Spellbound After Midnight (Ever Dark, Ever Deadly Book 1)

by Jenna Collett

  “What did I tell you about rule number one?” He caught me staring, so I flicked my gaze back up to his. Derrick’s eyes darkened, tension coiling through his arms. More heat pooled through my limbs. I licked my dry lips and shifted beneath him. The movement evoked a low groan in the back of his throat.

  My breath caught. I wanted nothing more than to hear that sound again.

  “You’d better write down the rules if you expect me to remember them all.”

  “Rule number one.” His voice dipped an octave deeper, sending a shiver through my spine. “It’s dangerous to investigate alone.”

  “You’re right, I could have been killed by the cat. So dangerous.”

  He lifted his weight, and I instantly regretted my sarcastic response.

  Reaching for my hand, Derrick examined the scratch. A tiny rivulet of blood seeped from the edges. I sucked in a breath as he ran a feather-light touch along the broken skin.

  “Cats hate me. I know that goes against logic. They’re supposed to be a witch’s best friend, but every one I encounter wants to dig its claws into me. You should see my neighbor’s cat. I’ve tried everything. Leaving it fish, scratching behind his ear. I even tried casting a spell. That only made him mad. His eternal goal is to hiss at my grave.”

  Derrick sat up, taking me with him. “I’ll have him arrested.”

  I bit my cheek to contain a laugh. “You better be serious. It may be him or me one day. Don’t make me promises you don’t intend to keep.”

  A beat of silence passed. His gaze mimicked what mine had done, dropping to my lips. The air seemed to thin, and my lungs burned when his hand brushed against my waist. Barely conscious of my actions, I leaned closer, my eyes drifting closed.

  Immediately, Derrick pulled back, his expression switching to a mask of indifference. I nearly punched the mattress until I saw the tic in his jaw, signaling he wasn’t as unaffected as he tried to be.

  “I never make promises. Rule number four.”

  The whiplash of his emotions washed over me, and I crossed the room, taking a deep breath to calm my pounding heart.

  “Well, while you were upstairs following around Mrs. Lockwood and her clingy daughter, I stumbled across something.”

  The bed creaked as Derrick rose to his feet. His tone was all business again.

  “What did you find?”

  I pointed to the fireplace and the remnants of Ella’s letters. “Whatever they showed you upstairs, I wouldn’t believe it. I think this was Ella’s room, and I don’t think she was happy here. She might have even been afraid.”

  ***

  Olivia Lockwood toyed with the sleeve of her mourning gown. “It’s true, Ella wasn’t happy before her death. Her father contracted an illness after he returned from his last trip. It was a long and debilitating ailment that eventually claimed his life. We consulted with specialists, hoping to find a cure, but we were unsuccessful. After Maxwell’s death, we tried to help Ella cope, but she completely shut down and refused to sleep in the main part of the house.”

  I studied Ella’s stepmother from my seat near the window. Her red-rimmed eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Helen sat beside her mother’s elbow on the plush sofa, and Derrick remained standing, notebook in hand.

  “Do you know anything about the padlock I found in her drawer? Was there a reason she might need it?” I asked.

  Olivia wrinkled her brow. “I didn’t realize she had one. This is a safe neighborhood, and we’ve never had any trouble with the staff. I can only assume the lock was already in the room before she started using it.”

  Derrick tapped his pen against the page. “After Sir Lockwood’s death, how was the relationship between the three of you?”

  “Strained at best. It’s ironic now that I think about it, but I assumed the prince’s ball would bring us together.” Olivia smiled wistfully. “It was something to look forward to after so many months of sickness and mourning. But Ella refused to go.

  “Did either of you speak with her at the ball?”

  “No.” Olivia pressed a handkerchief to her trembling lips. “We didn’t know she was there until we saw her dancing with the prince. We lost her in the crowd, and a short while later, she was found in the courtyard. It was chaos, everyone terrified, pointing fingers. We were as shocked as anyone.”

  Derrick closed his notebook and placed it in his jacket pocket. “Thank you for your time, ladies. If we have any other questions, we’ll be in touch.”

