Page 108 of Mistress of Lies

Samuel started after her, but Isaac’s hand found his—his grip tight and desperate. “Please,” he whispered. “Stay.”

Shan nodded at them. “What I need to do is on my own, anyway.” She lurched forward, like she was going to say something, do something, but she just turned and headed out.

Moving back to Isaac, Samuel pressed his hand against his face. “Are you going to be all right?”

Isaac just pressed against him.

“Eventually,” Isaac said, so very softly.

Wrapping his arms around Isaac, Samuel held him close, hoping that this would be enough.

It would have to be enough.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Shan

Shan found Samuel exactly where she had left him, with her stacks of notes, telling him to look at anything he wanted. There were official reports, autopsy reports, background information on the victims, detailed breakdowns of magical theory that no doubt went over his head.

It was both overwhelming and disturbing, the life and death of five people reduced to clinical, sterile information. And sitting next to it all was a hastily scribbled note with a simple name—Sarah Dean.

She had spent days going over it, determined to find the killer and keep her promises to Isaac, but she had found nothing to help. So, with a fear in her heart that she couldn’t quite squash, she had done as Samuel had asked.

She let him in.

She asked for help.

Samuel pushed away from the desk, his handsome features twisted into something dark and grim. He clenched a note in his hand—one that Shan had hoped he wouldn’t find. “Anton knew the second victim?”

“Yes,” she said. “Jessica James. She imported books for him. Tagalan books.”

Samuel dropped the note. “And I know that he knew Sarah Dean. That’s at least two of the victims. Multiple ways for him to get into this.”

“I know,” Shan snapped.

Samuel shut his mouth, then softly ventured, “Shan—”

“No! He is my brother!” She pulled herself tall, as if she could deny the facts by sheer will alone. “My twin. I know him, he would never do this.”

Because if he did, she’d lose him either way. Because if he did, she’d have no choice at all.

“All right,” Samuel said, holding his hands up in surrender. “All right.”

Shan dashed away her tears. “I’m being foolish. It’s just… bad luck.” Steeling herself, she lifted her chin up high. “And I will prove it tonight.”

Samuel reached for her, stepping forward, but stopped himself—an aborted, harsh movement.

Shan pretended not to notice. “We’ll prove it,” she said.

“Ah, yes,” Samuel said. “What exactly is the plan?”

“We’re going to the Fox Den, and we’ll find out what we can on Sarah. You go in the front, like any normal night—”

“Any normal night I wouldn’t be gambling,” Samuel interrupted, and Shan shot him an exasperated look.

“You,” she said, stressing the word, “will be acting like normal, gambling, having a good time. See if anything is off.”

“Wait, I’m supposed to do this?”

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