Page 99 of Switching Graves

“Good morning, sunshine,” One of the strange men crows with a wide, sadistic smile spread across his face.

In a panic, I sit up on my elbows, wincing at my bruising ribs and fatigued limbs. The two men wait, watching with impatient scowls as I roll onto my knees and force myself to stand on wobbly legs. Raze keeps his expression neutral, never one to display his thoughts on his face while Divina looks like she just saw a ghost.

Why the hell am I so sore?

“Miss Ellery, we’d like to have a word with you,” one of the unfamiliar men says, taking a step backward when I stumble in his direction.

Frowning, I look between the four of them, trying to make sense of how they’re all connected. A breeze picks up around us, ruffling the few leaves that are stubbornly hanging on to their branches, and the sound activates something in my mind, reopening the floodgates. Memories of the past twenty-four hours come crashing through.

“Who are you?” I ask him, then nod toward the other stranger in silent question.

“I’m James Stanson, mayor of Nocturne Valley,” the first man introduces before he extends his hand to the man beside him. “This is Ashton Payne.”

Payne. . . I’ve heard that before. Could he be related to the same Payne who was in Finley’s journals?

Probably, considering how everyone is somehow tied together here. The sour look pinching his face right nowcertainly matches Finley’s description of the man who ordered his death.

“Why are you here? Withher?” I direct the question toward Whitlock. My lip raises in disgust at the woman who committed such unforgivable acts.

After what I witnessed in those visions—regardless that it happened more than two decades ago—I wouldn’t have been able to stand within ten feet of her without hurting her if I were him.

She killed his brother.She’s a murderer.How is she still able to stand here as a free woman?

The statement seems to stir something up in her. “That’s no way to address your aunt,” Divina says in mock offense, clicking her tongue as she side-eyes me from over her upturned nose.

“There’s quite a bit you don’t know about me,” is all Whitlock supplies in that annoying, smug tone.

Divina steps toward me. While the mask of irritation she usually wears around me is still in place, there’s something lifeless about her eyes. “Raze is the man we send when someone commits unforgiving crimes against us,” she bobs her head and explains slowly, as if I’m a child.

“We?”

They all share a questioning look until Ashton speaks. “Might as well tell her. She already knows about us.” He shrugs.

“The Midnight Syndicate, dear,” Divina supplies.

Matilda was right. The Syndicate is real. And Aunt Divina is a part of it? How the hell could she have hidden this from us for all these years?

“The Midnight Syndicate reaches far beyond Nocturne Valley. You would be surprised who is a part of it. Everything from family members, friends . . . lovers.”

Matilda knew. She tried to warn me, and I blew her off.

Swinging back to face Whitlock, I tilt my head. “You’re . . . you’re a part of the Midnight Syndicate?” I ask him disbelievingly.

All this time, I’ve been blindly searching for the elusive secret society while sleeping with one of their members.

He keeps his mouth shut, lips forced together in a thin line.

“A part of it? Darling, he’s the last thing people see before they die,” Ashton chuckles.

My heart drops into my stomach. “You’re lying . . . ”

Divina lowers her chin, eyes boring into mine to make sure she’s got my full attention to land her blow before she asks, “Who do you think killed your parents?”

“No. My mother killed them . . . ” I slowly say. My mind scrambles to put these pieces together and form a full picture, but my heart doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth.

While I’ve been sneaking around as Poppy, they’ve been playing a much more insidious game.

“He did an outstanding job posing it as an accident, didn’t he? Probably his best work,” James muses adoringly, winking at Raze.

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