Page 17 of Blackwicket
The Inspector rose to my meager challenge and took a few relaxed steps forward, bringing us ever closer. My pulse jumped and I considered what he might do to me now that we were no longer in Devin, divided by a metal table, with no other Authority to observe or inhibit him. The most effective weapon at my disposal was angry with me, and I wasn’t sure if the house would come to my aid if called. He drew close enough that I was forced to raise my chin to maintain eye contact, and the pride keeping me from opening to the house bowed.
“I think it haseverythingto do with you, Eleanora Blackwicket.” He raised a hand toward me, and in a flash of blind panic, I dropped my defenses to let Blackwicket House in. But no response came, no flood of cursed magic, no rippling of the fabric of the shadows. Only static, empty, nothing.
The Inspector’s fingers brushed along a wayward curl at my forehead, and when he withdrew, he held a shard of frosted glass, curved and sharp as a sickle. I’d forfeited my self-respect for nothing, but at the very least, I’d maintained physical composure, denying the Inspector the satisfaction of knowing he’d frightened me.
“I didn’t murder Ms. Rosley.” I was proud of my even tone.
“No,” he said, looking at me as if he thought that was a shame. At last, he gave a regretful shake of his head and turned away, examining the sliver as he went, a piece of a puzzle he couldn’t place. “The curse you so charitably removed caused Kate Rosley’s death. You stealing it is a separate crime, but I won’t jump to any conclusions until I learn a bit more about you and your unusual family. I especially have questions regarding your sister, Fiona.”
Here it was—the moment when the consequences of the lives we’d lived, the secrets we’d wrapped ourselves in, all thewretched, dreadful mistakes, were finally coming to call. The Authority knew about Darren, Fiona, me, and if I didn’t tread carefully, there’d be no stopping them from discovering the scar of the Narthex etched in the wall of the parlor.
“My sister is dead, Inspector. That’s why my father was there, to fetch me and bring me home for her burial.”
“I heard.” Sympathy fit in his mouth too poorly to be sincere. “My condolences. Was she involved in anything untoward, Ms. Blackwicket? Something that might have had a hand in her untimely end?”
“Like my father, Inspector, I haven’t spoken to Fiona in a decade. I have no insights into her life.”
“But that’s not true.” He set the shard on the desktop next to the guest book, arranging it like he expected future visitors to prick their fingers and sign their names in blood. “She met you in Devin several weeks ago at that tedious new cafe near the University district.”
He’d been tailing me, haunting me for weeks after my arrest.
“You had no right to follow me.” My voice rose despite my efforts to remain placid. “I was absolved of all wrongdoing in that case.”
“Youwere,” he conceded, “An oversight on the Bureau’s part, but in any event, they don’t let potential Curse Eaters back on the streets without monitoring them, acquitted of murder or not. Plus, I had a feeling. You didn’t quite fit the bill for a displaced country girl, far from home, a victim of circumstance. And the curse that got Brock Moftan?”
He offered a low whistle.
“All I want to do is bury Fiona. She deserves that. Then I’ll leave and you can stop wasting your valuable resources attempting to soothe your bruised ego.”
This encouraged a tight smile.
“I didn’t just track you out here for a good time, Ms. Blackwicket. I was assigned by the Authority to this backwater hole to investigate several disappearances, all involving some powerful, well-connected families. We have reason to believe your Fiona was involved in these cases and perhaps taking part in a few more unsavory things besides.”
“What reason?” I demanded, hoping I sounded like a woman outraged by the accusation rather than one who feared it could be true.
“I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding, and we can clear her name.” He evaded the question, his placating tone rankling me, then scratched his cheek and feigned contrition. “That reminds me. I’ll be staying in town a while, and the recommended hotels are a little too crowded for my tastes. So, I’ll thank you for renting me a bed for the time being.”
Laughing in his face seemed like an unsafe route, so I refrained.
“You can’t stay here. This isn’t a functioning inn. it hasn’t been for years.”
“Your sister would have disagreed,” he replied, watching for my reaction. He knew something I didn’t, and so did Darren. Fiona’s secrets belonged to everyone but me. “Don’t bother yourself with the details, I’ve already chosen my room.”
He held up his hand, clasping in his previously empty palm a set of keys taken from the cabinet. I spared a look at the board. The key missing belonged to the room near the top of the third-floor stairs. Animosity spread through my limbs, dampening the heartache and fear that had been keeping me off balance. My cheeks grew hot with the impotent rage bounding behind my ribs, nowhere to be safely expressed, doomed to feed the scraps of the Drudge I hadn’t yet dislodged. Said creature twisted, its maw opening to swallow my fury. If the Inspector was so eager to stay, to stick his hand in corners where vicious things werehiding, I’d allow it. Blackwicket House wasn’t inclined to protect me, but it would most certainly protect itself, and, like Brock Moftan, I’d be happy to see curses do their work on the Inspector.
“This is an opportunity, Ms. Blackwicket. Two people with a history like ours,” Inspector Harrow motioned between us, indicating a connection, “are owed a second chance to get it right. We have another opportunity to get better acquainted because, as it turns out, I don’t know you at all. I look forward to remedying that.”
Another man might have accompanied these remarks with a gamey wink, but even this was too human a thing for Inspector Harrow, whose countenance remained dispassionate.
“I already know everything I can stomach about you,” I said, venting my anger.
“Hm,” was his dismissive response as he tucked the room key into his pocket and began buttoning his overcoat. “I have some business to see to before I beg further hospitality, but I’ll ask you to refrain from padlocking the main gate, it was a bitch to get open.”
“I wasn’t expecting company,” I snapped.
“An honest mistake. You make a lot of those, don’t you?”
“Inspector…”