  Mrs. Lockwood inclined her head as I passed by the sofa, but Helen wouldn’t meet my gaze. There was something about her that seemed off. A memory of shaking Ella’s hand made me pause.

  “That’s a lovely emerald ring, Helen. May I see it?”

  Helen pressed her lips together and lifted her hand, extending her fingers. I bent closer to touch her palm, faking interest in the ring. Her skin was smooth and callous-free, a stark difference from Ella’s hardworking hands. Turning her palm up, I noticed a two-inch gash starting at the base of her thumb and running to her wrist.

  “That looks painful. How did you get it?”

  Helen laughed and tried to tug her hand from my grasp. “I’m such a ninny. I was pruning flowers in the garden without wearing gloves, and the shears slipped.”

  Olivia patted her daughter’s knee. “Helen has a green thumb. There’s a small garden shed around back. You can go see it, if you’d like?”

  Helen smirked and indicated the scratch where the Lockwood cat had sunk its claws. “That’s a nasty gash you have yourself, Miss Daniels. You should put something on it, or it might fester. Infections can be deadly.”

  The way Helen eyed my wound spoke volumes. If it was up to her, I’d lose the hand.

  Derrick thanked them again and led me out of the house. He stood in the drive shaking his head.

  “What was that about?”

  “Did you see the injury on her hand? It’s suspicious, isn’t it? And her skin was smooth. Ella’s wasn’t. I thought Ella was a maid, not the daughter of a wealthy family. You should have seen the rags she had on. It doesn’t add up.” I chewed on the edge of my thumbnail.

  Derrick crossed his arms and gave me an odd look.

  “What? Why are you staring at me like I have two heads?”

  “It’s surprising.”

  “What is?”

  “You.” He took my good hand and walked off the path toward the side of the house. An overgrown trail of tangled vines and branches made it difficult to go any further, but from where we stood, I could see the roof of a small garden shed.

  Derrick gestured down the path. “Go on, this is your lead. I’ll let you have the honor of investigating it.”

  He had to be kidding. I took a cautious step back, and my foot sank into a pile of dry leaves.

  “What’s the matter? Where’s the intrepid witch determined to dive in and solve the case? I thought you wanted those fines removed?”

  He was baiting me, the wretch. I eyed the untamed foliage on the neglected path. It couldn’t hurt me. There probably weren’t any snakes in the overgrown grass. I swallowed. There better not be snakes.

  “You know, it’s not wise to taunt a witch.” I stomped past him, taking a face full of vines in the process. Spitting out a brittle leaf, I jerked an arm to untangle the vines pulling my hair.

  Derrick chuckled under his breath. I considered letting a branch snap back into his face but chose the high ground. For once.

  The path ended at the entrance to a squat, narrow building. All I needed to find was a single rose bush, and I could shove the clue in his face. Honestly, why people thought being a detective was so hard was beyond me—I’d been doing it for less than a week and already had a prime suspect. Imagining Helen behind bars, unable to bat her lashes at Derrick, played no part. Witch’s truth.

  I peered through the window pane, cupping my hands on either side of my head to block the light. Inside, chrysanthemums bloomed and ferns sprouted from ceramic pots. A pair of pruning shears rested
on the table, but besides containers of potting soil and a watering can, there wasn’t much else. There wasn’t any evidence of a rosebush, and none were planted in the adjacent garden. Deflated, I slumped against the wall.

  “Find any murder weapons? Should I have Helen arrested for not watering the plants enough?”

  I scowled. “Rule number three. Everyone and anyone is a suspect. You said so yourself, and that includes irritatingly perfect stepsisters.”

  “So, you do remember the rules.” He plucked a stray leaf from my hair. It was a casual gesture but it felt familiar, almost intimate.

  “Just the one.”

  “You did well back there. I should tell you, my men searched the garden shed days ago, and we noted Helen’s injury during her interview the night of the murder. But you asked the right questions.”

  “Were you testing me?”

  “Would it make you happy if you passed?”

  “It would.”

