Twinned Shadow (The Shadow Series Book 1)

by Candice Bundy

  Quinn chuckled under his breath. “What do you care?”

  Becka shrugged. She needed to be here, on so many levels today. Not only in remembrance of her sister, but also to give herself an excuse not to chat and to roll her options with Quinn over in her mind. Her stomach soured in anticipation. Perhaps if she could catch Brent and ask him to transport her home, then she’d foil Quinn’s plans? Assuming he had nefarious plans?

  “I am here for my sister,” she replied. “And I won’t likely get another opportunity to attend fae ritual after I leave here.”

  This reply appeared to mollify Quinn, as he turned his attention back to the gathering.

  A few more stragglers arrived at the glen. It wasn’t the entire crowd from the feast the evening before, but Becka recognized most of the faces even if she didn’t remember all of the names.

  A collective hush swept across the gathering as the first presenter raised her hand.

  “I studied with Tesse for a short time,” she said in clear, yet tremulous tones. “But she impressed upon me the importance of understanding the connections between us all. For what one person feels, we all hold the echo within us.”

  She moved her hand then as a conductor would before a band, but instead of music the trees, wildflowers, and grasses swayed in response to her movements. The effect was hypnotic.

  Becka tried to find the line between the illusionists magic and herself. She studied the plants under her feet. There was some downtrodden yarrow and grass underfoot, but none of that moved. Yet, within a foot of her shoes, the tiny undulation started, magnifying in intensity as Becka looked further from her body.

  How did the illusionists manage to blend the real with the creation so seamlessly? Becka would never know, as trade secrets were for initiates.

  Magic had never ceased to awe her, and yet, Becka had often wished to have been born into a house with a different gift than illusions. Hawthorne could control fire. Ash, water. Those within House Birch claimed great abilities within reproductive health, often doing their community service within city hospitals preventing infant mortality and birth complications. Those were no mere illusions, but instead saving and improving lives daily. Even Vott’s gifts from Air, being able to hear whispers of truth on the wind, were more useful than the illusionists.

  Although she could appreciate the cousin’s performance, none of it was real. What did it matter, in the end? In a few minutes the performance ended, a low murmur of appreciation taking the place of what humans would applaud. Perhaps she only felt this way because of being cast out, losing faith not just in Rowan but in the magic they wielded.

  Becka wanted to be somewhere else. Like, home, safe with her Aunt Lydia. Or at the Institute. researching for Dr. Traut. Somewhere without a mystery murderer. And emotional family drama. Becka doubted she’d brought along enough hot sauce for this trip.

  “This should be interesting,” Quinn whispered, startling Becka out of her reverie.

  She followed his nod and watched as her Aunt Astrid took the stage.

  “How is she the next in line?” Becka whispered. “Astrid is well beyond being a novice. Don’t they usually work their way up?”

  Quinn shrugged. “What do you think it means?”

  Astrid drew herself up to her full height. “Tesse was our most gifted student at House Rowan. Although I was one of her teachers, she taught me what remains one of my most loved transformations. I hope you enjoy this honoring of her inspiration.”

  Astrid stood on the boulder motionless save a single tear which ran down her cheek. She must have been very close to Tesse. The thought that Tesse’s teacher and mentor was also her friend comforted Becka.

  A light breeze kicked up in the glen, and along with it the threatening storm clouds of an impending headache.

  A woman next to Becka uttered a surprised gasp as she stared into the trees, and Becka followed her line of sight.

  “Can you even believe the perfection of the fragrance?” the woman exclaimed to everyone and no one. Becka hadn’t picked up on it yet.

  The trees all around them were suddenly covered in budding blossoms. At first, they were tight, purple pinpricks, but within moments the blossoms started to unfold. Moments later the fragrance of cherry blossoms intensified, as the trees appeared covered in a cotton candy of petals. The breeze, languid with the midday sun, caught a never-ending stream of petals from the branches and rained them down upon the crowd. Soon enough the forest floor was carpeted, and yet the branches showed no signs of depleting their burgeoning stores.

