“If you want to be treated like an adult, try acting like one. If you’re rude to me again, a lesson will be in order. I’m done excusing your behavior as youthful ignorance.”
I gave him the witchy look, pinning him in place. I stared at him until I could see the effort it took for him to keep the empty grin on his face. Catherine shifted uneasily and stepped away from him. Simon gritted his teeth, and he looked to the dragon for help.
“She is a witch,” he said simply. “One is not rude to witches.”
“I’m going back to the house.” Simon stormed out of the room, stomping over the deck like an irate child before leaping onto the pier and marching back toward Marilyn’s house.
I followed after him, and Catherine and Vazkasi brought up the rear. Ahead of me, Simon stumbled and hunched forward, as if in pain. Before I could say anything, he picked up speed, cleared the pier and ran across the beach. I narrowed my eyes.
“Shade,” Catherine said suddenly.
I turned in time to see her slipping her cell phone back into her pocket. “Yes?”
She opened her mouth, then shut it. She looked at the dragon. “Could I have a moment to speak with Shade? Alone?”
“Your father will not like that,” Vazkasi said doubtfully.
“Please. You’ll be right here.”
He sighed. “Do not go far.”
I raised my eyebrows, perturbed by Catherine’s sudden change in demeanor. She gestured for me to follow her as if we were mates at a boarding school and she wanted us to sneak out after curfew. Majesty shifted his weight on my shoulder, and I felt his energy pulse against my neck.
“Easy, there.” I stroked his head, scratched behind his ears. Scath gave me an approving nod, but the gesture drew Majesty’s attention. He leapt to the sandy beach and dove for Scath’s heels, batting at her calves in an effort to make her pick him up. I used him as an excuse to come closer to Scath.
“Did you hear her on the phone?” I asked under my breath.
“It was Devanos. But I couldn’t make out what he said,” Scath answered, keeping her voice down as well.
I picked up Majesty and returned to where the half-sidhe waited.
“My dad says you’re not trying to stop the thefts,” Catherine said carefully. “He said you have orders to let the thief get away with it.”
“Does this have anything to do with the bowl and chalice I found under your bed?” I asked.
Catherine flinched. “Dad’s always lecturing me about court. He goes on and on about how easy it is to sound like you’re giving your word without giving it. Or how easy it is to get around your word after you have given it.”
“It is a skill the sidhe excel at,” I said pointedly.
Catherine met my eyes. “You want to stop the thief. Stop them before anyone can use the artifacts. Don’t you?”
“But like you said, my orders—”
“I’ve heard about you, Mother Renard,” Catherine interrupted. “Everyone talks about you, especially Marilyn. I’ve heard people trying to make you out to be a villain. But I think you want to help people, and you’re willing to put yourself on the line if you think that’s what it takes to do the right thing.”
I considered Catherine for a long minute. She was turning out to be more of a puzzle than I’d thought. “Do you need help, Catherine?” I asked gently.
“You can’t help me with what I need,” the girl said sadly. “Only my father can do that.”
“You do want to go to court.”
She nodded.
Suddenly when I looked at Catherine, I saw Simon. Someone who wanted to be part of a different world and had no idea how dangerous it could be. How quickly the pretty people turned ugly. And violent. If I were smart, I’d learn from my experience with Simon, and just let her go.
“Court isn’t the dream you think it is,” I said earnestly. “It’s not just the politics and power plays, either. You might think you know what people at court will be like, but what you need to understand is how just being around them—surviving at court—will change you. If you do go to court, you may not like who you become.”
Catherine’s expression turned brittle, and she curled her hands into fists at her sides before forcibly relaxing. “With all due respect, Mother Renard. You aren’t sidhe. You’ll forgive me if I think we might see things differently.”
I wanted to say more, but I let it go. I wasn’t going to change her mind. Not tonight. “Why did you ask to talk to me?”
