Page 46 of Salem's Fall
“Fine! I will!”
I rush away from Damien, racing up the steps to the Cottage. I don’t know why I’m so upset; I knew it from the moment I met him. Damien Blackhollow is not a good guy, and he’s definitely not to be trusted.
Lucky is at my side the moment I return to my room, weaving between my legs and nudging my hand, his purr steady and comforting. I scoop him up, and he settles against me, warm and grounding. His soft black fur presses into my chest like he knows exactly what I need. He’s the one constant in my life who I know will never let me down.
I stand like that for what feels like forever, holding my cat, trying to catch my breath. Everything feels like it’s spiraling out of control. The more I dig, the more I realize how deep this rabbit hole goes. And I’m not sure I want to know what’s waiting at the bottom.
Eventually, I force myself to text the professor, making sure he’s around this late on a weekend afternoon. He texts back right away, thrilled to hear from me. We agree to meet at his shop in twenty minutes. I feed Lucky dinner and head out for the night, a cream-colored turtleneck sweater over my knit dress to protect me from the evening chill.
After a short walk, I push open the door to theWandering Raven, the bell chiming as I step inside. Something feels different this time. There’s a creeping stillness in the air, as if the shop itself knows what I’ve just uncovered about my family. Flickering candlelight casts long, twisted shadows against the walls, almost ominously.
I walk past the shelves stacked with old books, a ripple of unease tightening in my chest as I notice something I missed the last time I was here. Over in the corner, tucked away, is a glass case with an ancient-looking dagger inside. Its silver blade gleams under the dim lighting, intricate designs etched into the hilt. My breath catches as I realize the design closely resembles the one used in the murder of Damien’s fiancée—and my mother. The same curving lines, the same twisted spirals.
I take a step closer to get a better look. There’s a plaque underneath it, the following words handwritten in neat, calligraphic script:17th Century Sacrificial Blade. Origin: Unknown.
I turn away, trying to shake off the creeping dread, but everywhere I look, something else strange catches my eye: a row of vials filled with dark red liquid labeled “Vampire Blood”; bundles of dried plants and herbs with labels like “Nightshade,” “Foxglove,” and “Wolfsbane”; a rusted iron key on display called “The Key to the Underworld”; a pinboard of dried, dead moths.
A cold sweat forms at the base of my neck. Was this place always this creepy? Or am I now just more aware of it since learning about the Veil and what’s really at stake?
“James! Welcome back!”
I turn to see Professor Hargrove stepping out from behind a velvet curtain, his face lighting up. His smile is wide and warm. He’s even better looking than I remember with that casual, easy charm. Not a trace of the coldness or anger that I’d just dealt with from Damien.
“I’m glad you texted. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” He steps forward, his eyes locking onto mine with a mix of curiosity and something a bit hopeful. “Back for another history lesson?”
I smile. “You could say that.”
“Well, I’m flattered.” His eyes flicker with amusement. “Tell me—how did you find Strega’s Hollow?”
I hesitate for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal, but I remind myself that Hargrove is my best shot at figuring this all out. Damien has been lying to me from the beginning, hiding things. If anyone can give me the truth, it’s the professor.
So I tell him everything—about the Hollow, about Lucien,about what I’ve uncovered so far. I put it all on the table, everything except for my father’s connection to the Veil. I still want to keep that little bit of information to myself. For now, at least.
Hargrove listens intently, his face growing more serious with each passing moment. When I finish, there’s a moment of silence before he lets out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.
“Lucien Blackhollow,” he murmurs. “Now, there’s a name I didn’t expect to hear. I’m shocked Damien allowed you anywhere near his brother, considering those two can hardly stand to be in the same room together.”
“Why do they hate each other so much?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
Hargrove leans against the counter, his expression thoughtful. “Lucien has always been a thorn in Damien’s side,” he explains. “They’re half-brothers, sure, but Damien’s perfect existence has always been a reminder of something Lucien’s questioned his whole life—his place. Ian Blackhollow never wanted Lucien and certainly never raised him to inherit the family empire. But Damien? Damien was the golden child, the one Ian groomed for power from the very beginning.”
“And Lucien resents that?”
Hargrove’s mouth twitches into something that isn’t quite a smile. “Lucien resents a lot of things. His family. His position. That no matter how hard he fights for control, he’ll never be Damien.” He tilts his head. “Lucien has been circling the Veil’s leadership for years, waiting for an opportunity to take what he believes should be his. And with Damien set to take the reins, well… let’s just say it’s not hard to imagine Lucien having his own plans.”
I swallow hard. “You think Lucien could be involved in Damien’s fiancée’s death?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time a Blackhollow committedmurder.” His gaze meets mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. “James, you seem like a good person, but you’re stepping into something far darker than you realize. There are forces at play here that even the Blackhollows can’t control. I wonder if it might be best for you to forget what you’ve learned and return to Boston. Let someone else handle this case.”
“I don’t have a choice, Nick. I can’t just walk away.” I clench my fists, a steely resolve settling over me. “It’s not only about my career anymore—this is personal.”
“Personal? How so?” His eyes narrow. “Please tell me you aren’t… emotionally attached to Damien. Or, even worse, that sociopath Lucien?”
“Oh no, nothing like that,” I say quickly and look down at the gorgeous ring on my finger, twisting it back and forth.Damien’s ring.
Part of me wonders if I’m being honest. I haven’t known Damien long, but there have been moments where I’ve felt somethingbetween us. Something more than simply professional feelings. I have to admit I wouldn’t be so hurt and angry by this betrayal if I hadn’t started to care about him, just a little. Still, Damien alone is not what’s keeping me here in Salem’s Fall, desperate for the truth. It goes much deeper than that.
I glance over at Hargrove again. Something about the way he’s looking at me makes me feel safe, like maybe I can trust him, and I so desperately want someone to trust in this damn town.
