Page 40 of Wicked Court

With a hard sniff to lock my emotions down, I turn the journal’s pages, filled with rows of meticulous code. As I turn the journal's pages, I struggle to understand the entries because of the old-school encryption. Yet, the repetition of certain symbols and numbers hints at a structured method to the madness. It’s clear William Jonquil wasn’t just keeping a diary. He was maintaining a ledger, a detailed record of activities too risky to write plainly.

The name Sarah Anderton appears again and again.

Doings is a word that crops up frequently, too, a vague term that could encompass anything from daily chores to grand schemes. But context is key. Entries mentioning doings are often followed by lists of names, locations, and dates, all encoded.

My mind races—could these “doings” be operations, missions of some sort? The notion of smuggling leaps out at me, an act of moving something—or someone—secretly and safely.

But that wouldn’t make sense. Sarah didn’t deal in rescues or benevolent acts, rather the clandestine movement of secrets, potentially dangerous substances, or even individuals marked by her lethal skill set.

Poisons.

Uh-oh.

Was my brother’s doppelgänger ancestor a murderer for hire, too?

But nothing prepares me for the jolt I feel when I stumble upon the mention of the ruby Heart, a name Kaspian specifically mentioned before he swallowed my breath and infused me with his heat.

I need more time to decode, but I’ve figured out enough to know the ruby Heart here isn’t just an artifact. It’s entwined with words like “curse” and “doom,” just like Kaspian said. And Cav.

Was it an instrument of her alleged witchcraft, a tool in her assassinations, or something even more sinister?

My shock deepens as I realize this journal implicates Wraithwood estate not just in Sarah Anderton’s shadowy world but in a legacy considered cursed.

I need to know more, understand how deep this goes, and what it means for me. The mention of the ruby in this context, surrounded by talk of misfortune and bad acts, isn’t something I can just pass on to the Untouchable Four and then forget all about it.

The last entry is a hand-drawn map with several locations marked—none of which are named.

“Of course not,” I mutter. “Why would you make it easy on me, my how-many-greats-grandad?”

My fingers trace the markings on the map, finally settling on one location. It’s the closest to where I am now, and I can’t help but wonder how many more hidden chambers I can uncover before I go to bed.

“Maybe it’s time to take a little field trip,” I tell myself, excitement bubbling inside me, mixed with trepidation.

I snap a photo of the map with my phone, then carefully tuck the journal against my chest, deciding to stash it in my bag as soon as I get back to it.

As I step out of the secret study, I find myself daydreaming about what else I might uncover. Will it lead me to the truth about my family and Sarah Anderton? Or will it only raise more questions?

Whatever awaits me, I vow to figure it out before the Untouchable Four do.

Chapter 15

Elara

The winding mountain road carries me deeper into the fog-shrouded Appalachians. My hands grip the steering wheel as I scan the tree line for any signs of life.

I expected solitude, but the prickling on my neck whispers I’m not alone.

A flash of movement.

I slam the brakes, heart hammering.

“Dammit,” I breathe out with a hiss as the figure bounds away.

Just a deer leaping out of the deathtrap of my headlights and into the thicket.

Get it together, Elara.

But my senses remain on high alert, certain someone is out here and they know what I’m up to.

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