Death at Peony House (The Invisible Entente Book 2)

by Krista Walsh

  “This is a lot to take in,” he said.

  She nodded, unable to say anything else yet.

  Hunter cleared his throat and paced the width of the hallway. A minute passed before he stopped in front of her.

  “You did more than let me down, Daphne,” he said, and although he spoke with detached, professional coolness, the strain she heard beneath his words gave away his effort to maintain it. “You walked into my life five years ago and swept the rug out from under me. You were confident, funny, sexy. When we were together I found myself believing I could even fall —” He cut himself off, but the words he didn’t say sat between them and Daphne’s heart warmed at the realization that he’d cared for her more than she’d known. The heat evaporated as he continued. “Then you really nailed home for me how well some people can lie. I nearly lost my job because of you. Now I walk into this…circus, and you expect me to believe it’s some fairy tale and you’re the princess who’s ‘just trying to help’?”

  He snorted and started pacing again.

  Daphne took all of his words as individual knives to her stomach and kept her gaze focused on his polished shoes.

  He stopped again. “At the same time, I can’t deny what I saw here tonight. I want to, trust me, because if I mentioned this to anyone at the station, they’d laugh me out of the office. The captain would put me on stress leave for a month. But I saw what I saw. And if that part is true —”

  He cut himself off again and pushed his hands through his auburn hair, the locks sticking up in spikes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if that part is true, then maybe there’s something in what you’re saying. But I’m going to need proof. Even if it’s your own kind of evidence. I need something more than guesswork.”

  Hope trickled into Daphne’s heart. She raised her gaze to his, but he’d dropped his attention to the floor, his eyes glazed over in thought.

  “So you’ll help me?” she asked, and the question came out quieter than she’d intended. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t shot her down.

  He met her gaze, and within the green and brown irises, she saw everything she felt — disbelief, resolve, and fear.

  “I made an oath to protect this city,” he said, “and if that means stepping into a Grimm story to do it, then, God help me, yes. I’ll help you.”

  19

  Daphne worked on waking up Emmett as she filled Hunter in. She shared everything she had found out about Charles, and although Hunter occasionally shook his head and stared at her in amazement, he never expressed any doubt in her story. He asked questions to get at the heart of her evidence and treated the situation as if it were any other case.

  “It’s shaky,” he said when she finished. “Most of the information can’t be supported, so it would never hold up in court.”

  He passed a hand over his eyes and sat back on his heels as Daphne stroked Emmett’s hair. The young man’s eyelids fluttered, but he hadn’t yet opened them for longer than a few seconds.

  “How do you see this wrapping up?” Hunter asked.

  Daphne frowned and blew a stray hair out of her face. Her eyelids fought to close and her head ached, but she pushed the pain aside.

  “To be honest, I’m hoping some well-placed button pushing might get him to confess,” she said.

  “To what?” Hunter asked. “Devouring a man’s soul?”

  She pressed her lips together. The plan had sounded so much better in her head.

  “All right,” she said. “That’s valid. But maybe we can get him hospitalized. Part of what I need to do is cast the same spell I did on the demons here. I need to disentangle the energy of his victims from his own magic. From everything I’ve learned, the negative emotions the demons consume can leave their minds addled. The more they feed, the more insane they become. Imagine if all you carried around with you were the nasty feelings. No happiness, no love, just hate, anger, and fear. It’d mess with anyone. I bet if we ran a psychological evaluation on Charles, the doctors would find enough reasons of their own to have him committed.”

  Emmett opened his eyes, and she applied gentle pressure on his shoulder to keep him down. “Lie still, honey. How are you feeling?”

  He groaned, but didn’t reply.

  “We’d still need a reason to get him in for the evaluation,” said Hunter.

  Daphne thought of the demons that had attacked her. None of them had seemed in their right minds, and the more she’d provoked them, the nastier they’d become. The mention of taking them away from the house had been enough to get them to come at her.

  “I shouldn’t have any trouble with that part. But it’ll need to happen here.”