Majesty squirmed out of my arms again. He rubbed the length of his body over Catherine’s shin, and she glanced down. “I have a great deal of respect for you, Mother Renard. You’re smart. And you’re resourceful. You want to stop the thief, and I think you’ll figure out a way to do it. Order or no.” She picked up Majesty and rubbed her face on his soft, furry head. She sighed. “I’m sorry.”
I saw what she was about to do, saw it in her face, in the sudden movement of her hand. And I was too slow to stop her.
“Don’t—” I yelled.
Catherine pinched Majesty—hard. The kitten let out a yowl of protest, and a gust of wind exploded from the small feline, slamming into Catherine’s body and hurling her back over the sand. She struck the stone bluff, her head bouncing off the unyielding surface, then went limp.
“Catherine!” I ran to her, but something crashed into me from the side before I made it more than a few steps. I flew a good five feet, then hit the ground—hard.
“Peasblossom!” Every nerve in my body spasmed, and I froze, praying I hadn’t landed on top of my familiar.
“I’m here! I’m fine!”
She was on the sand a foot away, and I rolled to my feet and rushed over to scoop her up, unzipping my pouch with my free hand. “Get in there and stay safe,” I said, my eyes already on Vazkasi. The dragon had struck me with careless force, and he’d nearly sent me into the lake. I hated to think of what he could have done if he’d wanted me dead.
“You would attack her while she’s under my protection?” the dragon growled. “While you are both guests?”
“I didn’t attack her, she provoked an accident on purpose,” I snapped.
I could see Catherine over the dragon’s shoulder. The half-sidhe struggled to her feet, one hand rubbing her head. She was stronger than I’d given her credit for, because it only took a few unsteady paces for her to regain her bearings. She didn’t even look at me before taking off for Marilyn’s house at a dead run.
“She doesn’t look hurt to me,” I said grimly, pointing at the dragon’s fleeing charge.
Vazkasi followed where I pointed without turning his back on me. His brow folded, and I watched him hover with indecision, torn between staying to punish me, or pursuing the girl he was supposed to be protecting.
Beside me, Scath had clearly had enough of her human form. I saw her out of my peripheral vision, stripping out of her clothes, her eyes already bright green.
The dragon’s phone rang, and he answered, his attention still focused on me. “Hello?” He listened, and the corners of his mouth fell into a frown. “I understand.”
I started to move around him, but he blocked my path as he ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Mr. Emlyn doesn’t want you returning to the house until after he’s calmed Catherine down. She’s very upset. And injured.”
I didn’t have time to argue with the dragon. Catherine was up to something, and so was her father. I had to get back to the house now.
I snatched Majesty off the ground and hurled him at the dragon. Vazkasi’s eyes bulged and he held out his hands, shielding his face. He might have been expecting a spell, but he hadn’t been expecting a kitten bomb.
I took off running for the house. The dragon batted Majesty out of the way, and I saw a pink light flare around the kitten as he hit the ground on all fours and took off for the house. Vazkasi lurched toward me, but a black feline shape ran past me, mouth open to reveal white fangs.
I trusted Scath to
keep the dragon off me. I put my head down and concentrated on the house ahead of me, on running as fast as I could.
I was not a runner by nature. By the time I reached the house, I was out of breath, and I had a stitch in my side that felt like a giant scorpion had surprised me between here and the lake. I halted inside the door, bent over, fighting to breathe.
“Thief!” cried a voice.
It was Simon, and his cry had come from deeper in the house, from the direction of the room with his paintings. I stood up so fast I almost fell over. The butler rushed into the room, horrified to see that I’d barged into the house without knocking. I ignored him and ran through the foyer, down the hall, following the shout.
When I reached the art room, I found a mess waiting for me. Devanos was lying on the floor, a bloody gash across his pale cheek, splatters of red over the stark white of his shirt. Marilyn was at the other end of the room, shouting down the hall. I thought I heard Simon’s name, but she fell silent when she saw me. Alicia sat in one of the chairs facing the paintings, her knuckles white where she gripped the arms of her seat, her fury so strong I felt it in the rising temperature that surrounded her.
“What happened?” I demanded.