  Amazed by the all-encompassing nature of the illusion, it took a few minutes for Becka to notice something was off.

  There were no blossoms near her feet. They swirled around her, but never came into contact. Becka watched a pair of fae children, unruly despite the occasion, throw handfuls of blossoms as one might snowballs, with the recipient being dashed in the face by heaps of petals. Yet, when Becka reached out to grasp one, it drifted away.

  “What’s wrong?” Quinn asked. Becka noted his hair was dotted with petals.

  “Oh, I don’t think my Aunt Astrid likes me very much. That’s all.” Becka kicked her toe at some nearby blossoms and they swirled away, refusing her contact. She shrugged.

  “That’s unusually personal for an event such as this,” Quinn frowned. “But you did not have the best of interactions yesterday.”

  “You aren’t kidding.” Becka shifted on her feet, eager to be done with the event.

  “We fae can be petty. I would not concern yourself with it.”

  She didn’t want to admit to being hurt over the slight, instead choosing to shrug it off. “I’m not worried. Or even upset. I might be bored?” And disappointed over Astrid being petty, but she didn’t want to say that out loud.

  Becka glanced around her, turned, and threaded her way through the crowd back towards the house. She knew without looking Quinn would be close on her heels. No one paid her much mind, nor did anyone appear to notice or care about the trail devoid of blossoms she left in her path.

  No doubt they’d be on to the subsequent round of excitement soon enough, her exit forgotten with the next shiny bauble of amusement.

  Once they’d cleared the grove and walked along the empty path back to the manor, Quinn came up alongside her.

  “Where are we off to now?”

  “Maura recommended I see the showing of Tesse’s creations. I’m guessing the display will be pretty vacant right now.”

  “Likely the case. Do you want to talk about what’s been bugging you all morning on the way?”

  His direct question hit her in the gut. But what option did she have? She needed to know whether he was a threat. She needed to understand why he’d said what he did on the phone last night.

  She had not become a person who shied away from the truth. No, she sought the truth like a cat hunting mice.

  She shot him what must have been her hundredth side-eye of the day. “It’s just that, if I assume I’m in danger, then how do I know who’s safe to be around? How do I trust any of these fae I haven’t seen in nearly a decade?”

  “That is a fair question. It’s why I am here to watch over you.”

  Becka stopped in her tracks, turning to face him. “And how do I know you’re not the murderer?”

  Quinn chuckled, his broad smile unfairly radiant, considering her nerves. “I appreciate you considering all of the possibilities. It’s very detective-like.”

  She threw her hands up. “And?”

  The smile leaked out of his expression like a fizzled balloon, his confusion palpable. “Are you serious?”

  She nodded, steeling her nerves. “Yes. We’ve just met. I don’t know you and House Rowan doesn’t appear to trust you. Being my bodyguard would be a fantastic way to keep me close until you kill me.”

  He crossed his arms, resting his chin on his thumb, his brow arched with humor. “If that was my goal, then why are you still alive? Why not just kill you as soon as we crossed ove
r into fae territory?”

  “I have some theories. First, the Rowan were expecting me, which would have made it difficult to avoid questions. Second, killing me here would be a challenge as there are eyes everywhere. But if you wait for the trip back, no one will even notice. Aunt Lydia would, but that’s one fae to mollify, not dozens.” Becka tapped her foot, watching his face for a reaction, but he was cool as a cucumber. “But you’re supposed to answer questions here, not ask more.”

  The attempt at humor faded from his expression and hung somewhere around flummoxed. He cut his chin to the right, his indication of grudging agreement. “I am pointing out that I have had ample opportunity, and I am not lacking the skill necessary. If I wanted you dead, you would be dead by now.”

  A chill ran down her spine, but was it due to his mostly direct statement, or to the prospect of feeling particularly mortal?

  “So, I can trust you’re no threat to me?”

