team staring at her. She wondered if she had something on her face, when the Sidhe approached—autumn court by the burning red hair, same as Captain Asherath’s.

  “Thank you for your service,” he offered, bowing his head. “What you and detective Dhay did in Tir Na Nog was extraordinary.” Looking back at his team, he smiled. “The light courts are abiding to the law now, most of the time at least. I can finally trust my colleagues, because our precinct is clean. You’ve helped change our borough in a way we never thought possible.”

  “Thank you,” she said, feeling awfully undeserving. Leaning forward, Mera focused on his name tag. “Redford, right? Detective Dhay spoke highly of you when we were working the Summer King’s murder. You were the only one he trusted in analysis back in the old days.”

  Old days that weren’t so old at all.

  He nodded, surprise and delight beaming behind his brown irises.

  “It’s not all on us, though,” she went on. “If it weren’t for good fae willing to fight for Hollowcliff and Tagrad, fae like you, cleaning Tir Na Nog would have been impossible.”

  “You’re too kind, Detective Maurea.” A certain grief flashed past his eyes. “Tell Sebastian I’m truly sorry for what’s happening with his family, but if there’s anyone who can crack this case, it’s the both of you.” His chest puffed with pride. “Hollowcliff’s finest.”

  Someone called for Redford at the back of the room, and he excused himself.

  His team bagged Theodore with care and a world of respect; a gesture that Mera truly appreciated. She was certain Bast would too, but he was long gone by then—when she’d asked if he wanted to stay, he told her he had a murderer to catch.

  Meanwhile, Benedict had shut himself in his room, and Leon was preparing to deliver the news to their mother.

  “We will return the body in time for the burying rituals,” one of the fae in Redford’s team assured before bowing to Mera. He then left her alone with the stretcher and Theodore’s body for one last moment before their departure.

  Unzipping the top of the leather bag, she studied Theodore’s face. He looked peaceful, except for the dried stains of nightblood peppering his cheeks.

  If only he could tell her who’d ended his life...

  “I’ll do my best to get you justice,” she promised.

  Zipping the body bag shut again, Mera placed her hand atop his head. Faeries had verses they spoke when honoring their dead; she’d learned them back in school. Bast’s trick to unleash her Faeish might have brought back the words, somehow.

  “May you rejoice in Danu’s prairies and feast on her blessings,” Mera muttered. “May the beloved you leave behind never forget you. Until the day we meet again.”

  That was all she could give him for now. Justice would follow later, even if it was the last thing she did.

  Once Redford’s team was ready, they left with the monk. Mera watched them go, a prickling sensation stabbing her chest.

  If she had arrested Corvus when he’d visited her at the precinct, Theodore might still be alive.

  Bast paced around the precinct by the time she returned at night.

  Dropping on the old couch, Mera rubbed her forehead. “Redford says hello.”

  “Hmm,” he grumbled mindlessly. “Corvus is on the run. I’ve searched for him everywhere.”

  Her gut told her they were missing something. That the answer wasn’t as easy as Bast—and logic—wanted it to be.

  “Doesn’t it feel a bit too… odd?” she prodded, not knowing exactly what might be odd about it.

  “Not if you know Corvus,” he countered through clenched teeth.

  There was no arguing with her partner, at least for now, which was perfectly understandable. So Mera changed the subject. “I glamoured Rheina once more before coming here. She didn’t tell anyone else about seeing Theodore with the box.”

  “Of course. Corvus killed my father, and when Theo confronted him, the malachai ended him in cold blood.” Shaking his head, he crossed his arms. “I should have slit his throat when he poisoned you with enchanted wine. None of this would have happened if I’d just…” he stopped himself.

  If he’d just what?

  Let the nightblood take over? Murdered his own brother?

  He couldn’t really mean that.

  She studied Bast and the monumental loss burdening his eyes; a loss he kept tightly locked within his thousand walls.

  “When I killed my mother, I sobbed.” Mera wearily stood, going to him. “My brain refused to mourn her, but my heart did, even if she didn’t deserve it. It sounds stupid, but a part of me wished we’d had a second chance. That if I’d seen past her rage and hate, things would have been different.”

  Bast frowned at her with annoyance. He must have guessed her point.

