Page 111 of Live To Tell

Annabelle's mouth twists in disgust. “It's a disgusting, immoral use of magic and everyone who possesses the power has a corrupt soul. Necromancers use their abilities to further their own ends.”

“My mother never has,” she retorts. “And neither will I.”

“I don't believe that,” she sneers.

“How did Madison die and who killed her?” shoots back an increasingly agitated Violet. “Tell us and the door handle will become functional again.”

Annabelle sucks her lips together and looks between the three of us. “Since nobody has seen Maddy since the night she disappeared, my best friend killed herself.”

Again, Annabelle manages to stun Violet into silence.

“Why would she do that?” asks Rowan cautiously.

She gives him a long look. “Because Viktor Whitegrove was—or is—a necromancer. He threatened to kill Maddy himself and bring her back as his. Permanently. Maddy intended to ensure her body wouldn't be... viable.”

“How?” I ask.

“She was one of the top students in potions. Created something that would poison her blood and body, and no magic would touch her.”

Violet scoffs. Actually scoffs. “Then Madison must be alive. The sensible course of action would be to use the poison on Viktor.”

Annabelle gawks at Violet. “If she'd killed him, Maddy wouldn’t survive long. His family would discover what happened. His father’s Cornelius Whitegrove. Circle leader.”

Whoa. Violet stares. “Cornelius Whitegrove covered up a murder?”

“There's no Viktor Whitegrove on record as his son or a relative,” says Rowan. “Neither is there a Whitegrove male who matches Viktor’s age. I've looked into his family. Repeatedly.”

Annabelle shrugs. “The family would never risk a scandal like that. There’s no record of him because he ‘disappeared’, and they erased him from the family. The Whitegroves would know what happened—no way would Vik manage to dispose of Maddy’s body on his own. I bet someone paid Maddy’s parents a lot of money or used some potent mind magic.”

“The Whitegroves would’ve killed Maddy?” I ask.

She blinks, as if finally noticing me. “Are you a hemia?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Keep away from the kids out there.” She jabs a finger towards the playing fields.

My jaw slackens. “Hemia don't spend their days stalking and murdering kids—or anybody. That's racist.”

She throws him a look of contempt. “Believe me, humans are less accepting of your type.”

“How is the likelihood of Grayson massacring a children's soccer team relevant?” interrupts Violet.

Annabelle keeps her eyes trained on me for a moment. I've seen the look many times—distrust mixed with distaste, as if I'm a rodent that needs poisoning. “I don't trust hemia.”

“Oh. So not relevant. Can we get back to Madison’s ridiculous decision to poison herself?” says Violet blithely.

Something within Annabelle twists and snaps as if a glow stick, sending white magic to her fingers. “How would you feel if death was the only way to escape life controlled by a necromancer or his family?” She fists her hands against the magic. “You'd never understand because no male would ever attempt to control you.”

“Neither could they kill me,” she replies. “So, no. I don't understand.”

Annabelle’s mouth turns down. “Maddy split with Vik after months of him treating her like crap. She wouldn’t listen to us—either he used mind magic, or she couldn’t see him for what he was. A week before the dance, he attacked her, and she finally woke up to what type of guy he was. Maddy ended the relationship, but he refused to leave her alone.”

“Why didn't Madison go for help? Ask authorities to involve themselves?” asks Violet.

“The world was a different place thirty years ago,” says Annabelle stiffly. “The Whitegroves had too much power and influence.”

“How did she know exactly when Viktor planned to kill and reanimate her?” asks Rowan cautiously. “Surely she didn’t carry poison around every day.”

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