“Do you think Viktor killed this person too?” asks Violet.
Annabelle fixes her with a look. “I don't know.”
“Do you think he was human?” continues Violet. “Her secret lover?”
“Possibly. We hung out with humans.”
“Then what if Viktor didn’t do this?” I suggest. “What if Madison broke the rules and told the human what she was and about the hidden world? People died for that.”
“Vik did this,” says Annabelle tersely. “As I said, I’m leaving. Do not follow.”
Annabelle has her hands full with the water for the kids, so I open the door for her. The woman doesn't thank me for my gentlemanly gesture and gives me that same look as earlier. Does she have a bad history with hemia?
“Sawyer,” says Violet as the door clicks closed. “He's the secret lover.”
“That's a long shot,” says Rowan.
“Are you kidding me? We found the tiara hidden under floorboards in the man's office!”
I tap my lips. “I agree with Violet. There's a link, especially if the witches targeting shifters and Kai are necromancers.”
“You think he's the one behind the shifter deaths?” asks Rowan.
“Kai said Sawyer hates witches, even though he associates with them. Maybe Madison is the reason why?” I suggest. “Someone’s trying to screw up Sawyer's life and if this Viktor is as bad a psycho as he seems, I'd lay bets he'd kill.”
“Perhaps Dorian will listen to me now,” says Violet. “We need to talk to him, and he won't be happy.”
“Uh. I’ll sit that one out. I don't want to be in a room with an unhappy Dorian,” I say quickly. “Ever.”
“Why won't he be happy?” asks Rowan. “Dorian told you he doesn't care about random deaths.”
“But Dorian will care that there're people hidden from him. That a witch he discounted as harmless has a son who murdered and could be responsible for all this,” says Violet. “He needs to find Joe Smith—who he is, where he is.”
I don't want to say what I increasingly believe. Dorian isn't as in control as he thinks and it's only a matter of time before he loses the control he still has.
Over his world and himself.
Chapter 38
VIOLET
Finally—and begrudgingly—Dorian listens to me, immediately setting about searching for Joe Smith, a job made difficult by Viktor deliberately choosing a ridiculously common human name. As there’s no Joe Smith connected to witches, the task proves harder than we thought. I’ve arranged to meet Dorian tomorrow for a full debrief, which will include some smug looks from me.
Annabelle told us Viktor lives in the city, but how long ago did she discover that? What if he doesn’t live there any longer?
The witch held in custody over the attack on Kai either feigns ignorance or is mentally blocked from sharing information about Viktor/Joe. We can’t be a hundred percent sure Joe’s involved, but there also can’t be many hidden necromancers out there.
I sit with the guys in the cafe we’ve adopted as a meeting place, now that we want to avoid Mrs. Eldridge and the library. Rowan has his laptop and the four of us huddle around. Humans watch—what do they think we discuss when we’re here? They still avoid us—and I still haven’t seen Kai. A good thing that he’s not walking in the world while the threat to him still exists.
I spent a little time with Leif when he returned from his mother’s, again reassuring him we’d fix the situation. I’m more certain than ever that the deeds Rowan photographed must be the missing ones, so if we find who’s connected to the box, we’ll find those. I’m still curious why nobody destroyed them. Leverage?
Mostly, Leif hugged me and stared into nothingness, revealing little about how he felt—something I still find a little contradictory to him accusing me of the same behavior. At least he’s safe from the elders for now, if they keep their promise to leave him alone while Ethan searches for the deeds.
Leif now munches on a chocolate muffin the size of my hand while Rowan drinks coffee as he contemplates his findings. Grayson and I never eat or drink anything at the cafe, which the others don’t comment on. No surprises with the developing hemia, but I’m pushing away concerns why I’ve less appetite recently.
“How many Joe Smiths have you eliminated?” I ask, and pull out my notepad. Inside, I’ve a folded A4 sheet with a list of addresses, each Joe numbered. “And I don’t mean literally.”
“Narrowed down to five who’re the right age,” says Rowan.