Investigated

by Maya Daniels

  “And where would the fun in that be, Hellion.” Pulling my hands away, he keeps chuckling. “Come on, this was just a preview of the entertainment for tonight. I’m looking forward to the main act.”

  “You are a mean asshole, Fenrir.” The heat is missing from my voice. “I don’t think anyone will miss me if I don’t show up.”

  “I know one someone that will miss you.” All the humor leaves his face, and my stomach clenches, dreading his next words. “They are having this gathering in your name. We must show up, Francesca. And you are not to leave my sight. Not even for a second, do you hear me?”

  Nodding woodenly, I get off the floor, flattening my skirt and top with my hands. Blowing a deep breath through pursed lips, I steel my resolve. The funny thing is, I’m more nervous about seeing Zoltan than whoever the Board are. It serves me right for acting like a child and running away instead of facing whatever issues I have.

  But I’m good at running.

  It’s all I’ve been doing my entire life, burying my head in the sand, forcing work or other distractions to fill every moment of my time so I don’t have to face life.

  Or myself.

  “No more running.” Glancing at Fenrir, I blow another breath out. “Let’s go.”

  A million scenarios go through my head as Fenrir leads me through the winding hallways and open spaces of the building. Trying to distract myself, I see that not everyone is dressed up and ready for the party. Good thing too, if it means that the entire academy won’t see my embarrassment.

  The Fae leads me to the back of the building, the walls and floor more elaborately decorated than what I’ve seen so far. Not wanting to look too interested, I try not to gawk at everything, but there is no doubt in my mind that those are real, precious stones glittering in the candlelight around us. It’s like entering a different world, and there is no visible divide separating the two parts of the building.

  “It’s where only Daywalkers can come. The students are not allowed in this part of the building.” Fenrir must’ve noticed the confusion I feel, explaining it to me without being asked.

  “Why? Only your asses can sit on toilets made of gold?” He looks hurt, so I tone down my snarky comments. “Why is there a difference? They risked their lives to be here. Shouldn’t you show them why?”

  “It is not up to me, Hellion.” Steering me towards tall double doors carved with scenes I’m unwilling to look closely at, the Fae shrugs. “I rarely come here myself. It’s where the Board resides. I stay with the students.”

  “Only Daywalkers are allowed, yet here I am being invited like I’m the queen of the world with a party in my honor.”

  “A good thing, and we know why.” Fenrir stops us at the closed doors. “Just do as we agreed. Stay close to me, and we will be out of here as fast as we can.”

  Some strange feeling like ghostly fingers shifting through my head makes me stiffen. At first, I think it’s a mental attack, something Zoltan was trying to prepare me for before I threw a tantrum and knocked them all unconscious. The energy stays silent, not surging up as it usually did when we practiced my defense against it. It’s the only thing stopping me from throwing the double doors open and finding whoever it is that is poking through my head. At a closer inspection, I realize it’s not an attack but more a call. A distant buzz announcing its presence like we are old friends.

  “Something wrong?” Fenrir steps closer, his body poised for an attack.

  Placing my hand on his forearm, I force him to look at me and stop glaring at the empty space around us. A memory of a frail voice telling me stories makes me more confused but brings one thing clear at the front of my mind.

  “The archives are in this part of the building.” It’s not a question, and my words cause Fenrir’s eyebrows to almost disappear into his hairline.

  “They are.”

  “Will we be able to go there tonight?”

  “We can damn well try, but how did you know?” He is looking down at me, standing so close the scent of forests and rain fills my nostrils.

  “Snake eyes.” I bite my tongue after blurting those words out. What the hell is wrong with you, Franky!

  “What?”

  “Never mind, I have no idea how I know.” Taking a step away from him, I shake my head slightly as if that will clear out my thoughts. “I can feel it, I guess.”

  Fenrir nods sharply once as if that made all the sense in the world. I’m starting to find it fascinating how he doesn’t question me at awkward times when I say things no sane person would. He just takes it in stride as if he hears snake eyes on a daily basis, and like people feeling rooms when they are near them is as normal as saying the moon is up in the sky.