  “I am the last person you need to worry about, Becka. I would neither hurt you nor allow you to be hurt.”

  His unequivocal statement paired with the sincerity in his expression hit home for her. There was a touch of genuine, pained hurt in his gaze that cinched the deal. She sighed in relief, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She must not have understood his conversation with his boss in context? After all, she’d only heard one side.

  And she didn’t want to admit to eavesdropping now, either. Instead, Becka pivoted, pressing her luck. “Do you know why Tesse was killed?”

  “I told you the investigation has not turned up anything certain.”

  “Right, but do you know why she was killed?”

  He stepped in close to her, speaking softly. The telltale curl to his lip had returned, and damn him if she didn’t find it fetching. “Why are you so convinced I know the answer?”

  At that moment her Aunt Astrid came around the bend of the trail, descending upon them with a dark and stormy expression a hurricane would feel jealous of. Calder followed hot on her heels.

  Becka took a step back, steeling herself for the coming storm. “Why is this week just getting harder and harder?” she muttered.

  “You are the one who came back home,” he replied.

  Becka gasped. “I can’t even.”

  “Voluntarily, I might add,” he whispered, flashing her a quick smile. “I do not know what you were thinking.”

  Becka resisted the urge to smack Quinn on the shoulder. How could he infuriate and amuse her at the same time? It was unfair how easy it was to fall back into their pattern of facile banter when just last night she’d overheard him plotting on the phone. Yet he said he wasn’t a threat, she reminded herself, and he couldn’t lie. Unless that was a lie?

  Argh!

  A moment later, an irate Astrid and red-faced Calder caught up with them.

  Chapter 13

  “The last time we spoke I afforded you the benefit of the doubt. I thought, perhaps, she’s genuine. But I will play the fool no longer,” Astrid said. “Explain yourself.” Her expression was a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

  “What did I do?” Becka replied, rolling her eyes. “You’re the one who did it.”

  “Do not be ridiculous,” Calder replied. “I will not allow you to shift the blame away from yourself. It is clear you returned home looking for a bear to wrestle, but instead you are the bear lumbering around, causing a ruckus. What are you trying to prove?”

  Becka shot a look toward Quinn. He frowned at her, looking her up and down. What, did he doubt her now too? The utter irony of his doubt, after what she overheard last night, had her reeling.

  She took and held a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Becka refused to give in to the temptation to respond in temper, despite her frustration. She refused to give in to the fae predilection to dramatize every situation. Becka had moved beyond such behaviors when she’d moved beyond their territorial boundaries.

  She longed for her hot pepper sauce.

  “Can you slow things down for me, because I have no idea what you’re talking about? I left the glen when Astrid snubbed me with the flower trick. I’m sure everyone noticed how you wouldn’t allow the petals to touch me.”

  The sour look on Astrid’s face spoke volumes, as if she’d eaten something distasteful and couldn’t get the flavor out of her mouth. “Are you accusing me of lowering my observance of Tesse’s memory just to offend you?”

  “It was what I’d assumed in the moment, yes. If that’s not the case, then can you explain to me how the enchantment broke? I’m not a magic-pants like you all, remember? And I can’t imagine Quinn would do such a slight to Tesse’s memory either.”

  Everyone stared at her. Even Quinn this time, although he at least appeared surprised.

  “I’m serious. How? How would I even do that?” Becka asked.

  “There are ways,” Calder replied, tapping his index finger against his chin. “Humans do it all of the time. They hire a fae who provides a magical amulet or device, and then poof!” He splayed his fingers in the air, unintentionally reminding her of jazz hands. “You too can bend magical forces to your will.”

  “With what type of magic? And what motivation would I possess to ruin my twin’s funeral? She’s the only Rowan I gave a damn about. And how would I have arranged for something so specific at the last minute? Quinn can attest he picked me up an hour after I heard the news from Vott. I had no opportunity!”

