Astrid arched a doubtful brow at Calder, but didn’t interrupt him.
“Steal it for what purpose?” Quinn asked.
Calder inhaled sharply, stiffening his posture. “I assure you, I am not devious enough to suppose an answer.”
“That’s okay,” Becka replied. “For what it’s worth, I prefer being cast as the devious mastermind over the powerless pawn.”
“Thank you for your statements and suggestions,” Quinn said to Astrid and Calder, ignoring Becka’s sniping. “I will make sure to include them in my report. Now, if you could excuse me.” He turned, took Becka by the elbow, and strode off down the path back towards the manor house, guiding her along beside him.
Becka experienced a confusing mixture of feelings. She was indignant over being hauled off by the handsome, yet burly warrior. She was also impressed and, if she had to admit it to herself, a wee bit turned on, both by his effortless command of the situation and his composure during the accusations. However, her anxiety over Quinn’s intentions had continued to amplify over the course of the day. She felt not much closer to understanding his motivations.
“Please, Quinn, let me go. I can walk fine on my own, you know.”
He hesitated a moment and paused. Quinn released her arm, frowned, and then motioned to the path ahead of them. Becka moved along, Quinn matching her stride.
“Apologies, Becka. I figured they would back down if I took visible charge of the situation.”
It wasn’t the response she’d expected. He’d been putting on a show of force?
“Are you going to put that in your report on me too?”
“You are shocked by the idea that I am keeping a file on you?” He laughed, but it was a gentle sound. “I am a detective. What did you expect?”
“I mean, I know you are. I just assumed I would be a suspect in Tesse’s death too.”
“You are family. Family are always the first suspects.”
Becka smiled a half-hearted smile. “I know that’s true, but it’s still a bit dark.”
“That’s reality for you. So, where are we off to?”
“The inquisition chambers for the scheduled afternoon torture confession?”
Quinn looked at her askance. “That is not a room I expected to have in House Rowan.”
“No, goof. I figured you’d be sitting me down for a formal questioning to answer Astrid’s charges?”
“No point. Words can mislead. I prefer to watch your actions. Actions never lie.”
Becka considered the truthfulness of that statement. Perhaps she’d do well to hold him to the same standard.
“Well then, if you don’t have other plans, I’d like to visit my sister and pay my respects. And then I’d like to go home.”
It was Quinn’s turn to side-eye her, but then he nodded. “Lead on.”
Chapter 14
When the sentinels standing guard at the entrance to the viewing hall allowed her to pass without question, Becka hurried to enter before they changed their minds.
“People usually rush to exit a viewing, not the other way around,” Quinn said.
“I didn’t want them to remember who I was and then exclude me.” To Becka’s amazement, her lingering headache had faded away. The mercurial pattern of its triggers had never been clear to her.
Becka had attended funerary viewings only a couple of times in her life, the last about a year before being outcast. Each was unique and customized to honor the departed.
She didn’t want to be here, but she couldn’t have closure without saying a final goodbye.
This rock-hewn lined chamber was draped with a series of sunset shaded semi-sheer curtains, the effect one of walking through a maze of burnt umber at dusk. No doubt this theme was chosen to honor Tesse by using her favorite color palette. The brief journey into the room served as an opportunity for the viewer to mentally prepare themselves to say a final goodbye to the departed. Freshly laid orange rose petals crushed under their shoes, and smoke from incense hung in the air. Becka recognized the scent as a combination of fir, wild garlic, juniper, and thyme.
“Are you worried there might be someone hiding behind the sheers?”
Quinn shook his head. “I am not worried. It’s a possibility I considered as we entered and I am prepared.”
“Family and friends wouldn’t disturb Tesse with any drama.”
“I sincerely doubt whoever killed your sister would care about desecrating her viewing chamber.”
He had a point. Taking another look through the room and recognizing how little she could see through the curtains, Becka felt a chill run down her back. Although she didn’t fully trust Quinn, she believed he’d protect her from an attacker.
What if Quinn became the attacker? She still had no idea what the conversation she’d overheard last night meant, and she felt too guilty for eavesdropping to ask. He certainly hadn’t been acting today like someone planning her demise.
They reached the center of the chamber where Tesse laid in state upon a raised quartz plinth. A sheer orange shroud draped her supine form, muting the details to passing eyes. And yet Becka recognized every element, from her long, straight plaited hair, to the proportions and length of her body, to the angle of her feet and the way her toes tented the fabric. Her torso, hips, and legs were wrapped with a silvered gauze.
A strategic swath of silvered fabric laid over the shroud, covering Tesse’s neck and shoulders.
No doubt when the time came to ritually release her, they’d carry her out to the grove of aspen and hold her pyre there.
Becka was here now, gazing down at her mirror image. Her twin.
They say it’s difficult for a parent to manage after the passing of a child. A part of them lost, gone forever, with an open wound remaining forevermore.
But to lose a twin felt like losing half of herself. Her identity had splintered, a shattered fragment of what she’d always known to be true.
