Page 119 of Live To Tell

Dorian’s scrutiny of Grayson doesn’t waver and he gestures between us. “Okay. Here’s a rule. That boy does not take your blood, Violet.”

“I don’t want to,” blurts Grayson.

Silently, Dorian steps closer and looks down, at a paling Grayson. “Liar.” Then he turns back to me. “There’s something in your blood that would kill him, Violet.”

“Because I’m hybrid? Vampire blood kills witches, not the other way around. You risked that with Eloise.”

“No. Not because you’re hybrid, but because you’re Violet Blackwood.” He frowns for a moment. “Risk it if you want, I don’t care. You know I’m happy to reduce the Petrescu population.”

I swallow down impertinent words that could lead to an argument and rile Dorian further—unwise when one of his targets stands in the room. Dorian’s obsessed. And frustrated; an unsettled undercurrent running through his self-assured energy. My father hasn’t tracked down the man who explicitly threatened his rule or the people Josef works with.

Has Dorian’s gamble by letting Josef walk away from Kai’s birthday cost him?

I glance at Grayson. Dorian ‘has use’ for Grayson? Exactly what I told Grayson would happen when he worried about his safety the night in the gym.

Always one to enjoy the final word, Dorian saunters from the room, and I call after him that we’ll speak later but get no response.

Grayson drops onto my desk chair. “Fuck.”

My phone buzzes.

“At least he knows about us now,” I say, pulling the phone from my black cardigan pocket.

“Yeah, that’s the reason for me saying ‘fuck’.”

“Mmm.” I’m not listening, forgetting all irritation with Dorian as I read Rowan’s message.

I’ve found something big

“Rowan’s room. Now.” I snatch Grayson’s hand and drag him after me, attempting to keep myself at an allowed speed.

We head straight to Rowan. His room’s in the usual disarray, an open laptop beside notes, and his face a picture of excitement.

“Joe Smith’s connected to the elderly couple who live next to the reno house,” he says breathlessly, and I watch as he pulls up images on his phone screen. “While you were at the library, I went back to the street because I’m convinced we’ve missed something. There’re a few trades vans parked outside, including an electrician. JS Electrical. I looked them up—Joe Smith.”

“Joe Smith is working on the development company’s renovations?” I ask, glancing at the door, ready to leave. Now.

“Wow,” says Leif. “You sure?”

“Yeah. And better than that, I’ve discovered another connection—the Brightgroves were once Circle members. They’re friends with the Whitegroves. Go back years.”

“Good grief!” I grab Rowan’s cheeks and kiss him hard on the mouth. “You’re amazing!”

Rowan smiles wryly. “The way to Violet Blackwood’s heart.”

“You should ask for a reward,” says Leif and snickers.

“I would be careful what you say,” I retort, and he holds his hands up, palms out, but his eyes glint. Shaking my head, I grab Rowan’s phone and swipe across the photos he took earlier.

“Dorian’s search missed something at that house,” I say, “the witches are tearing the place down for a reason.”

Chapter 40

VIOLET

A lane runs behind the witches’ property and renovations, alongside the fields towards the nearby modern housing estate. The narrow, unlit pathway offers a route for locals on the human estate to walk into town away from the busy roads or serves as a shortcut for kids headed to the bus stop.

What would be a busy route in the daytime becomes an unlit walk from town to the outskirts, and I doubt many hop over the stile between the meadow and the street-lit boxy homes across the way.

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