Page 23 of Live To Tell

“Dorian will investigate the incident. He’ll come to the academy and retrieve the tiara,” says Violet simply. “And question the librarian and Mrs. Lorcan.”

“You sound confident,” I comment. “I still reckon he won’t bother. The tiara showed nothing when his people and you studied the thing before the human wore it.”

“That is exactly the point,” says Violet. “Everything has energy holding snapshots of the past. The tiara had none because they’re blocked and now they may not be. Without finding those snapshots, Dorian has a piece missing from his investigations. I am certain he’ll take back the item and we shall break the spell.”

“And the stolen potion?” asks Rowan.

“Oh, yes. I’m sure that will be of great interest to him and my mother.” Violet smiles. “Mrs. Eldridge will soon wish she hadn’t interfered last night.”

Chapter 8

ROWAN

I’m not surprised that Mrs. Lorcan summons me and Violet to her office today, but I am surprised that the librarian isn’t present—or Dorian.

Although the tiara is, placed in the center of the headmistress’s desk, beside a pile of books, the spiked silver object jeweled with oval amethyst gems unmistakable. Violet’s barely in the room before she darts over and reaches out, but I catch her hand before inclining my head to the left.

The mantle surrounding the fireplace fascinated me when I arrived as a young kid—I’d seen gargoyles on human buildings, but her ugly carved creatures, watchful either side of the fire, look like deformed cats. Even though we’re well into spring, the warm weather doesn’t extend inside the academy’s thick stone walls. Humans especially whine about the cold and lack of heating; I’m just surprised a vampire even has a fire.

Today, the ugly carvings aren’t the most unusual thing by the fireplace. There’s a man partially out of sight due to the open door, as silent and watchful as the gargoyles. He’s around my grandfather’s age, with thinning white hair and dressed in a dark-gray suit, reflecting the show of prestige and wealth many seem to think a tailored suit gives them. Just look at Sawyer and Josef. Always in their suits.

The man’s cologne smells strongly of fennel and aniseed, but that isn’t enough to drown out his magic aura as he regards us through sharp green eyes.

I dart a look around the room. Definitely nobody else but us.

“My tiara’s no longer ‘secured’, I see,” says Violet coolly.

“Your tiara?” The man’s plummy voice holds a haughty disdain, one of someone who commands respect from most. Hopefully Violet figures this should include her. “I’ve come to retrieve my family’s possession.”

“Oh?” asks Violet. “And what family would you be?”

“I am Cornelius Whitegrove.”

Both my brows raise. Two witch families lead the Circle—Whitegrove and Summerdown. They’re not important in witch magic hierarchy but are famed for hanging onto and building their wealth, hence their position in the Circle. I’ve never met anybody from either family—my parents are only interested in those whose magic interests them.

“It would seem you lied, Violet,” says Mrs. Lorcan. “The tiara is not a Thornbrook or Blackwood possession.”

“I would like to know where you stole the item from,” continues Whitegrove. “Because I need to know who originally stole this from me.”

The room spins for a moment as if I’m on the edge of passing out until Violet grabs my fingers and her magic pulls up a wall to protect my mind. “Please keep out of my friend’s mind. That’s illegal, Mr. Whitegrove.”

“As is theft.”

“Me and Violet researched the tiara and never found any record of the item—no images and definitely nothing linked to your name,” I put in.

Whitegrove looks down his narrow nose at me. “Rowan Willowbrook?” I nod, but the edge to his tone unsettles me. “I could show you family albums, as I have Mrs. Lorcan.” He steps forward to pass Violet, but she doesn’t move, arms behind her back as she studies him. “Excuse me, young lady.”

Violet snatches the tiara before he can. “What’s the spell attached that hurt the human girl?”

Whitegrove’s jaw hardens, and he scratches a cheek with neatly manicured fingers. “As with many witch heirlooms, the item is enchanted to prevent interference. Pretty and expensive items attract the magpie-like humans, and we ensured the tiara would repel them.”

“Repel? Sienna thought the tiara had bound itself to her head,” I retort. “I'd say that's quite the opposite.”

He flicks a look at me. “The girl is unlikely to touch the tiara again, and neither would her human friends. Therefore, yes, repelled.”

I look to Violet. Do we mention the other events that night? Mrs. Lorcan likely told him about the blood smeared words and the ‘possession’. If not, social media did.

“Rather an extreme spell,” says Violet. “Sienna’s traumatized.”

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