Becka wondered if the shattered husk within her chest would ever heal back into a heart again. She knew she’d never be the same. In truth, she wasn’t ready to heal. Healing would mean she’d moved on and accepted Tesse’s death. She couldn’t do that, not yet.
Needing to understand, to fully grasp what Tesse had experienced, Becka reached for the slip of silvered fabric strategically covering Tesse’s throat and shoulders. Even through the barrier of the fabric, her sister’s flesh was stiff and cool to her touch.
Quinn’s hand was on her own in a heartbeat, stilling her motion. “You should not…” his voice drifted off.
“It’s not your place,” she replied and then waited for him to relent.
He removed his hand, reluctance warring with pain in his expression. “It’s not how you should remember her.”
“Again, it’s not up to you.”
Becka pulled the fabric and it slid off like a quicksilver onto the floor. Her gut processed what she saw faster than her mind, and Becka had to turn away as her stomach emptied its contents.
Quinn, ever the warrior-gentleman, offered her a handkerchief.
Becka wiped her face. “You seem to have a pocket for everything.”
“I come fully equipped.”
Becka stared at him and then rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”
“The levity seemed appropriate.” He kicked a few layers of dirt over her vomit, immediately reducing the sharp smell in the air.
Becka huffed. “Did you know?” She motioned to the wreck of Tesse’s neck.
“Of course. I am a part of the investigation. Although I have just seen pictures. This is the first time in person.”
Becka stepped back to her sister’s side. The horror of the damage wouldn’t process. It was as if her mind was rejecting it, as if denying it would somehow retroactively prevent her sister’s passing, mend the skin back together, and breathe life once more into her empty husk.
“What happened to her skin?” Becka pointed to Tesse’s neck where it appeared to have been shredded by sharp, long c
laws. Dark markings on her flesh blurred the distinction between the ragged edges of the remaining skin and the muscle and bone underneath. “Was it there before the attack, or as part of it?”
Quinn tilted his head. “Can you be more specific?”
“I don’t mean the slashing and flayed bits. Tell me what you know about the black symbols.”
Quinn’s expression shifted to one of peaked curiosity. He pulled out a flashlight and aimed it at Tesse, leaning in for a better look. “What do you mean?”
Becka sighed. “I wasn’t aware she had a tattoo. It seems like something she would have mentioned to me?”
She leaned in closer, curiosity overcoming her revulsion over the wound. “It’s too bad the attack destroyed the central part of the image. All that’s left are those wisps of curlicues. Like words in cursive, but overlaid. I can’t make it out.” She swayed, unsteady on her feet and still woozy from her earlier retching.
Quinn looked up from the body and fished around in his jacket for a moment. He then placed his hand on her elbow and held out a notepad and pencil with the other hand. “Could you sketch them for me?”
Becka rounded on him, pushing the paper away. “Why would you even ask that? I’m here, grieving my sister! Besides I’m sure your crack investigative Enforcer team has this well documented already.”
He raised the pad of paper to her, undeterred. “It is not, so I am going to need your assistance.”
“Huh? You’ve got to have plenty of pictures.”
“There are no pictures or drawings of what you describe that I am aware of.”
“Why not?”
“Becka, I cannot see the marks you see. And from the documentation I have reviewed on this case, no one else does either.”
Becka gaped. She glanced again at the markings. Was she, in her grief, imagining them?
“You really can’t see it?”
Quinn shook his head. His curiosity had peaked into a level of rapt excitement. His eyes determined; his posture tense. Since they’d met, he’d never looked more fully the role of detective.
She pointed at the largest intact area, directly underneath Tesse’s chin. “It’s right here.”
Quinn again made an effort. He pulled back the sheer draping from Tesse’s head and shoulders, got out a small flashlight, and then leaned in close.
He played the light across her flayed flesh, his brow furrowed. He extended the notepad to her again, but now it was open to a fresh page. “If you would be so kind.”
Confused, Becka accepted the notepad and pencil. “I’m not particularly artistic.”
“Use all of the pages you need. Just point to where I should direct the light.”
Becka drew a series of sketches, feeling unable to fully capture the imagery in any one scene. She had Quinn adjust the flashlight between each picture, and he compiled without complaint. Perhaps if the tattoo had been intact...but separated as it was, she couldn’t quite imagine it whole. Plus, there was a whole section missing, replaced with sinew and bone where supple, pale skin should have been.
As she studied the designs a flash of pale color within the coils of Tesse’s hair caught her eye. Becka reached out, using the tip of the pen held in her fingers, and teased a pale lavender rose petal out from the voluminous layers and onto the white stone.
“Is this a House Rowan tradition I am unaware of?” Quinn asked.
“Not one I’ve ever heard of,” Becka answered. “It looks fresh.” Becka reached out to pick up the petal to get a better look.
However, when Becka touched the petal it dried out and crumbled into blackened dust in less than a second, as if time had suddenly caught up with it all at once. Becka ran a finger through the remains, remembering the blackened fur on Tesse’s cat.
“This reminds me of Oriani’s tail,” she said. “Why do you think it did that?”
