Poisoned Shadow: An Urban Fantasy Supernatural Detective Mystery (The Shadow Series Book 2)

by Candice Bundy

  She hesitated for only a moment. “Maura thinks you might be an informant, I would assume to the Enforcers’ Guild about private House Rowan affairs?”

  Becka looked to Saige to confirm, and she gave Becka another quick nod.

  “Clever toy you have there. I wouldn’t trust it.” Saige wandered off towards the door where Luce was standing.

  Quinn sat back on the sofa while Becka grabbed another brownie. She took a small bite, but her stomach had soured, and the brownie suddenly tasted too rich. She took her plate and placed it on her bedside table. After wiping her hands thoroughly with a napkin, Becka ran her fingers through her damp hair, working out the tangles.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me if Maura’s concerns are valid?” Quinn asked.

  “No, I’m not. I know you’re here working the investigation and I’m not concerned about your intentions otherwise. I trust you.”

  Quinn held her gaze for a few moments. She knew he had a reputation for holding his loyalty as an enforcer above the interests of the fae, but he’d proven himself to her. Maura could think what she wanted.

  “Wait a moment,” Becka said. “How is your investigation going?”

  He wobbled his head from side to side. “It’s been challenging working under the duchess’ guidelines.”

  “So she thinks you’re an informant, and has put limitations on you?” He nodded. “Which means what specifically?”

  “I am accompanied by two fae guards who report my activities back to Maura. I’m limited in not only who I can question but am also only allowed to question with a council member present. Unfortunately, they are often not available. I’ve been relying on Brent and his team for assistance, but I’m not making a ton of headway.”

  “Let’s speak with her together tomorrow,” Becka replied. “I know she wants the poisoner found. There’s got to be a middle ground.”

  “That might help,” he replied. “Thank you. While I assume you’re mulling over all the reasons you don’t agree with Maura about me, keep in mind this revelation came from a source whose motivations we do not understand.”

  Squiggles continued to wander around the book’s pages. “What could it gain by revealing honest answers to questions? I mean, what’s the point?”

  “First, it only works for you, a fae with a powerful gift and also the first of your gift’s lineage.”

  “You’re saying this was created with me in mind? But, it’s really old. Look at the aging of the pages!”

  “Okay, possibly just for someone like you. Second, the most skilled liars deceive using selected components of the truth, omitting facts to sway you to their perspective. In other words, just because the book is sharing truth with you doesn’t mean it’s the full story or that you know its motivations for sharing,” Quinn replied.

  “You’re saying it thinks and has motivations?” Becka asked.

  He shrugged. “You can’t know.”

  She gazed at the tome, wondering if it was a boon or a venomous snake. How could she know? And what damage could the book do by answering questions truthfully?

  “If you don’t mind, I need to step outside and give Chief Elowen a call.” He stood up, pulling his phone from a jacket pocket. “I’d like her to know what we’ve discovered about the book and see if she can get a couple of agents to research the mechanism.”

  “By all means,” she replied.

  He walked out the door to her balcony, a gust of crisp night air sweeping into the room with his passing. She heard Quinn’s voice on the phone, the low tones carrying indistinctly through the open door.

  Lost in her reverie at the book, Becka didn’t notice the faint knock on her bedroom door nor the young fae clearing their dishes until the girl swept near her bed and cleared her plate from her nightstand. She murmured out a quick thanks, but the youth was well on her way out and didn’t acknowledge her.

  Becka’s attention was rapt with the moving patterns upon the pages of the open Shadow-Dweller book.

  She took a drink of water, but the sour taste in her mouth wouldn’t go away. Her mind kept lingering on the day’s events, specifically when she’d been deposited into Hanna’s lap. How bad would the fallout with House Hawthorne become? When Quinn was here, she’d been distracted, but with him gone the doubts, fears, and pain had returned.

  Her heart ached. Her stomach ached. Her mind ached.

