Page 65 of Evidence of a Folktale

“What happened?” Eamon’s hand slid against her back, halting her retreat from the swarm around Miss Monroe, and she flinched at his sudden closeness. She hadn’t seen him re-enter the set.

“That falling light almost killed Taron,” she answered, and Eamon cursed low and savage in her ear.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It didn’t fall near me, and Rollo saved her,” she said, that nagging thought worming its way deeper. “Where were you? Did you see anyone tampering with the lights? I didn’t, but I wasn’t paying close attention.”

“I got an urgent call from one of my overseas investors. It was too loudinhere to hear him, so I stepped outside. It’s been a while since I’ve had tohold a conversationin Japanese, so I needed the quiet. I checked the set before I left, though. There were no threats.”

“You speak Japanese?” She squinted at him.

“I speak many languages,” he answered. “And I didn’t see anyone tampering with the lights.I watched the tech setting them up, but he wasjustdoing his job.Maybe he didn’t secure it properly… What are you thinking?”

“Could Taron be the killer?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s convinced The Wolf broke ontosetand tried to kill her, but what if she asked the technician to loosen the clamp on purpose? Rollo snatched her out of the way, but if she’d known it was coming, she could’ve dodged it herself. Plus, with security this tight, no one’s here that shouldn’t be,” she said. “If the killer’s present, he’s supposed to be here. He’s someone people wouldn’t bat an eye at. Someone women would climb into a car at night with… like a famous actress.”

“And the letters?” Eamon asked.

“She sent them to herself,” Bel said. “If you tell a female cop that a man’s stalking you and the studio executives don’t care, you’ll have said cop eating out of your hand because victims aren’t usually the killers. What if the producers aren’t worried about the letters because they aren’t real? She sends them to herself to throw off suspicionthe same asthe falling light.”

“But why kill those women? And why draw your attention to her stalker if the letters are herowncreations?”

“Not sure. To solidify herself as a victim in our minds? Beau Draven is a flirt, and Taron loves male attention. Maybe Gwen Rossa and Ellery Roja were romantically involved with him, and she grew jealous.”

Eamon cursed, and his grip on her back tightened. “There haven’t been any deaths since you joined Miss Monroe on set. She has access to props and costumes, and you’re right. Luring women into a car at night without force points to someone they weren’t afraid of, and there’s nothing scary about Taron Monroe.”

“She doesn’t seem the type to hunt down and butcher girls in the woods, though.” Bel sagged against his chest.

“She’s an actress,” Eamon said. “A good one, from what I’ve seen. This nice guy act could be just that.”

“It’s just a theory, but are we protecting a murderer?”

“It’s possible,” Eamon said. “There’s someone here who isn’t human.”

“Who? And why didn’t you mention it earlier?” Bel’s eyes flicked around the chaotic room. “It can’t be Taron. She was at my house, and you didn’t scent anything.”

“Because everywhere I turn lately, there’s an unfamiliar scent. When I was outside just now, a girl in her twenties was trying to sneak ontosetfor a photo.She realized I was the alpha of the area when I caught herandgave me this tiny bow before practically breaking into a terrified run.She was merely a lesser witch, but I could only tell because she stood so close, and there was no one else nearby to muddle her scent. Most of the time, though, there are too many people clumped together for me to distinguish. Plus…” he gestured to the actors dressed in full creature makeup. “I can’t tell who any of them are. One of them could be a supernatural playing a supernatural for the irony. The costumes and synthetic makeup distort scents with their chemicals.”

“Maybe you should hang back,” Bel said.

“What? No.” He leaned around her torso until his glare forced her to meet his disapproving gaze.

“Not leave me. Just hang back.” She shoved him, but the wall of muscle didn’t budge. He resisted her strength for a defiant moment beforeshovingforward to kiss her scarred throat. The room was preoccupied with Taron’s brush with death, granting the couple anonymity amidst the crowd.

“Taron was asking about you the other day,” Bel laughed as his lips tickled her skin, and she nudged him with her hip until he stood up. “I thought it was because she genuinely wanted to learn if you were single, but what if she was gauging how closely you’re monitoring me? If you stay out of sight, she might assume she’s free to act. Let’s see if it tempts her to move against me… and if she isn’t The Wolf, the killer might emerge from hiding without you hovering.”

“Your phone.” Eamon slipped it from her back pocket and shoved it into her hand for emphasis. “I can track your location as long as it’s on. Keep this charged and on your person at all times, do you understand? Otherwise, I’m throwing you over my shoulder and taking you home.”

“How barbaric.”

“You didn’t complain the last time I did that,” he said with a dangerous pitch to his deep voice, and Bel elbowed him in the ribs… hard. He didn’t so much as flinch.

“Of course, I’ll leave my phone on,” she said. “If anything happens and you don’t come for me, I’ll make you mortal and kill you myself. I’m not running down snowy mountains alone anymore. Next time that happens, I expect you to toss me over your shoulder and carry me down instead.”

“Don’t say that. You’re never ending up alone on a snowing mountain again.”

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