  “Ready?” Cocking his arm at me, he waits until I wrap my fingers in the crook of his elbow.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Squaring my shoulders, the fingers from my other hand trace the strap on my thigh through my skirt, giving me extra reassurance. “I can do this.”

  Fenrir pushes the double doors open.

  Chapter 24

  “I can’t do this.” My fingers digging into Fenrir’s arm will make him bleed soon.

  There is no sign of Zoltan, Azgor, or Cassius anywhere. The large room is devoid of furniture, apart from a humongous chandelier that hangs above our heads like an ax in an executioner's hand. The diamonds, because nothing else will produce those rainbows dancing over the floors and people like the precious stones, twinkle at us, reflecting the floating flames—hence the candles.

  Magic.

  The Board is rubbing it in our faces that they have control over the ancient magic, and there is nothing we can do to stop them. If I wasn’t sure that one, or all of them, is our killer, now I am.

  And they know we are breathing down their neck.

  “Let’s keep walking.” Fenrir doesn’t move his lips as he speaks, a polite smile plastered on his face like a mask.

  Shaking off the fear and anger, I follow his lead, but I’m sure I look more constipated than polite. I’m not much of a smiler, you could say. It feels foreign on my face when I’m around people. A glare will look more natural. That thought makes me smile for real.

  My feet follow wherever the Fae leads me while I try my best to see everything and everyone without being obvious about it. Faces blend together, and I know I’m making small talk, but I have no idea what I’m saying. Fenrir hasn’t stepped on my foot or elbowed me, so I’m guessing the words make sense. I don’t know, and I don’t care.

  A woman steps in my way, and distractedly I smile at her while trying to walk around her. Her cold fingers around my wrist stop me, snapping my eyes to her face. My heart skips a beat when I lock gazes with familiar blue eyes; only these belong to Zoltan’s sister. She looks so much like him that I have to be blind not to notice. If only I paid attention the first time I saw her. Embarrassment renders me mute, leaving me to simply stare at her.

  “Let me try this the right way.” She smiles sheepishly, her cold hand sliding down my wrist and gripping my fingers. “I’m Astara. Zoltan’s younger sister.”

  I want to say it’s nice to meet you. “Are there more of you?” Is what comes out of my mouth.

  Fenrir snorts, and Astara laughs a beautiful sound that will make a dead man rise from his grave.

  “No, it’s just, Zoltan and I. No other siblings, unfortunately.” she tells Fenrir, her eyes dancing while the smile on her pretty face grows bigger. “I like her.”

  “As I said you would.” The arrogant Fae sniffs primly.

  My elbow finds his ribs, and he grunts in pain.

  “Scratch that, I absolutely adore her.” Astara laughs in Fenrir’s scrunched-up-in-pain face.

  “Females will be the death of me.” Shaking his head, he joins the laughter, and even I giggle a little at that.

  “You could’ve made her blend in better.” Astara moves slightly, and I see her blocking the view the rest of the room has of me. “She is standing out like a lamb among the pack of
wolves.”

  The quick glance she sends my camisole makes me look at what she is wearing. A black dress pools down at her feet, the bodice crisscrossed with a golden thread around it that shimmers in the light. Leaning to the side, I look over her shoulder at the rest of the people. Lost in my own thoughts and freaking out because of the reason I am invited here, I don’t pay attention at all at to what the others are wearing. Everyone is dressed in black with gold.

  Everyone but me.

  “Zoltan is going to flip.” Astara looks at Fenrir pointedly.

  “I can’t wait.” Grinning like a fool, he gets another elbow in his ribs.

  “My life is not a joke!” Hissing at him, I yank my hand away from his arm. “If I live long enough, I’m going to make you pay for this, you jerk.”