  Derrick tried to hide a smile. “Either way, thanks to your weird connection with a ghost, you discovered Ella slept in another wing of the house. The angle with her father is something I still have to delve into.”

  “We.” I poked him in the chest. “Something we have to delve into.”

  “All right, we.” He caught my hand and rubbed a thumb over the dark symbols. “I’m not saying I will start trusting in all of your mumbo jumbo—”

  “I think you mean magic, Detective.”

  “Sure, magic.” He examined the symbols, tracing their outline. “How does your link with Ella work?”

  “I’m not sure. This is the first time something like this has happened. The mark on my palm should have faded when the illusion did, but since she died while under my spell, we’re connected. Before she appeared, I experienced strange occurrences, chilled rooms, voices…”

  “You heard voices?”

  “Not like that, so forget about carting me off to the asylum, but it is strange how I was able to see her moving through the past.”

  Derrick looked grim, his features cut from stone. “They’re only visions, right? They can’t hurt you?”

  “I don’t think so. It doesn’t seem to be a physical connection.”

  “If that changes, this partnership is over.”

  I nudged him in the shoulder. “Is that what this is, Detective? A partnership?”

  He was still frowning, but some of the tension drained from his features. “I don’t know what this is, but like your connection with Ella, there’s a first time for everything.”

  I didn’t bother to deny the pleasure his words gave me. I had a partner. A reluctant one, but given time…

  “So, what’s next?”

  “Nothing. We’re done for today.” He left me leaning against the garden shed.

  I hurried after him, noticing he went in the opposite direction from the way we came. A direction that was vine and foliage-free. My jaw clenched. He would have known this way was easier if he’d had his men search the shed. I had a feeling he was waiting for me to complain, but I would not give him the satisfaction.

  He slowed so I could catch up. “I’ll be at the magic shop tomorrow afternoon. Be ready by six. We have an interview at the palace.”

  I nearly tripped over my feet. “Seriously? You’re taking me to the castle?” I picked a twig from my skirt and noticed a dark stain near the hemline. “What should I wear?”

  “Tessa, we’re going to visit a crime scene. Wear whatever.” He waved a hand dismissively.

  “Excuse me? Wear whatever?”

  Derrick sighed. “You look fine.”

  My mouth dropped open at his lackluster praise. “Fine? Everything is fine to you, isn’t it? Meat pies, a woman’s appearance, they’re the same thing. How charming. Hold on while I swoon from your compliments—wait…no. It went away.”

  He turned so fast, I collided with his chest. Clamping his hands around my forearms and tugging me closer, he dipped his head and spoke low in my ear.

  “Trust me, Tessa, you’ll know when I’m being charming.”

  I gave him a mock pout and patted his cheek. “I don’t think so, Detective, but good try. Take me home. I need to pick out an outfit.”

  Chapter 11

  “Nice dress.” Abrams gave me an encouraging smile from across the carriage.

  I surveyed my carefully selected royal blue tunic with its snug waist, custom leather belt, and fur-trimmed sleeves. “Yeah, it’s fine, I guess.”

  “I apologize again for showing up late. I know Detective Chambers was planning on picking you up at six. There was a situation at the agency. He’ll meet us at the castle.”

  Situation, huh? I refused to analyze my disappointment. It didn’t matter to me that Derrick had sent his rookie officer in his place, not one bit. Hand on a spell book and strike me down if I’m lying. I coughed and darted a look at the cloudless sky.

  The castle came into view, distracting me from further tempting the fates. Nestled among sloping hills and manicured gardens, the palace was the jewel of the kingdom. The setting sun bathed the bleached stone towers and ornate spires in an orange glow. On both sides of the winding drive stood giant topiaries sculpted into spirals. Lantern posts were spaced between them, already lit, illuminating the cobblestones.

  We came to a halt in front of a grand staircase. It was easy to imagine the night of the ball, with carriages lined up around the bend and guests in their finest attire ascending the marble steps. If I closed my eyes, I could almost hear the strains of the kingdom’s orchestra seeping through the ballroom windows, smell the savory delights, the fruity wine, and the expensive perfumes wafting through the air.