  Hunter shook his head. “Not if we want to do this by official channels. For this to be legitimate, I’ll need to take him down to the station for questioning.”

  Daphne’s eyes widened. “And risk having him change forms around all those people? It’s safer to bring him here. Let me take the lead. You can be here as…my backup.”

  She smirked at the idea, but it was the only way she could have control over the situation.

  “Not going to happen,” he said.

  Daphne sat back on her heels, not letting go of Emmett’s hand. Emmett’s gray eyes shifted between her and Hunter, still glazed, but becoming more focused.

  “You said you would help me,” she said. “I know I said I want this done legally, but I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. I don’t know how he’s going to react once he’s angry. I doubt it’ll be pretty.”

  “I could be accused of tampering if anyone found out.”

  “Then stay hidden. He doesn’t need to know you’re here until the end.”

  “And when it comes out that I was eavesdropping and letting a journalist handle the case? You said you wanted to make things up to me. This sounds like another threat to my job.” His expression folded into a scowl.

  Emmett grunted as he tugged his hand out of Daphne’s. She realized she’d tightened her grip in frustration. She patted his shoulder and dropped cross-legged onto the ground. “Then what do you suggest? We’re at a crossroads, Detective. We need to find some middle ground.”

  Hunter puffed out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “All right, we’ll look at doing it your way, but I’m going to need a police witness to back me up so I don’t seem like an incompetent fool. You call Charles and find a way to get him here. Meg and I will come here together, do a tour of the grounds and find you guys. Then it won’t just be my word against one of the richest men in New Haven’s.”

  “No,” Daphne shook her head. “Meg can’t know.”

  “Daphne —”

  “No! I’m taking enough of a risk telling you all of this. Now she’s going to know, too? Besides, she hates me. I see that going over really well.” Hunter opened his mouth to argue, but Daphne jumped in first. “I’m not saying she doesn’t have reason, but it does present another challenge.”

  “That’s my middle ground,” he said, leaving no more room for argument.

  They locked gazes for a moment, and finally Daphne snarled. “Fine. We’ll call that the compromise. I’ll call him tonight and convince him to meet me here tomorrow.”

  “How?” he asked.

  She arched an eyebrow. “Do you really want to know?”

  He groaned. “No.”

  “What’s going on?” Emmett asked, the words coming out slurred.

  Daphne and Hunter helped him sit up.

  “You should get going if you don’t want to be seen,” said Hunter, putting his jacket back on. “How are you getting home? You’re in no shape to drive.”

  “I’m really not,” said Daphne, the world swimming in front of her eyes. “I’ll figure something out.”

  They eased Emmett to his feet and helped him downstairs and across the front lawn to the passenger seat of Daphne’s car. As Daphne closed the door, she was all too aware of Hunter standing over her. He brushed the same stubborn lock of hair behind her ear, and a shiver cascaded d
own her spine. Then he pulled his hand away and stuffed both of them in his pockets.

  “I feel like I’ve stepped into a movie,” he said, “and as unreal as everything feels, everything about you somehow makes a lot more sense. You’ve been a huge pain in my ass, Heartstone — more than any other journalist or woman I’ve ever known — but I’m glad to know there’s more to you than blind ambition. Gives me hope you’ll turn out to be a good person after all.”

  Daphne’s cheeks flushed. “I’m working on it.”

  The corner of Hunter’s lips twitched upward. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She nodded, and when he started back to the steps, she called after him. “Can you wait upstairs with Harold until someone gets here? I don’t like the thought of him being alone. He deserves better than that.”

  Hunter nodded and went inside.

  Daphne brushed her sleeve across her eyes and limped across the street to Denise’s house.

  ***

  Fortunately, Denise was still awake, and when she opened the door to Daphne, she didn’t bother to ask questions — she just stepped aside to let her in.

  “At least you’re standing on your own this time,” she said, and when Daphne asked her to drive her and Emmett home, she didn’t hesitate to grab her jacket and follow her outside.