“Simon went mad,” Catherine gasped.
I pivoted to find her standing against the wall. She ran to her father’s side and collapsed to her knees, digging in his pocket for a handkerchief. She pointed to the wine and food spilled all over the floor with one hand, then used the other to clean the blood from his cheek. “I was handing my aunt a bowl of strawberries, and he stormed in. He grabbed all the dishes and ran out.”
He stole the bowl she was serving to her aunt.
I looked at Alicia. The half-vulcanus was obviously trying for a neutral expression, but there was no hiding the fury in her good eye. If I had to guess, that was the face of a woman who’d been so close to getting what she wanted she could almost taste it. Literally.
I put a hand to my temple, trying to calm my chaotic thoughts. Catherine had made false artifacts. Catherine had set it up as a joke, or so she believed. Alicia had attacked me to keep me from recovering a partial set she believed to be real, and she had most definitely thought she was going to benefit from a power infusion tonight.
But if Catherine was the thief, then why was Simon acting out? Even if he’d planned to steal the items, surely he had a smoother scheme than a last-minute snatch and grab.
I looked at Devanos, and my attention fell to his neck. “Your scars are gone, and your cheeks have more color than when I first arrived.” Suddenly I asked, “Devanos, your talent—what is it?”
“Now is hardly the time for such a rude interrogation, Mother Renard,” Marilyn snapped.
I didn’t take my gaze off him and he scowled back as he got to his feet, brushing himself off. “I don’t—”
“You can split your physical form, can’t you?” I pressed. “You’re a doppleganger.”
He didn’t answer me, but I knew I was right. Doppleganger fey could split their bodies into two separate, identical forms, each capable of individual thought. It wasn’t a talent that was talked about much, in no small part due to the fact that someone who could be in two places at once was not to be trusted. The scars on his neck would have continued down his whole body, a mark where the split had occurred. Re-absorption was much easier, nearly instantaneous. And it healed the scars.
“Look, there on the floor!” Peasblossom hissed.
I looked down and saw a small leather pouch at Devanos’ feet. I darted forward to scoop it up before he could reclaim it.
“An extra-dimensional bag,” I said, feeling around in the bag. The inside was bigger than the outside. “Perfect for sneaking in large dinnerware?”
“Are you accusing me of something?” Devanos asked, his tone deadly calm. He looked at Marilyn. “Have I come here to be insulted? Is this the sort of guest you invite into your home?”
“Mother Renard, if you’re going to be offensive, then you should leave.” Marilyn took a step forward angling her body toward the door. It wasn’t a threat, or an order, but it had the potential to become one.
I stared at Devanos. He’d been split earlier. What had his other half been doing? He was back together now, so whatever his goal had been, it was done. I remembered the cuff links. Simon’s voice echoed in my head. Thief. He’d called Devanos a thief. At least I assumed he’d been talking to Devanos. He was obviously the one who’d been struck.
“You were looking for gold. Did you find it in Simon’s studio?”
Devanos turned away from me. “I won’t stand here and listen to your accusations. Catherine, come with me. We’re leaving.”
“Answer her question.” Marilyn’s voice was cold, and her tone made it clear she wasn’t asking.
“You think I would steal from you? You think I would violate your hospitality in such a way?” Devanos spun to face her. “And for what? What need have I for those artifacts? I don’t need more power, Marilyn. I—”
“But you knew about the curses,” I said slowly. Realization dawned. The truth curse. What was the one thing Devanos wanted more than anything else? I stared at Alicia. The truth about the murder of his wife.
So Simon had taken the artifacts. He’d taken them, and then Devanos had stolen them from Simon. And he’d called Catherine to use them on Alicia so he wouldn’t need to. A neat way to avoid the curses.
“Devanos, answer me. Did you steal from my protege?” Marilyn seethed.
“You’re only mad he stole the items from Simon?” I demanded, turning to Marilyn. “Seriously? You’re not upset that Simon stole from you? From your museum?”
Marilyn glared at me. “He did not steal from me.”