  “This is the ballroom entrance. It’s closest to the courtyard.” Abrams gestured for me to follow him down a long hallway lined with gold-framed paintings and elaborate wall sconces. My shoes clicked over the polished marble, the sound echoing into the vaulted ceiling.

  “The crime scene has been guarded around the clock since the night of the murder. We collected evidence, but the royal family wanted the area preserved. You’ll be doing a final walk-through before Detective Chambers releases the scene.”

  We came to a set of doors that opened into the courtyard. Abrams stopped to talk to a guard, while I stepped onto the stone path that led away from the castle. An eerie silence descended. It felt like hallowed ground. My shoes sank into the thick grass as I weaved through the rose bushes and marble statues. Even the fountain in the distance remained silent, its waters tranquil and unmoving.

  I walked toward the fountain. It was much larger than I’d expected, more of a circular wading pool. In the center was a tiered statue where streams trickled and poured into the basin. The water was dark, maybe three to four feet deep, surrounded by a stone barrier. I noticed a single rose petal floating on the surface and watched it ebb and flow almost in a trance.

  When my fingers brushed over the stone boundary, I felt a jolt through my hand. The symbols on my palm pulsated, and a familiar wave of dizziness crashed through me. Not again. Around me, the courtyard faded. I squinted against the gloom. What was happening?

  With murky water covering my face and body, the only light came from the ripple of the moon penetrating the water’s surface. A weight pressed on my shoulders. Powerful hands held me under as air bubbles escaped my lips, replaced by the tang of icy water. I watched the bubbles rise, helpless to follow.

  Can’t breathe…It hurts.

  My lungs burned like a fire inside my chest. Frantic, I splayed my fingers along the silty bottom, looking for leverage. Pebbles scrapped my palms, and weeds slithered against my skin. The last breath in my body withered away. I struggled beneath the firm grip, choking, desperate to reach the surface.

  Panic surged. I inhaled water instead of air. The thrashing stilled along with my movements. My eyes were open to the pale moonlight that grew darker and darker. The weight was gone, but I remained at the bottom, looking up.

  Forever.

  “No!”

/>   I fell to my knees in the grass, gulping in rapid bursts of air. The courtyard came back into focus as I tried to calm my pounding heart, its rhythmic thump echoing in my ears. What a horrible vision. It had felt so real. The pain in my palm faded, and I braced myself against the fountain to stand. Had I just witnessed Ella’s final moments? Abrams was still talking to the guard, oblivious to my turmoil. I sat on the stone wall and closed my eyes, taking in deep, soothing breaths of air. This symbol vision thing was starting to get ridiculous. Vivian had never mentioned experiencing a ghost’s memories.

  A rustling jolted my eyes open. It was coming from a tall hedge that lined the courtyard. A stick cracked under a boot—someone was positioned on the other side. I inched closer and bent to look through a small opening in the hedge, finding a pair of ink-colored eyes staring back. The man had an angular face and a sharp nose, a curl of sandy brown hair covering his left brow. He watched me for an airless moment, then lifted a gloved finger to his lips.

  “I’ll find you,” he rasped before vanishing from the opening.

  I ran the length of the hedge and rounded the corner. The man was gone. Trees and shrubs formed a dense cover, and the fading light created pockets of darkness, a perfect setting to hide his escape. Searching the foliage for any sign of movement, his words echoed in my ears.

  I’ll find you.

  Not the most comforting phrase from a stranger loitering around a crime scene.

  “Tessa?” The deep, flinty sound of my name broke through my thoughts. I almost ducked behind the hedge. Derrick didn’t sound pleased, and he’d be less so if he caught me wandering on my own for the second time. Damn him and his stupid rules.

  He called my name again, and this time, I heard the hint of alarm. I remembered the look of concern in his eyes when he’d asked about my visions. That look had unnerved me in ways I didn’t want to identify. I’d have to tread lightly. Telling him about my vivid death hallucinations and a suspicious man’s threat to “find” me was bound to get me sidelined and thrown back on boring interview duty.