Page 23 of Blood & Ice

“Scrying attempts have led us here,” I said.

William shot me a puzzled look. While he was technically a vampire now, he’d been a warlock once upon a time. He was a regular visitor in the Scapegrace sanctum house and had routine conversations with Wanda’s familiar, Hellcat. He would have heard if anyone in Scapegrace had done a spell for me. Except,perhaps, from Maverick.

Cici’s lip curled. “Accusations from witches. Very credible.”

“I trust my source,” I said quietly.

I might not credit Aurea with much, but I knew she wouldn’t lie about her daughter’s murder. She’d given me every scrap of evidence and resource she could find, and dumped it on my lap along with her ultimatum. She wouldn’t accuse the Portland clan when there were so many other scapegoats she could pursue closer to home.

“I need to know if any of your vampires have had trouble with control,” I said. “Or perhaps criminal records further back than my searches can find.”

Cici’s eyes went cold. “I haven’t signed any agreements with Haven Hollow, Princess Olwen, nor do I answer to the throne of Winter. I brought you here as a courtesy, and now I’m being accused of fostering a murderer.”

“Unless the bite radius matches your fangs, I’m not accusing you of anything,” I said on a shrug. “The reports actually lean toward a male. The bite radius was rather large. I’m just asking for your cooperation. Sheltering a killer will only come back to bite you. Literally.” She arched her brow at me and I continued. “The victim was sedated before being fed on and was left to rot somewhere out of the way when the deed was done. That’s premeditated murder. Anyone with a conscience would want justice to be served.”

Cici laid the blade flat on the desk, fixing each of us with a hard stare. Her fingers curled around the ivory handle as though she were contemplating which of us she should lunge toward. Eventually the tension in her shoulders eased and she slapped on a patently false smile.

“Of course I want that, Princess. I’ll have my personal assistant look into this. If you would be so kind as to leave your contact information with her, I’d be much obliged.”

“I was thinking I could take a look around—” I began.

“—I’m sorry, but that will be impossible,” she interrupted. “I have to think of my people’s privacy. You may search the premises when you come back with a warrant.” Then Cici stood up in another jerky motion and rounded the desk, offering me a hand and that infuriatingly fake smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Princess Olwen. I hope next time we meet under happier circumstances.”

She seized my hand when I didn’t move toward her, clasping my fingers hard enough that the tips of my fingers purpled. The oily polish she’d used on the blade clung to my hand when I pulled it back. I tried to rub it discreetly on my coat, but only managed to get a static shock for my trouble.

“I hope so too,” I said, distracted by the subtle pulse of a stitched rune on my coat. Mav had tooled the leather for maximum protection, but maybe it was on the fritz. I’d never had a sigil just appear in response to my touch.

“Goodbye,” Cici said brightly. “Be seeing you soon.”

“I really hope not,” I muttered under my breath.

Chapter Twelve

Taliyah

I just stared.

And stared some more.

God, this couldn’t be happening. Not today. Not after everything I’d gone through to get to this point.

Any yet, there she was, hunched over the table at the coven house, scanning the photos in the folder with horrified fascination. How the hell had she gotten to it? I’d left it in the warded fire safe Maverick had bought me for Christmas. Or Yule, as he called it. Nothing short of a rhino should have been able to crack it. But the pictures were still fanned out over the maple wood surface of the dining room table in all their grisly glory, out in public for anyone to see.

My first thought was that Maverick must have undone the wards and decided to consult her without my knowledge or approval. I banished that idea almost as soon as it formed. Maverick was many things, but disloyal to me wasn’t one of them. I’d seen him face down high witches and winter queens alike to see that the people he loved came home safe and whole.

He wouldn’t have shown the pictures to Astrid for two reasons: one, he hadn’t okayed a consult with me, the lead investigator on the case. And two, he was absurdly protective of his little sister, though she’d proven she could handle herself. Mav wouldn’t have subjected her to bloody reminders of what could have happened to her if Valserak hadn’t decided to blood her, instead of leaving her corpse to rot. Which meant she had to have taken it through some kind of faerie sorcery I had yet to encounter.

Astrid’s already bloodless face blanched bone white when she spied me lurking in the kitchen doorway. She tried to shove the papers and photos back into the manila folder withoutsuccess. All she managed to do was fold the toxicology and autopsy reports into failed origami. She quivered with tension, her copper hair starting to glow like fiber optics as her magic rose with her stress.

“I... uh... this isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

“No?” I began coolly. “Because it looks like you took advantage of my absence to rifle through my personal files. Unless you’re cleverly concealing a belated birthday card underneath that mess, I think it’s exactly what it looks like.”

Astrid chewed her bottom lip, careful of her fangs. It made her look younger than the eternally nineteen-year-old girl she appeared to be. A hint of panic flashed across her face when she heard Rook and William entering the house after me. Ah, to be young and in love again. I hadn’t hung my hopes and dreams on a man for years, too jaded by Jonathan’s numerous betrayals to trust that someone would stick around. Rook did seem to love Astrid back, so maybe they’d turn out alright.

If I didn’t give in to my urge to turn Mav’s sister into a popsicle, that is. I could feel the winter inside me, an arctic gale longing to rip free of my body and tear through the house, ripping appliances from the wall before plunging the entire house into a sub-zero wasteland of snow and ice. Normally, when I felt like this, I went to Poppy’s. There was a lake miles from her property where I could let loose. But leaving meant giving Astrid more time with the files, and she’d already seen enough.

“Give that to me,” I said, and could hear the howling wind in my voice. Astrid shrank back as though it had been a shout.

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