I held her up, looking past her.

  Selma was on her knees next to a body.

  Grant’s body.

  “Is he…” The rest of the words wouldn’t form, not that they had to.

  “He’s dead.” Selma placed her hand on Grant’s face, closing his eyes. “Murdered.”

  “How?” Amelie demanded.

  “Amelie—” Selma started.

  Amelie lunged out of my arms. “How? Tell me how.”

  “Strangled. He was strangled.”

  I wanted to get Amelie out of the room, but I didn’t. Instead, I walked forward, closer to the body.

  Grant’s neck was marred and bruised, but there was no evidence of someone having used hands to do the deed.

  There were too many people around at that moment to ask Selma if a poltergeist could have done this.

  Amelie turned into my chest, and I held her.

  In the face of another dead descendant, she was suddenly frail in my eyes.

  Whoever was behind killing Melody and Grant would not get to her. Not while I was around.

  I held her tighter as my gaze roved over those present.

  Troy was there with Victor.

  There was no sign of Peter until I heard his complaint from the doorway, trying to get into the room. He was out of breath and pale. When he spotted Grant, he sagged.

  Victor and Troy both went to him, but Amelie stayed with me.

  I watched Peter closely. The creepy vibe I sensed from him that first day was still there.

  And now, it was only growing worse as the fight in the dungeon came back to me.

  That voice hadn’t been Peter.

  No matter how much I disliked him, I wasn’t going to outright accuse of him of murder. There was no proof, but damned if I wasn’t going to keep a much closer eye on him.

  Eight

  Amelie

  Melody was dead. Grant was dead. This had to be some twisted nightmare. Had to be. How could they both be dead? Not just dead. Murdered. Someone in this mansion murdered them. We had the funeral rites for Grant the same way we had for Melody, only this time I wasn’t simply sad or grieving. It was like I’d gone numb to the world around me. I walked and talked, but the words weren’t mine. My movements were strange. Tank tried to talk to me, but I wasn’t fully there. After a while, he would stop talking and merely hold my hand or sit with me.

  The first night, he stayed with me, and we passed out on the couch. The next night, I thought fresh air and some alone time would help clear my mind. Only there was no such thing as alone time, not anymore. Having Tank around was comforting at first. Then I realized he was everywhere. He followed me no matter where I went. He kept his distance, but he was still there.

  On the third day, I ground my teeth as I made my way down the corridor, sensing his eyes on me. Even though I couldn’t see him, he was nearby. I wanted to investigate Grant’s and Melody’s rooms, but when I attempted to go in, Tank’s hand covered mine.

  “What are you doing?” He crossed his arms, blocking me from the door with this broad frame.

  “I want to see what’s in there.”

  “I already looked. With Selma. We found nothing at all. No evidence just like with Melody.”

  “But you said you saw the poltergeist come from there. If that’s true, there’d be residual magic left behind.”

  “And if there was, Selma already found it.”

  “Tank move.” I planted my hands on my hips when he refused to budge. “Don’t make me use magic on you.”

  He huffed. “Good luck with that.”

  “I will.”

  “You don’t need to go in there. In fact, why don’t you go hang out in the greenhouses.”

  “Why? So you can watch over me there too?”

  “Two descendants have been killed. I’m making sure there isn’t a third.”

  “You do remember that I’m a witch, right?” I reached for the door again.

  He picked me up by my shoulders and set me back a few feet.

  “Will you stop treating me like I’m fragile?”

  “Melody was a witch. Grant was a warlock. Whoever’s doing this is obviously strong, stronger than them. Possibly stronger than you.” He was quieter when he spoke next. “We don’t know who’s doing it. Anyone could be the murderer. You realize that, right?”

  “The poltergeist.”

  “Even you don’t believe that.”

  Selma had spoken to the coven the day before, ensuring everyone the issue was being dealt with. She and the rest of the older witches and warlocks were busy cleansing the castle. That had also been going on for the past twenty-four hours. Selma told us that though it was rare, there was a chance a poltergeist could grow strong enough to kill people. If the spirit was tainted, dark, had turned evil, it could be driven to kill. All the evidence pointed to the poltergeist, so most believed it.

  Except for Tank.

  And me too, but that was beside the point.

  The cloaked figure he saw could’ve been another spirit. Or the poltergeist addled his mind. It might not have been there at all, but he was not convinced that a ghost was the murderer.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I never said you couldn’t—where are you going now?” He fell in step beside me as I stormed away. “Amelie.”

  “I just want to do a little poking around.”

  “Why? If you think it’s the poltergeist?”

  The temptation to cast a small curse on him to wipe that smug look off his face was strong. I had to get away from him. Just for a little while. I ducked into my room, leaving the door open.

  Tank followed me in.

  “Go away.”

  “No,” he replied and leaned against the wall like a sentry.

  “Gah! Are all dragons like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Overprotective. Man,” I muttered, stomping toward him. “Now I get it. All those times Everest complained about Slade being so overprotective, I thought it was romantic. Now I get it. You all are trying to drive us insane.”