  “I’m mourning Theodore in my own way. The thing is, I didn’t know him enough. He went to the monastery when I was young, and he did visit us, but after I went to the mainland, we never saw or contacted each other again. Same with Ben…” His voice faded.

  “You knew him,” she countered. “The problem is that you’ll never get the chance to know him more.”

  “We’re not the same, Mera. The monk is dead. No use in crying over it, is there?”

  Oh, Bast was calling her by her name. He only did that when he was horny or furious.

  “That’s awfully cold,” she noted.

  “It’s life.”

  Stepping closer, she hugged him, pressing her forehead against his chest. Mera wished she could take all his pain and fling it far, far away… “I’m really sorry, Bast. Theodore seemed to be good and kind. I’m sorry you never got to say goodbye.”

  She could feel him swallowing dry, his muscles clenched, his heart beating fiercely. His hands hovered in the air as if he couldn’t decide if he should hug her back or push her away.

  “I knew Theo,” he admitted quietly. “He read me stories late at night, and prayed to Danu for my safety.”

  Mera kept hugging him.

  “I’m fine, kitten,” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Thanks for being here. You can let go now.”

  She didn’t.

  Sighing in defeat, he wrapped his arms around her, his fingers clawing at her skin. “The last thing I told him was to shut up.” His back heaved with repressed grief. “Theo was the kindest of us, and I snapped at him. He didn’t deserve it, Mera.”

  “It’s okay. I’m here, partner.”

  Bast buried his face at the curve of her neck, and for the first time since they’d met, Sebastian Dhay allowed himself to cry.

  Chapter 19

  Leon’s coronation, which had been scheduled for the night after Theodore’s death, was postponed for five days. The future king declared a period of mourning, only to be lifted when he rose to the throne.

  Back in the mainland, Redford worked quickly. He sent back Theodore’s body within forty-eight hours, which was remarkable to say the least.

  The burial happened on the same day the monk returned to Lunor Insul, on a clearing near the top of the tallest mountain, not far from the palace. His family set Theodore atop a wooden pyre, filling his resting bed with white flowers that matched his burial robe.

  It was a small, and quiet ceremony that broke Mera’s heart.

  With a torch, Leon stepped forward and set the pyre on fire, his eyes glistening with tears. As flames engulfed the monk, he cried, Seraphina sobbed, Benedict… he merely stared, as if he couldn’t believe his brother was dead. And Bast? He carried the weight of it all on his shoulders, utterly in silence.

  They weren’t alone in their sorrow,
however. The entire island mourned the royal family’s loss.

  On the western side, tourists crammed flowers underneath a wooden statue carved with the Night Court’s crest. On the eastern side, nightlings paid their respects by lighting thousands of rice-paper lanterns on the first night after Theodore’s burial.

  The lanterns drifted into the sky, floating past the faerie lights, until they mingled with the stars. A symbolic gesture, Bast explained as Mera stared in awe, that was meant to represent all the souls guiding Theodore into Danu’s realms.

  They’d remained in silence until the last lantern disappeared into the dark, and even then, Bast kept staring into the sky with his hands in his pockets and a mask on his face. A mask that hid his monumental sorrow.

  Meanwhile, Corvus had disappeared into thin air.

  On the second day of mourning, Mera stared at her laptop, waiting impatiently for Redford’s e-mail with the results of the body’s analysis, which according to him, were on the way.

  Maybe the coroner’s report would shed some light into Theodore’s last moments; maybe it would help them bring his killer to justice.

  The wifi connection in Lunor Insul was dreadful, however. Rolling her eyes, Mera slouched over the table.

  Why couldn’t faeries fully embrace technology?

  Sighing, she watched the looping circle, until finally, a ping. She eagerly clicked the e-mail open and went through the report.

  “Hmm, odd,” she mumbled.

  Bast, who studied the same files from across the table, didn’t respond at first.

  The precinct had a laptop, miracle of miracles, and he knew how to run the basics, which didn’t come as a surprise, since filing reports in the system was a requirement for every Hollowcliff detective, fae or not. Still, it felt odd seeing him handle technology. It always did.

  After reading through the file in silence, he took a sip from a glass of water next to him. “You need to be more precise, kitten.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but thought twice. Corvus’ fingerprints had been found around the victim’s neck, stamped in Theodore’s nightblood. By the hands’ positioning and the amount of pressure exerted, the coroner deducted Corvus had tried to choke the monk.