Derrick gripped Vivian with shaking hands. His shout of denial echoed off the walls. The candles flared, bathing the room in flashes of white light, and Vivian’s body shuddered before she slowly regained consciousness. Derrick helped her to a chair, steadying her until she could stay upright.
“What happened?” she groaned, placing a hand at her temple. “Sophie’s gone. I can’t feel her anymore. Did she say anything?”
With eyes closed, Derrick’s face contorted in pain. “I need a minute.” He staggered from the room. I wanted to follow but couldn’t leave Vivian.
“Go,” she said. “I’m all right.”
I squeezed her fingers. “I’ll be back.”
Abrams waited outside, his lanky frame leaning against a lamppost. He watched me travel down the steps, searching the near-empty street for Derrick.
“Happy now?” he asked.
“Where did he go?”
“Around back. Through the gate.” He grabbed my arm before I could leave, fingers digging into my skin. “What did she say?”
I tried to shake him off, but his grip tightened.
He shouted again, “What did she say?”
“Let me go. You’re hurting me.”
Abrams loosened his grip, and I stepped back, rubbing a hand over my wrist. He clenched his fists, bringing his emotions in check.
“Who is Sophie to Derrick?” I asked quietly.
“He didn’t tell you? Sophie was Derrick’s sister.”
His answer stunned me. It made sense now. Derrick’s determination to solve the case ran deeper than preventing a murderer from striking again. His anguish at Olivia Lockwood’s accusations—even his drive to keep me safe—stemmed from the same well of guilt. He hadn’t been able to solve his sister’s murder, and each subsequent one reopened the scar.
“I didn’t know. I need to talk to him. Can you sit with Vivian? She shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Abrams nodded reluctantly. “I told you this was a bad idea.”
Maybe it was, but it was too late now. Seeing Sophie invade Vivian’s body had affected me more than I realized. Her words from beyond the grave tore at my heart, and more than anything, I wanted to comfort Derrick.
I found him standing in the small patch of Vivian’s back yard, looking up at the sliver of the moon. He heard me approach but didn’t turn around.
“I should have told you. I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t apologize. It’s hard to talk about the people we’ve loved and lost. Even the happy memories are torture.” I sat on a stone bench. “Can you tell me about her?”
Derrick sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Sophie was stubborn and reckless, always getting into trouble, but it was impossible to stay mad at her. Everyone loved her. My parents doted on her, and I was her big brother, the person who was always supposed to look out for her.”
Solemn, I nodded my head for him to continue.
“We’d been at the country house for a week, attending the king’s feast and annual hunt. The whole village was excited—except for Sophie. She’d been acting strange, sullen. It wasn’t like her. I was preoccupied with preparing to leave for training abroad.”
“Because you’d been accepted into the agency?”
“That’s right. The morning I was supposed to leave, Sophie barely said a word. She always told me everything. Most times, I couldn’t get her to stop talking, but that morning, she was closed off. I teased her, thinking I could get a rise out of her, but she became furious. She stormed off, and that was the last time I saw her.”
“She wasn’t there when you left?”
“No. It wasn’t until much later that I found out she’d gone missing that day. The search lasted almost a week before they found her. I wasn’t informed until I returned home a month later. By then, my parents were destroyed, and her case was cold.”
“I’m so sorry.” I rubbed my arms, the night chill settling in my bones.