  “And if Jared were here instead of me?” he asked quietly. “What do you think he’d be doing?”

  I was about to say not this but clamped my mouth shut so loud my teeth clacked together.

  Tank lowered his head as he sighed. “Precisely. And yes, we’re overprotective of those we care about. Sorry, love, part of being with a dragon. Not sure what you expected.”

  Aggravated, I reached up as if to strangle him, then strode away. “Why won’t you let me help? I fought by your side during the war, remember that? Kicked a ton of ass.”

  His lips twitched, but otherwise, he remained steadfast at the door. “And?”

  “And what’s the difference?”

  “The difference is this murderer is targeting descendants specifically. Don’t even say it,” he added throwing his hand up and glancing out the doorway. “You and I both know Selma’s only telling people it’s a poltergeist to try and keep everyone calm.”

  “I fail to see why you trusted me with your life back then, but now you don’t.”

  “It’s not my life in the balance here.”

  It was like a switch flipped within me at his words. They weren’t mean, or harsh, but they struck me deep to my core. I wasn’t good enough to protect my own ass. To save my own life if it came down to it. I needed a great big, broad-shouldered, handsome dragon to keep me alive.

  That was the biggest bunch of bull I ever heard.

  “Out.” For emphasis, I pointed toward the doorway.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Out.”

  He clenched his jaw, but exited, closing the door behind him with a loud thud.

  I hurried behind him to lock it. Not to keep him out, but I wasn’t an idiot either. Two people were dead, and I was not going to be a third.

  I aimlessly meandered around my room for a while, then fell onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

  Tank hadn’t meant anything by what he said, I knew that, but it took me all the way back to those fights against Radnak all the same.

  Most of the time, I stayed behind, at the base, to be there for the wounded when they returned. I was a great healer, it was true, but everyone back then overlooked my magic abilities. Fighting alongside Everest made me look like I was nothing. I loved her like a sister, but there were times when I wondered if I was good enough.

  I held my hands over my head and snapped my fingers. An array of green and violet magic erupted, twirling around each other. I smiled, thinking of Tank’s fire joining it, as it had on our last flight. I shouldn’t have kicked him out of my room but wasn’t about to admit that quite yet.

  He had to understand that I was a damned good witch.

  Once Selma and the others finished their cleansing ritual, whoever killed Melody and Grant might strike again, only this time there would be no poltergeist to claim as a decoy. That was our chance to catch the actual culprit red-handed.

  Tank needed me beside him.

  Now all I had to do was convince him.

  After falling asleep on the couch, I awoke sometime in the middle of the night.

  Moonlight poured through the windows.

  I sat up with all intention of traipsing to the bed and going back to sleep. Except a strange tug in my gut had me heading to my door.

  A grumble came from the other side

  I opened it slowly.

  Legs stretched out into the corridor, and there sleeping on the cold stone, his back to the wall and arms crossed, was Tank. He really wasn’t going to leave my side until this mystery was solved.

  “Stubborn indeed.”

  Careful not to wake him, I let my magic wrap gently around his body and pick him up. I maneuvered him through the door and placed him on the couch.

  He shifted and rolled over, but otherwise remained asleep.

  I draped a throw blanket over him then kissed his forehead.

  He grinned and for a second, I thought he was awake, but his breathing never changed, and his eyes stayed closed.

  I poked my head into the hallway, but it was empty.

  After the door was closed and locked, I fell into bed and started to fall asleep.

  Tank let out a loud snore, and I went back to bed with a smile on my face.

  The following morning, breakfast was a somber affair. Even with the completed ritual for the castle cleansing, most remained worried and watchful. The cheer we found after Melody’s death was gone, replaced by a heavy cloud of paranoia and fear. Selma summoned Victor, Troy, Peter, Tank, and me to her private chambers.

  The moment the door closed behind us, she sighed, holding her face in her hands. “We must send everyone home.”

  “What? We can’t do that. It means we’re giving up,” I exclaimed. “Selma.”

  “We’ve cleansed the castle, but if this killer is persistent enough, he will find another way to carry out his evil deeds. We used the ritual to search every inch of this castle. Every inch. We’ve spoken to everyone. There are no leads, no clues, nothing to help us understand who did this.” Selma sat back heavily in the wing-backed chair. “If we do not send people home, then we will have to call in the Hunters to keep us safe during our own gathering. You know the type of fear that will instill in the entire coven?”

  “And who says they’ll stop when the gathering is over,” Victor added. “Many of us live here full time.”

  “Guards. We’ve never needed guards. Not here.” Selma tapped her fingers loudly on the arm of the chair. “I have no other choice. If we all leave, the killer will too.”

  “Abandon our home?” I couldn’t be hearing her right. “When was the last time that occurred?”

  “Never.”

  “Exactly. We can’t do it now, just because one asshole thinks he or she can pick us off. There has to be a way to find him. Flush him out.”

  “You are not going to use yourself as bait.” Tank glowered at me. “Amelie.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that.”

  “The hell you weren’t. You are not going to put yourself in that situation.”

  I rolled my eyes at him and was ready to give him a piece of my mind about still being ungodly overprotective.