Vazkasi lurched into the room, his chest heaving, Scath at his side. It seemed they’d come to an accord, both of them deciding a battle between them was less important than getting back to guarding their respective clients.
“What is going on?” the dragon demanded.
I looked at Marilyn, kept staring at her until the blank mask melted away.
She sighed. “It was a harmless little joke.”
“What?” I growled.
“It was Simon’s idea,” she said. “When he found out a part of the set the chalice belonged to had been stolen, and you were ‘investigating,’ he thought it would be funny to pull your chain a bit. I let him replace the real chalice with a forgery.”
I stared at her. “He crafted a forgery. Out of gold.”
“No,” Marilyn corrected me. “He didn’t make the forgery himself. He is working on smelting metals, but he hasn’t reached that level yet. I had one of my other artists do it.”
“I was only gone for a few hours after I saw the chalice!”
Marilyn frowned. “My artists aren’t all human. With more time, they could have created a forgery to fool Jim Givens himself. As it was, you were the only one fooled.”
Nothing she said was technically a lie, but I didn’t believe for a second that it had been a “little joke.” Marilyn had allowed Simon to have his fun because she wanted me humiliated. And Devanos’ little “show of Catherine’s talents” had been an added bonus, making me a laughing stock in front of all of her guests. Watch the witch panic, everyone. Isn’t it funny?
But I wasn’t the only one who’d been manipulated. She just didn’t know it yet.
“Simon suggested you replace the chalice with a fake,” I said, my voice dull. “Do you really not see that he’s used you?”
Marilyn huffed. “Mother Renard, I am not a fool. Simon could not have accessed the real chalice, it is safely locked up at the museum.”
My heart skipped a beat. “And does Morgan have access to the secure place you’re keeping the chalice?” I asked.
The smile melted from Marilyn’s face. “She wouldn’t dare.”
“Where’s his studio?” I asked grimly.
Without a word, Marilyn turned on her heel. Her anger pulsed in the air around her, filling th
e tight hallway with a cloud of power so thick it was hard to breathe. More so for me, after the run back here from the beach. Even with the fresh rush of adrenaline, I was breathing heavily by the time we reached a heavy wooden door that looked like it’d come straight from a fairy tale castle dungeon. Marilyn opened it as if it weighed nothing and we all moved inside.
There were canvases set up all over the room. Some on easels, some on the wall, even one or two on the floor. In the corner, there was a bed strewn with silk sheets and satin pillows. A half-finished painting of Morgan sat on an easel beside the display bed. In front of the painting, there was a set of circles painted on the floor. Simon stood in the center most circle, and Morgan stood outside his circle, but within the other.
A bowl and knife sat on a small table, and there were strawberries cut up inside the bowl, so juicy they looked bloody. Morgan held half a strawberry pinched between long, pale fingers, and I entered the room just in time to see her feed it to Simon. One glance at the table showed me the knife. The real knife.
His face looked like wax held too close to the flame, his skin red and mottled. He was hunched over, looking as if the magic had twisted his vertebrae. It was the curse of stealing the knife, which brought deformity.
Morgan was handing Simon the chalice as Marilyn cleared her way around one of the pillars and saw what she was doing.
“Simon!” Marilyn snapped.
Morgan’s black dress was backless and I saw the muscles along her spine tense into hard knots under her soft skin. But she didn’t turn. And she didn’t stop. She shoved the chalice at Simon, and I heard her whisper something, low and urgent.
Simon had looked up at his mistress’ call, and he leaned around Morgan to look at Marilyn even as he took the offered chalice.
Simon opened his mouth as if he’d respond to Marilyn, but then his attention landed on me. His eyes widened, and he grasped the cup tighter.
He upended the chalice and gulped it down.
Chapter 25
“No!” Marilyn screamed.
Morgan hurled herself back as soon as the chalice touched Simon’s lips, and as he swallowed, she stomped one foot down on the inner circle. I felt a sharp snap of air pressure that made my ears pop.
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