  “We know why they want you here, Francesca. They know that we know why they want you here. This”—Waving his hand at my clothing, he makes sure my gaze is locked on his before he continues—“tells them to go fuck themselves. We, more importantly, you, are not afraid.”

  “He does make a good point,” Astara says without turning, so my glare gets wasted on her back.

  “I thought I liked you, too. I changed my mind.” Clenching my fists when she laughs, I sweep the room again with my eyes. “Where the hell are the others?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.” Fenrir is looking around as well. “The board is not here either.”

  “My brother should’ve been one of the first to arrive. He rushed out of his room, hoping to catch Francesca as she enters the hall.”

  “So, where is he?” My teeth are making a great work on the inside of my mouth. If I keep it up, I might just chew through it and make the ghoul proud.

  “Let’s do another round.” Fenrir snatches my hand without waiting on an answer, dragging me along with him. Astara trails only a step behind us.

  Catching myself twice when my smile slips, I give up after the third when another guy stops our progress, droning on about some project he’s been working on. When Astara yanks me back by the waistband of my skirt, I’m horrified to see I’ve stepped in the guy's face, and my fangs are digging on the inside of my lower lip. With a tight-lipped smile, I turn away, my eyes widening when they meet Astara’s.

  “We will be right back.”

  Pulling me away from Fenrir, Zoltan’s sister leads me away until we find a secluded spot between two large windows. The soft glow of the floating flames does not reach this area, leaving it cast in shadows. My shoulders sag when we stop, and I’m glad to see I’m not the only one. All the pretense disappears from Astara’s face, and she leans on the wall next to me.

  “I don’t like this.” When her head rolls on her shoulders so she can see me, my feelings are reflected in the distressed look on her face. “Something is not right.”

  Mind spinning, I try and fail to come up with an idea of what to do.

  “Can we go look for him?”

  “I can…” Astara pales, sucking in a sharp breath.

  My head turns slowly, dread like lead settling in the pit of my stomach. My heart lodges in my throat when I see two demon guards dragging Zoltan to the center of the hall. Outraged cries, gasps and shouts bounce off the walls around me but I can’t look away from the vampire. His head is hanging to his chest, rolling limply on his shoulders, and his feet are dragging on the floor. My feet move so I can get my hands on the two demons that dare touch him, but Astara pulls me back so harshly I hear the thread ripping in the seams of my top.

  “Don’t you dare move; he will kill me if I let anything happen to you.” Snapping at me, her hand tightens on my clothes.

  “He will be dead if we don’t do something, Astara. I doubt he can come back from that just to kill you.”

  “You obviously don’t know my brother that well.” But her lips are pressed in a white line, and I can tell she wants to rush to him as bad as I want to.

  “Where the fuck is Fenrir?”

  My whole body is tingling, the energy twisting and turning like a tornado waiting to be unleashed. My skin feels too tight, and I know I’m going to go supernova soon if I don’t find a target for it. That’s when I see the Fae skirting the crowd that has formed a circle around the two demons and Zoltan. They drop him like dead weight on the marbled floor.

  Nudging Astara, I jerk my chin to point at Fenrir. We both stand coiled up, ready to spring if the demons try to do anything to Zoltan while he is out for the count. My gaze finds him again, his black hair tousled, and his shirt ripped in a few places. A red haze bathes the room around me when I see blood pooling under his body.

  “He is alive.” Astara must’ve noticed the same thing because her cold fingers find my forearm, her nails digging into my skin. “Listen, you can hear his heartbeat. He is still alive.”

  Looking away from him, I concentrate on his heartbeat while trying to see Fenrir again. The Fae is nowhere to be found, so I keep looking until the crowd starts parting, getting my full attention. That same guy with the project that pissed me off earlier walks up to stand in front of the three newcomers with arms crossed over his chest.

  “What is the meaning of this?” His voice booms like a cannon in the silent room.

  The three men that just entered the room stand shoulder to shoulder as they face the project guy. I don’t remember his name, and I feel bad for wanting to rip him apart earlier. I might apologize later if I survive this. The robes covering the three new men are enough to tell me who they are.