  On the drive, Daphne sat in the backseat and gave both her and Emmett a brief rundown of what had happened. When she got to the part about Harold not making it through, she was met with stunned silence.

  After a minute, Emmett said, “I’m glad.”

  Both Denise and Daphne looked his way, and he shifted in his seat to face them.

  “I don’t mean it like that. Just that he was old and tired, and his entire life was about catching these demons. Then he finally did. Talk about scratching the major item off your bucket list. It’s not like he had any regrets anymore, right? Now he doesn’t have to be lonely or depressed — he can go back to the other guardians or however that works after you die.”

  In spite of her sadness, Daphne found herself smiling. Emmett was right.

  “What’s a guardian?” Denise asked.

  They spent the rest of the drive catching her up on everything else, and by the time she pulled into Daphne’s driveway, her entire face had gone blank.

  “I don’t live in the same world as I did the other day,” she said, shaking her head.

  Daphne leaned forward between the seats and kissed her cheek. “That’s the beauty of it, my friend. You do. Keep the car overnight. I’ll grab it tomorrow when we wrap up at the hospital. And thanks, I owe you one.”

  “Honey, you owe me at least fifty by now.”

  Denise drove away with a wave, still shaking her head, and Daphne helped Emmett inside.

  After escaping all the hugs from her mother and grandmother, enduring some force-fed tea and cookies, and confirming Emmett was comfortably set up on her mother’s couch, Daphne was finally able to escape upstairs. Evelyn and Cheryl had agreed to wait to hear the story until she’d had some sleep, thank gods. She felt like she hadn’t rested in a week.

  She left a trail of clothing from her front door to her bedroom as she stripped down to her underwear and fell into bed. She was asleep before she had the chance to pull up her comforter.

  ***

  When Daphne woke the next morning, it was to the warmth of a bright sun, the chirping of spring birds, and the sharp throbbing behind her left eye. She buried her head under her pillow, but found herself shivering too much to fall back to sleep. Her joints ached, her skin burned, and she wished she’d had the forethought to drag a bucket beside her bed.

  A gentle knock sounded on the frame of her bedroom door, and she squinted one eye open. Her mother stood in the doorway with a cup of tea in one hand and a poultice in the other. She still wore her cat-print white cotton pajamas and fluffy pink slippers.

  “I know, I know,” she said, keeping her volume low. “I’m not supposed to be up here without permission, but I thought you might need these this morning.”

  She came into the room with soft steps, set the teacup and poultice on the nightstand, and grabbed the comforter to drape over Daphne’s body. Before the black-and-white blanket hid her skin, Daphne caught sight of the bruises and red marks covering her from neck to toe. She didn’t want to imagine what her face looked like.

  “You’ll be all right, pet,” Cheryl assured her, fluffing the pillows under her neck. “A few days’ rest is all you need.”

  Daphne groaned, rolled over, and carefully shimmied herself into a sitting position. Benji, who must have sneaked in behind Cheryl, jumped onto the bed and spread his massive frame across Daphne’s hips, stretching his paws into the sunlight streaming through the open window.

  “I can’t rest, Mom. I’m supposed to meet Hunter at Peony House today. We still have Jack’s case to wrap up.”

  She remembered she’d given her car to Denise to get home and wondered how she was going to get across the city.

  Cheryl set her hand on Daphne’s shoulder and pushed her against the pillows. “I don’t know how I raised such a stubborn, short-sighted daughter. You must have got it from your father.”

  Daphne raised an eyebrow. They both knew very well who she’d inherited her stubbornness from.

  “Shush. But fine, if you won’t listen to my very wise, very experienced advice, at least take half an hour to drink this tea and put this poultice over your eye. Otherwise people will pay more attention to your face than what you’re saying.”

  Daphne tenderly pressed the skin around her eye and winced at the ache of a forming bruise. “I have no idea how I got this one.”

  She accepted the tea cup and relaxed into the pillows while Cheryl set the poultice over her cheek.