  She leaned back against her pillows and groaned, reaching for her glass of water. Next to it sat a small bowl of butter mints in the center of the nightstand. Perhaps one could ease her stomach, or at the least, dispel the foul taste of bile in her mouth for a time?

  Becka popped a single mint into her mouth, the clean, bright flavor of spearmint washing down her throat.

  A heartbeat, perhaps two, passed. A distinctive and all-too-familiar counterpoint to the mint kicked into her senses.

  Instinctively, Becka threw herself across the bed and spat the mint onto the floor. It came out as a gummy slurry. She grabbed for her water glass, pouring water into her mouth as fast as she could spit it out.

  She wasn’t fast enough.

  The glass fell from her hand, hitting the carpet and somehow bouncing instead of shattering. Her center of gravity shifted a moment later, and she tumbled out of bed, hearing her head hit the floor with a loud thump.

  Voices bellowed. Feet pounded. Something, someone, rolled Becka onto her side and lifted her up. Her head rolled against a familiar shoulder. A familiar scent filled her nose, one she’d recognize anywhere. Surely Maura wouldn’t approve of this intimate moment?

  “Quinn,” she whispered.

  “Run ahead to Illan,” Quinn said to someone.

  “Hold on, sugar,” he said, his voice cracking.

  Now she felt him running, her body rocking against his, step by step.

  And then she felt nothing at all.

  Chapter 19

  Hours later, Becka lay on a cot at the infirmary, shivering as sweat poured off her body. Something cool pressed down on her forehead, and the cool night air moved over her, a welcome chill against her heated skin.

  She looked around the room, which was dim, lit only by a few candles. Quinn sat beside her, his hand on the cool compress over her head.

  “Where is everyone?” Becka croaked, her voice rough from hours of retching.

  “Brent is meeting with his staff, doing a top-down room-by-room search of the entire manor. He left you under my protection.”

  “Can I have some water?” she whispered.

  He picked up a cup from the bedside table. “Just a sip. Illan warned you to take it slow.” Quinn helped her sit up, and then she took a small sip of water. Then another.

  “I don’t even remember last night,” she said. “I remember you running me here and then throwing up for what felt like hours. Didn’t Illan give me a shot or something?”

  Quinn nodded, dabbing at her forehead again with the damp cloth. “After the last time, the enforcers stocked your infirmary with a couple of poison treatments. Specialty items we have access to.”

  “Lucky for me you did.”

  His furrowed brow was marked with shadows in the dim light. “Luck had nothing to do with it. I figured that until we caught the poisoner, another incident was inevitable.”

  Becka thought about that for a few minutes, grateful for his forethought and yet terrified for her future. If they couldn’t catch the poisoner, how long before it would happen again? What if she wasn’t as lucky the next time? Would she end up in a coma like Vott? Or dead, like her sister?

  She couldn’t just wait and hope for the best. Becka needed to join in the investigation. But not right now. Now she needed to rest.

  Quinn ran a hand down her arm, his grip comforting. “I have some ideas for other things to try. Ways to keep you safer.”

  She sighed, grateful for his reassuring touch. “Whatever you think best.”

  “What, something Becka of House Rowan won’t argue with me about?” He smiled, but it didn�
�t reach his eyes, which appeared anxious and sleep deprived. “That’s a miracle, but I’ll take it.”

  Fear gripped her, her chest tight, making it difficult to breathe. “Don’t you worry, I’ll get my spunk back soon enough,” she said, forcing a smile, knowing the alternative was too dark. Becka was glad for the distraction of his presence. “Wait a second. I remember something. Did you call me sugar?”

  “Certainly not.” He shook his head. “The impropriety! Whatever would Duchess Maura say?”

  “Uh huh,” she replied. “I mean, if you had, I don’t think I’d mind it.”

  “I’ll make a note of it,” he replied, gripping her hands in his own.

  A cool night breeze blew in through the open windows, causing the candles to flicker. The fresh air was a needed distraction from the aching in her body. In the distance, a lone owl hooted softly, distinctive against the quiet of the night.