  “I am not sure, but you could have had this tool at the ready for some time, awaiting the perfect opportunity to lash out at those who cast you out,” Astrid replied. “You say Tesse’s the only one you cared about. You appear to have cast off our ways and traditions.” She motioned to Becka’s informal clothes, pierced ears, and pink, unbraided hair. “Perhaps you have been biding your time to hurt the House of Mirrors?”

  “Okay, let's assume for a moment in your scenario that I’m out to harm Rowan or other fae and I have acquired a tool to do so. I mean, I gave up being bitter years ago. To be honest, it’s transformed into melancholy steeped in ennui.”

  All three of them stared at her in differing states of confusion. “But anyway, let’s assume for the sake of argument that I’ve got this vindictive bent. So far, what damage, besides offending you and degrading a couple of enchantments, have I managed?”

  “It is an odd form of attack, I grant you,” Astrid replied, appearing to be considering her words.

  “Perhaps she’s still testing the power of her weapon?” Calder asked, his tone unsure.

  “Wouldn’t I need some sort of tool, or trinket, to wield such power?” Becka asked. “Ask Quinn, he would have seen anything in use.”

  Astrid frowned in confusion. “I have been watching you and twice now I have observed magic degrade when you have come into contact with it.” She looked at Quinn. “As an Enforcer, have you witnessed any scrolls or amulets in her possession?”

  Quinn looked down at her, his expression grave. “I have not, and I have been alert for anything and everything unusual. I can assure you, if such item existed, I would have noticed.”

  Realization dawned on Becka; Quinn hadn’t just been protecting her. He’d also been investigating her. “I’m a touch appalled with you right now.”

  “As long as it is only a touch.” He winked. “I have explained to you it is standard procedure for Enforcers to consider all of the possibilities.”

  “Yet you also witnessed how the blossoms in the glen shied away from Becka?” Calder asked.

  “I don’t argue whether the event occurred, but I have no evidence as to the cause. Illusion magic is by design difficult to trace by the uninitiated. What I witnessed could have occurred by design, failure, or countermeasure. I don’t have enough information to know which.”

  Astrid raised her palm to Quinn, her expression grave. “I swear I did not cause the illusion’s effects to avoid or otherwise interact with Becka. I am unaware of the cause and affirm I had no part in it.”

  Qu
inn gave a single nod of his head. “Your statement has been noted. Do you have anything to share regarding the initial incident you claimed occurred upon Becka’s arrival at the manor?”

  “I witnessed a change in the funeral shroud of the house upon Becka’s crossing of the threshold.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  She pursed her lips, and Becka had the sense that she was debating how much to disclose. Astrid sighed. “I observed a ripple of force. A degradation of the magic’s effect. It was minor, and yet noticeable to those well versed in such illusions.” Quinn raised a brow, and Astrid shrugged. “I can not be more specific without revealing guild secrets or techniques.”

  Quinn nodded and then turned to Calder. “Do you have anything of substance to add?”

  Calder washed a hand over his face. He expelled a long breath, and then also raised a hand to give his testimony. “I do not trust Becka. Her demeanor at the feast showed a willful disregard of fae tradition. By her own words, she holds no Rowan in esteem.”

  Quinn shrugged. “Noted. Her lack of respect to her fellow fae is already something in my report, but her attitude alone does not mean she’s attacking fae.”

  “I’ll give you something to put in your report,” Becka muttered under her breath at Quinn.

  Calder pinned her with a steely gaze, nodding with conviction. “I have no specifics, but I am confident Becka is involved in these improprieties. Perhaps it is not something she is even aware of, but it is most definitely connected to her.” A look of revelation crossed his face. “Perhaps she is a mere pawn in all of this? Have you considered she might be cursed?”

  Quinn’s already tense frame stiffened, yet his expression remained neutral. “I am not aware of that suggestion being raised within the investigation. Just so I am clear, what type of curse do you suppose?”

  Calder drew himself up to his full height, his nose raised imperiously. “Well, I am no expert, but perhaps something to jinx other’s abilities? Or to steal and harness their magic?”