  The Board.

  The one on the far left with his dark hair and soulless black eyes is unmistakably a vampire. Not because of his features or the alluring power rolling off him in waves. The most prominent fangs I’ve ever seen, as thick and as long as my pinky, are a dead giveaway. His lips, pulled back in a snarl while he watches project guy, are as red as my top.

  The man in the middle is the shortest in height out of the three, but his body is bulkier, his robe stretching an inch of its life over his shoulders. Dirty blond hair sticks all over the place atop of his head, the thick sideburns connecting it to the short beard covering the lower part of his square face. A flat nose, as if it's been broken way too many times to count and can’t heal properly, sits between two yellow eyes, marking him as a shifter. A feline of some sort if I’m not mistaken.

  The third is the most unassuming one. Rail thin, with a hookish nose and long, limp, pepper-colored hair. He looks like the meanest of them all. A mage if I have to place a bet. His light green eyes flick from one face to the next, ignoring project guy like he is not even standing there. His twitching fingers get my attention off his cold, emotionless face, and my chest tightens when sparks fly from their tips and electricity flickers between them. Now I know why Zoltan is unconscious. My whole being centers on the Mage.

  “That fucker is mine,” I tell Astara in case she noticed the same thing, but she doesn’t answer. I can’t look away from the Mage to see what she is doing.

  “He broke the rules.” The shifter speaks with a growl as if his animal is too close under his skin.

  “What rules can Zoltan break? He is the one enforcing them on all of us.” Project guy does not back off, my respect for him growing.

  “He contacted an outsider in hopes of bringing them on our land.” The vampire spits the words like they taste vile on his tongue.

  “Lie! He does not like outsiders, everyone knows this.” Project guy looks around at the gathered people like he expects support, but everyone stares mutely at him. With a frown, he turns back at the three men. “Who was he contacting?”

  “He had an arranged meeting with Roberti.” My heart stops for the tenth time this night. They couldn’t possibly kill Roberti, could they? And what the hell was Zoltan thinking to contact my boss without telling me about it?

  Project guy laughs.

  My jaw hangs open at the audacity of this guy. Who the hell is he? Can I count on him when shit hits the fan, or will he side with the rest of them? And where on earth
is Fenrir?

  “You are getting bored without going out in the field for too long. Or whoever is whispering in your ear is feeding you horse shit.” Project guy does not back down.

  The Mage nods at someone on the side, and I hold my breath, expecting Fenrir to be the next to be dragged in front of everyone. But it’s not, although that would’ve been a better option. Andrius Roberti strides through the crowd like he owns the place. I stare stupidly at him, not understanding what is going on. Is he taking over the academy? Can he even do that? And if he can, why the fuck did he send me here in the first place?

  “No one whispers in their ear. They saw it with their own eyes.” Roberti speaks, and something inside me dies.

  He knew.

  Andrius knew all along that the killer was looking for me, and he sent me here for that reason alone. Not because he cared about the killed residents that counted on his protection.

  “Where is Francesca hiding?” His question snaps my eyes to his face, and our gazes lock across the vast space.

  Chapter 25

  Everything I’ve ever felt disappears from me. I feel like a stranger in my own skin as my feet move on their own despite Astara trying to hold me back. Conversations fleet through my mind, Roberti’s words that he wants to figure me out the loudest among them. My boss has always played the long game. While the rest of us stare at the trees, he sees the forest.

  Has he been planning this very moment since the day he found me covered in blood?

  I have no doubt in my mind that he has.

  But it’s no longer just about me, now is it?

  His chocolate eyes track my movement, the same ones that used to give me courage now feeding me dread. Just the sound of my stilettos clicking at an even rhythm on the marble disturbs the quiet blanketing the room. No one is even breathing, their attention centered on me. Astara had it right from the start.

  A lamb amid a pack of wolves.

  What they don’t know is that this lamb has teeth. And it bites back.