  Becka groaned. “I can’t believe I ate that mint. It was so thoughtless of me. It was as if they appeared out of thin air.”

  “Except they didn’t. They were put there specifically for you.”

  “Have you figured out if the girl brought them?” she asked, unable to wrap her mind around the possibility of a child poisoning her. What was this world she was living in?

  “Yes, her name is Sorrel. She’s a niece of Astrid’s by marriage. I questioned her a few hours ago. All she seems to know is that they placed the mints on her platter to be left with you when she cleaned up the dishes in your room. There were dozens of those bowls of mints in the kitchen. None of the others had poison in them. Brent did exhaustive checks, including the mints that had been sent out to other rooms already.”

  “I can’t imagine the girl is to blame. I don’t even know her.” She reached for the cup of water, which Quinn refilled and then handed back to her. The chilled liquid cooled the burning in her throat. She sipped slowly to make the sensation linger.

  “We agree. Someone must have tainted just the ones in your bowl, knowing Sorrel was going directly to your room. Sorrel remembers passing a few people in the hall, but none of their behaviors stood out to her. Brent is questioning everyone the girl remembers.”

  Becka handed back the empty cup. “I am so over this crap, Quinn.”

  He set the cup on the bedside table, his expression stormy. “You aren’t the only one.”

  She stretched, acutely aware of the sore and strained muscles lining her torso and stomach. “Let me know what you hear.” Becka’s lids fluttered as she struggled to keep them open. “Every time this poisoner acts, they risk exposure. Their luck will run out,” she reasoned. But was she trying to reassure Quinn, herself, or both?

  He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “Get some sleep. If we learn anything, I’ll wake you.”

  “You’re staying?” she whispered.

  “Nothing could make me leave your side,” he replied, his voice uncharacteristically thick with emotion.

  Becka reached for his hand and sighed when he took her hand in his own, gently massaging her palm. In the dim candlelight, his eyes appeared to glisten. Or was that just her imagination?

  No. The intensity of his gaze and raw emotion creasing his face hit her in the solar plexus. She’d almost died. Again. So much for the safety of being home again.

  Becka’s eyelids fluttered as she fought to stay awake. “I don’t know why you’re safe for me to touch,” she mumbled. “But I’m grateful.”

  Quinn gripped her hand. “Always be thankful for small graces.”

  Becka meant to agree, but sleep pulled her down into its depths once more.

  Morning had returned and along with it, a trio of disapproving frowns. Brent, Quinn, and the healer stood around her bedside watching her like hawks.

  “Why is everyone just standing around?” Becka croaked out, her throat dry.

  Illan held out a cup of water, which she took and sipped. “Thanks. Where are my clothes?”

  Their frowns deepened.

  “I’d like you to stay for observation another day,” Illan replied.

  Becka pushed herself up on her own as the three men frowned even more. Their looks of incredulity to each other and shared shrugs didn’t dissuade her.

  “Clothes. Now,” Becka said.

  Because of Becka’s insistence that she get up, dress, and go back to her life, they handed her clothes to wear. When she dressed and then made it clear she planned to leave the infirmary, that’s when the scowls started.

  “I would truly prefer you stay the day,” Illan said. “I know you’re feeling improved, but why not rest today? Why risk pushing yourself?”

  “Sure, I’m tired, but otherwise I’m okay. You said there’s nothing more you can do for me here. You injected me with all of those treatments, and they worked. Now, since I’m stable, I’m leaving. I need to see Maura and I will not give my attacker the satisfaction of seeing me appear weak.”

  Illan smiled. “You’re more like your mother than I realized.”

  Becka offered a side-eyed glare to the healer. Sure, she knew Maura was iron-willed, sometimes to a fault. It was certainly a trait Becka didn’t mind having in common with her mother. “Wait a second. Are you comparing me to Maura to try and keep me from leaving? Do you think that’ll work on me?”

  His suddenly blank face and rounded eyes confirmed her suspicions.