  Peter cleared his throat.

  Changing tactics, I said, “I say we try the lockdown. Go over the entire castle again. Talk to every witch and warlock again. The staff, too. There has to be an explanation.”

  “That could take days.”

  “But if it gets us to the person responsible?” I pleaded with Selma. “Let us try. Please.” I wrung my hands.

  Selma’s face was unreadable as she glanced from me to Peter then back again.

  I tried again. “Do you really want to abandon your home so easily? After all, we’ve been through these last few years?”

  “Fine. We will go over every inch of the castle again. We will interrogate everyone. And I mean everyone starting with you four just to be certain.”

  “Five,” Peter added, shooting a glare to Tank.

  Tank shrugged. “Ask away. I have no problems being questioned.”

  I wanted to argue against it, but I would have to be questioned, too. Selma walked to the door and pulled on the rope. A knock sounded a few seconds later, and Lucius was there.

  “Send for the High Council,” she told him. “All of them.”

  “Right away.” Lucius bowed low, turned, and bustled away.

  This was going to be a very long day. A hand squeezed mine, and I didn’t even have to turn to know it was Tank.

  “Can I steal a minute before we’re separated?”

  “Sure.” I tugged him to the side of the room, away from prying ears.

  “Yesterday, what I said… I’m sorry if it hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I know. Just another reminder that I’m not the best witch in the world.”

  “When are you going to stop comparing yourself to Everest?” he demanded.

  I froze.

  “You are an incredible witch. You’re strong and powerful all on your own. I just don’t want to lose you. Not now when it feels like I’ve got you back.”

  His words warmed me. “Back?”

  “Yeah, back. That day at the end of the battle, I imagined us walking away from it, hand-in-hand, but I was too much of a coward to tell you what I felt then. Look what happened. We spent three years trying to be happy.”

  “And failing for the most part.”

  He grinned. “Exactly. I want to see where this goes. Don’t you?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Good, then please don’t take it personally when I want to be there as extra protection. I can’t lose someone else. I can’t lose you.”

  He drew me into his arms, and I kissed his cheek. Being surrounded by his warmth was never going to grow old. As much as his overbearing attitude wore on me the last couple of days, it was nice to have someone looking out for me and protecting me. Especially a great burly bear of a dragon such as Tank. The image made me laugh, and he gave me a funny look.

  “Tell you later,” I promised.

  He set me back as the door opened and the rest of the High Council arrived to begin the questioning.

  I went first. Selma requested everyone else to leave. They asked me where I was when Melody was killed. If I saw anything suspicious before or afterward. They asked about the night Grant was killed. The questions went on and on, but since I wasn’t the killer, I was far from nervous.

  When I was finished, the heavy magic pressing in on me vanished. The High Council was not taking any chances of letting a lie slip past them.

  “Thank you, Amelie, if you would send the next person in,” Selma requested.

  Tank went in next. I told him I’d be right outside and wait for him. His session went far faster than mine did. Peter entered the room after him, leaving Victor and Troy in the corridor. I didn’t want to stand there and do nothing, so snagged Tank, and we wandered away from Selma’s quarters back to the floor with our rooms. I still wanted to check out Melody’s and Grant’s rooms. I waited for Tank to stop me, but this time he didn’t. Melody’s seemed okay, but Grant’s was strange. As soon as Tank and I stepped over the threshold, a chill shot down my spine.

  “It’s still cold in here,” he said.

  “Didn’t expect it to be.” Shutting my eyes, I held out my hands and walked another few steps into the room. I waited to feel any hint of magic, but there was nothing. In fact, there was an absence of any magic ever having been cast in this room. “Huh, weird.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s like no magic was ever cast here before. Ever. Not by Grant or anyone.”

  “Someone’s been cleaning house then. Did you feel it in Melody’s room, too?”

  I hadn’t, but didn’t try either. We hurried back to her room.

  I shook my head. “Same here. Whoever did it is strong, too strong to be below the rank of six, I would say.”

  “Ranks? You have ranks?”

  “We don’t use them too much unless we’re with the coven. Only certain witches and warlocks can perform certain levels of magic. Stops those not ready from pushing too hard and hurting themselves.”

  “Then who does that leave?”

  I mentally pictured who that would leave. “Witches and warlocks who are full-blooded, around the age of twenty or older. With old family names like mine. Around thirty, or so?”

  “That’s a large suspect pool.”

  “Sorry. That’s the truth of it.”

  “And you can’t think of anyone who hated Melody or Grant?”

  I almost told him about Victor and Grant’s discussion about Peter the other day, but Tank already didn’t like Peter. In the state of mind he was in, he might lean toward his being guilty, even though he wasn’t. Anyway, Peter had agreed with me about the lockdown and search.

  “No,” I said when I realized I hadn’t answered him. “No one.”

  Tank’s narrowed eyes said he didn’t believe me, but he let it go. We left Melody’s room and walked the length of the corridor. If I suggested checking out the dungeons, I wasn’t sure he’d go for it. Instead, we wandered outside to the grounds.

 

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