Page 7 of Live To Tell

“Yes, and Sienna's fine, thanks for asking.”

“I didn't ask.” Holly's eyes narrow. Oh. This again. “I am happy to hear Sienna’s suffering no ill effects and remains alive.”

“Luckily for you,” says Holly. “What is that tiara? Does it really belong to your family?”

Holly asked me this several times last night, albeit a little more hysterically. “I've a greater concern—where is the tiara?” I reply. “And why is my father not interfering yet? It's his favorite pastime.”

“Dorian might be distracted by the other things,” says Leif wearily. “The shifters and witches are more important than a 'haunted tiara'.”

And Josef. “Cursed. We need to stop people from calling it haunted.” I wrinkle my nose. “But you're right. The tiara hasn't killed anyone. I suppose this must become my investigation until I have a chance to speak to Dorian and request his help.”

“What if Madison was a witch… are there any records of the old academy pupils?” asks Holly. “Photographs?”

“Nothing online, and the librarian told us there're no records held in the library. Dorian’s council doesn’t have anything either—fire destroyed most Nightworld Academy documents or pictures,” says Rowan.

“There'll be records somewhere, surely,” says Holly.

“We have a name for the victim. We'll comb through supe registration documents held by the supernatural council since the Reveal,” I tell her. “Madison existed and likely was a supe.”

Holly falls quiet. “I really hope that she didn't die horribly.”

“I really hope that she's still alive,” says Leif and Rowan looks at him doubtfully. “What? Maybe Madison is out there and hidden?”

I sink back in my chair and cross my arms. “A vague possibility. Unfortunately, we can research everything we want, but until I have that tiara again, we'll get nowhere.”

Chapter 4

VIOLET

I barely notice the afternoon lesson end, lost in my own time and place, ignoring the students learning around me. Yes, I indicated that I intend to become a Thornwood pupil rather than just a resident, and so I'm in a classroom. But I've more important things on my mind than Chemistry/Potions lessons.

Such as the tiara.

The longer my father's people take to arrive and retrieve the item, the greater the chance it'll fall into the wrong hands again. Not human ones—I doubt another would touch ‘the haunted tiara’—but instead someone in the academy who's curious. Or even knows what spells and secrets cover the tiara.

Spells and secrets the tiara did not reveal to me or Rowan.

My distraction isn't helping me assist with Holly’s experiments, as I process the meeting with Mrs. Lorcan and my subsequent annoyed phone call with Dorian. He sees no urgency and refuses to rush over here or send his minions. Leif's correct—Dorian's focus is elsewhere.

Leif doesn't attend this class, and Rowan's focused on his work, including the 'more advanced tasks' he happily and smugly allows others to hear that he's performing. The humans grow small blue crystals on threads of cotton; Rowan transforms matter into precious gems.

Grayson's absent, not unusual, but there're few hemia around today, period. I must discover more gossip about last night's events. If Grayson involved himself in blood play, I do hope he was sensible. Something in his response to Holly revealing said gossip earlier had a double effect on me—confusion about why Grayson chose such risky behavior and an uncomfortable feeling spreading through my chest. Not because he took blood—if he did—but that his attitude in the library almost seemed as if he wanted a reaction from me.

Holly shoves a text book and pink notebook into her fancy black bag, in a rather violent fashion, then focuses on the zip without looking up.

“I detect you're annoyed with me still,” I say as she climbs from the stool.

She shakes curls from her face. “Not everything is about you, Violet. I've arranged to meet Marci and don't want to be late.” She pauses. “You could come too; I'm sure she'll be overjoyed to see you.”

That was a definite hint of sarcasm. I look to Rowan, still in conversation with Mr. Woodside. “Marci's absent from class? Therefore, she must remain upset about last night's events. Events I'm confused why you blame on me.”

“That wasn't an ordinary tiara, and you knew that. I thought you didn't waste time on people, yet you played a cruel trick,” she snaps. “Your behavior ruined the whole evening. Mrs. Lorcan shut down the dance.”

Well, this is quite vitriolic compared to our library meeting earlier. Is Marci feeding her these possibilities?

“Holly. You know me well enough. The chances I'd waste breath, let alone magic, on vapid human girls rank below zero.” I shake my head. “The incident that halted the dance was not my doing.”

“Hmm.” Holly hauls the bag onto one shoulder, dwarfing her diminutive figure. Then her lips press together, and eyes take on a recognizable weirdness—she's debating whether to tell me something.

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