  “Nice try, healer. Trust me, when I start to feel tired, I’ll kick my feet up and take a nap.” Becka walked toward the door, blocked by Brent. “You think you can keep me penned in?”

  “Yes,” Brent said, “if we choose to do so.”

  “Do you somehow think me staying in a small room makes me any safer?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Brent replied. “If you’re only exposed to vetted contacts, then I am confident we can minimize or eliminate the threats.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Becka sat on the edge of the bed. “The person who’s after me has made it clear, with Vott’s poisoning, that they’re fine if those close to me are hurt too. The same goes for this attempt. Anyone else in the room could have eaten those butter mints instead of me. If you lock me in a room, it endangers whoever is in there with me.”

  “I’m not sure I agree, but what would you have us do?” Quinn asked.

  “I need to appear strong while the investigation continues. And for that to happen, we need to go and see Maura. Now.” She pointed at Quinn and Brent.

  “You want to talk to Maura right now?” Brent asked.

  “Yes, right now.” She stood up, fatigue multiplying the required effort, but she wasn’t about to back down. “And the two of you are coming with me. Let’s go.”

  Brent sighed and shook his head. “Lead on, Lady Becka.”

  Chapter 20

  Calder stood between her and the door to the council chambers, looking taken aback by her very presence. He blinked as if he’d seen a ghost.

  Becka squared her shoulders and walked right up to him, bracing for a showdown. Knowing Quinn and Brent were behind her helped her confidence, which was shaken after yesterday’s repeat poisoning.

  Well, she was mostly ready. If she had to remain standing much longer, Becka might have to lean on the wall to pull it off.

  “Sister Becka!” he exclaimed. “I assumed you would still be recuperating in the infirmary.” He shook his head, looking her up and down. “You appear a tad pale. How are you faring?”

  “I’m pushing through,” she replied, unable to keep the sharp edge out of her voice. Calder remained a prime suspect in her poisonings, although only because of the potential motive of jealousy over her return to status as the heir. “And still alive, despite certain efforts to the contrary.”

  “I’m grateful to hear you’re recovering, again.” He offered her his arm, his expression a mixture of anger and concern. “May I assist you to your chair?”

  It took Becka a moment to process his statement, long enough that he raised a brow, and damn if he wasn’t about to repeat the
question for her.

  “Uh, sure. Thanks?” She threaded her arm through his, leaning into him. “I’m surprised to hear you upset. I haven’t exactly been on your list of favorite people.”

  He paused for a moment. “Whoever harms you also attacks House Rowan.”

  Becka barked out a short, hoarse laugh. “I didn’t think you liked me. At all.”

  A slight smile curved his lips, and he blew out a breath before answering. “Pardon, but I can’t say as I do. Your years living outside of these walls have changed you, not necessarily for the better. But you are family. What kind of monster would I be to not accept you, or at the very least, have your back, despite your flaws?”

  He appeared genuinely concerned for her safety. Perhaps she’d been too quick to name Calder as a suspect? Either his show of concern was a very good act designed to put her off the scent, or he was innocent.

  Becka sighed. Nope, she still didn’t trust him.

  “Your candor is, as always, refreshing, Calder.”

  They walked into the room, arm in arm. Everyone else was already there and there was a collective double-take of initial confusion, followed by smiles. Elder Eirian gave her an approving nod, most likely for powering through and showing up. Lady Wynne smiled; did she even like her, or was she just happy to see Calder and her getting along better? Lord Cedric’s astute gaze narrowed on Becka, and she raised a single brow.

  Maura’s reaction was inscrutable to Becka, as she appeared to have no reaction, while Astrid raised her chin and gave a single nod of encouragement.

  When Quinn and Brent followed her into the room, the collective gazes turned sour and conversations were brought to a halt.

  “Unannounced visitors is not our standard protocol, Becka,” Duchess Maura said, greeting the newcomers to her council chambers with an imperious frown. “This chamber is for council members and their invited guests only.”