“It might have been a conjured object,” Quinn replied. “Although you don’t usually come across those hidden from view. The whole point is usually to show off. Do you see any others?” He played the flashlight over Tesse’s hair.
“I don’t,” she replied. “But I’m not going digging through her hair for more either.”
Becka refocused, returning to the task of capturing the markings within the pages of the notepad. When she’d done the best she could to recreate the overlapping swirls, lines, and geometric forms, Becka handed the notebook back to Quinn to review.
He stored his flashlight and Becka pulled the funeral shroud back into place over her sister, so the next mourner wouldn’t be forced to look upon the gore. Quinn flipped through the pages she’d drawn, going back and forth a couple of times comparing images.
“Can you describe the texture of the lines?” He looked at her, his focus absolute.
Becka shivered, although she wasn’t sure why. “They are black and slightly rounded upwards in the middle. Almost like scars?”
He jotted down some notes. “Does the color shift at all? Lighten? Or colors other than black?”
She nodded. “Where it’s raised the black is a little faded, but otherwise it’s the same color.”
“Is there any difference in intensity where the patterns overlap?”
“A little. It’s darker. Makes it harder to see which line came first or which set goes together.”
“That’s how it seems in your drawings. These are well done. Thank you, Becka.” He gave her an encouraging smile.
Becka smiled back, despite her confusion. “I still don’t understand your reaction. You say you can’t see it, but you don’t think I’m imagining them?”
He held up the notebook opened to a page covered in her drawings. “This is overly specific to be just your imagination.”
“But...why do you believe me at all? My aunt and younger brother have both accused me of conspiring to ruin my twin’s funeral. They’re guilded and respectable within the fae culture. I’m not.”
“Which is precisely why I trust you. You do not have anything to gain. Also, when you speak I do not hear any falsehoods.”
“What about when Astrid and Calder spoke?”
He shrugged. “I did not hear any lies on them, but they were energetically guarded, which casts suspicion on their statements. I could not pinpoint anything, but it’s possible they lied through omission.”
“Couldn’t this just be the next step in my nefarious plan?”
Quinn stowed the notebook away in his jacket. “I do not know why you keep expecting me to doubt you, Becka.”
Indeed, why was she asking the man, who she wasn’t sure whether to fear, if he trusted her or not? “Weird things keep happening around me, why wouldn’t you suspect me? You’ve even admitted to including me in the investigation.”
Quinn shook his head, his confidence an absolute. “Yes, weird things are happening, and yes, you are at the center. That doesn’t mean you caused them. At least not on purpose. However, your situation is a mystery I intend to solve.”
Becka’s breath hitched in her throat, her gaze catching on his lips. She cleared her throat. “So, what do you think the marks signify?”
“They could mean nothing, but since they are hidden from practically everyone, I have to assume they are important. Do you mind if we retire to your room for a bit?”
“Sure, why?”
“I need to call Chief Elowen, she’s my superior, and send in these images for the team to review.”
Team? But of course, there’s a team. “Alright.”
“I am also going to need you to sign a non-disclosure agreement about the case.”
Becka barked out a laugh, only to realize a moment later from his stern expression that he wasn’t joking. “Wait, what?”
“You have learned details about the investigation that need to be kept secret from others in the family and the press, should you ever be questioned. It is standard procedure and protects the investigation in progress.”
She frowned. They could legally compel her to keep her mouth shut?
Surely not.
“This doesn’t change my plans, Quinn. I’ve decided to return home to the city, with or without your escort.”
His eyes did that little squint frown as the rest of his face remained neutral. “Let’s discuss this in more detail back at your room.”
They walked out of the chamber and took the path back to the manor house.
Quinn had sounded like a firm no on his end of the conversation. Becka’s ire rose. “I’m tired of fae telling me how to live,” she muttered, “even you. I am going home, with or without your help.”
Quinn stopped abruptly and turned to face her. “Do you remember what just happened back in there?”
“Yeah, I saw Tesse and drew the symbols in your notebook. And there was that weird flower petal dusting. I was there,” she replied, holding up a finger still black from the ash.
He stepped into her space, his voice dropping to low tones. “You are not understanding me. Back in there you saw something no one else has seen, and plenty of other eyes have had the opportunity.”
Becka’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you think it means?”
“I think Astrid and Calder are right. You are the trigger for these events. The shroud breaking. The fault in Astrid’s homage. And now Tessa’s marks.”
“How can you even think I’d do those things!” Becka pulled away but he snagged her arm and kept her close.
“Becka, I’ve become confident there is something going on with you,” he replied. “But I suspect it is something you are completely unaware of.”
Becka shook off his grip, but didn’t move away. “Wait, what are you saying?”
“Think about it, Becka. There are markings upon your sister. Only you can see them, so they must be enchanted or hidden in some way so that even recording devices cannot detect them. How do you suppose you, and only you, can see those designs?”
Becka’s mouth hung open. She had no answer. Magic had never worked for her, but now everything was going sideways. She felt like she’d boarded a runaway train, lost in a foreign landscape with a target on her back.
Twinned Shadow (The Shadow Series Book 1) Page 10