  “Morgrin demons,” she said, shaking her head. She sank onto the bed beside Daphne and ran her fingers through Benji’s thick sepia fur. “How did things go last night?”

  Daphne cupped her hands around the mug, grateful for the warmth seeping through the ceramic into her aching fingers. “We did what we intended to do. The demons are gone, and the ghosts are free.” She took another sip of tea. The herbs her mother had chosen for the blend slipped down her throat, and the warmth seeped into her limbs, thawing out her insides. But her heart remained cold.

  “What’s wrong, honey?”

  “Harold died,” she said. She clutched her mug and tried not to think about it, but it didn’t work. Tears spilled onto her cheeks.

  Cheryl shifted on the bed, put her arm around Daphne’s shoulders, and hugged her tight. She smelled of cinnamon and clean linen, of lilacs and the summer sun. “You did what you had to do, pet. And so did he. Now all those people you went out to save are free, and he is too. I imagine his life was lonely here, living only for a mission he didn’t feel up to completing on his own. You helped him as much as them. That’s something to be proud of.”

  Daphne’s tears came harder and faster, not just for Harold, but for all the pain she’d endured the night before, for her slip in taking in the green magic, and for the happiness on Mary Ruth’s face when she was finally able to cross over. She buried herself in her mother’s comforting arms until the deluge subsided.

  Once her cheeks were dry, and the effects of the tea had sunk in, she felt better. Stronger than she had in days.

  “What about things with that detective? Did he make it there in time?”

  Daphne nodded, screwing her mouth up in a grimace. “I don’t think he’ll blab, and he seemed willing to believe me, so that all went as well as it could have.”

  “You’ve never really talked about him before,” Cheryl said. “Are you sure you can trust him?”

  Daphne raised a shoulder and winced at the stiffness. “It’s a long story, but I believe he’ll have my back today.”

  “He’d better, or police detective or no, he’ll have me to deal with.”

  Cheryl kissed the top of Daphne’s head and took her empty tea cup from her, then slid
the poultice off Daphne’s eye and brushed back the mess of hair around the injured cheek to take a look. “It’s better. You still look like something out of a horror film that’s going to send children screaming to their parents, but it’s better.”

  Daphne swatted her, but found herself laughing. The feel of it boosted her returning strength.

  Her mother stood up, keeping hold of her hand. “I’ll help you get to the shower, but then you’re on your own.”

  She went into the bathroom to run the water, turned on the spray, and then came back to help Daphne slide out of bed. Benji let out an offended yowl at being dislodged from his warm spot and disappeared downstairs. With her mother’s arm around her waist, Daphne waddled into the bathroom. Cheryl closed the door and left Daphne to wriggle out of her bra and underwear and carefully ease one foot and then the other into the base of the old tub.

  The water felt magnificent, if painful, and she remained under the spray until her cramped toes released their hold and her skin shriveled up into its prune impersonation. She dreaded getting out, wanting to stay bundled in blankets all day watching black-and-white movies and making her way through an entire box of chocolate caramels.

  But first, she had to wrap up this story. The clock was ticking and she only had a few more hours to get a final draft of her article on Gerry’s desk.

  Slicking her hair back, she turned off the water and reversed her careful process to get out of the tub. She dried off, pulled on a pair of gray slacks and a light blue sweater, and dabbed on some makeup to cover the worst of the bruise around her left eye. When she determined she looked somewhat better than death warmed over, she went into her office and dug up the insurance information for Peony House, then picked up her phone and dialed a number.

  Eliza answered with her usual bland tone. “Charles Ancowitz’s office.”

  “Good morning,” Daphne said, adopting her snootiest, most professional tone. “My name is Sophia Crayle, and I’m an insurance adjuster with Commercore Insurance.” She glanced at the computer screen to make sure she’d gotten the name right. Her vision was a bit blurred from the swelling around her eye. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Ancowitz regarding an inspection of the hospital today in light of the recent incident that took place there.”