Derrick looked torn. He lifted his hands as if he planned on reaching for me again, but they fell to his sides.
“This conversation isn’t over,” he rasped before backing away with a frustrated growl.
No, it wasn’t. But I worried where it would lead. Working together could tear us apart.
Edward came up behind me and patted my hand. “I rescued this from the study. Maybe it will cheer you up, my dear.” His tone was soothing as he pressed the grimoire into my hands and gave me an encouraging smile.
“Thank you, Edward,” I whispered, struggling against the tears that threatened to give me away. “Be careful. All of you.” My gaze tracked to Derrick, whose back was rigid while he issued final instructions to Andrew.
“I’ll keep my eye on him, don’t worry. We’ll return unscathed with Richard in tow—you’ll see. Everything will work out.”
I wasn’t so sure, but I appreciated the attempt.
With the plans finalized, the two search parties filed out of the room. At the last moment, Derrick looked over his shoulder. Our gazes locked, but I couldn’t read his expression. The realization terrified me because I could always tell just from a look how he was feeling.
But not this time.
Hugging the grimoire to my chest, I followed the others into the drawing room and took a seat by the hearth. The two housemaids, huddled together, whispered among themselves while Cynthia comforted Lila on the sofa. Isabelle did her best to appear concerned, but I could tell she was still thrilled by my public argument with Derrick. And why shouldn’t she be? She hadn’t even had to come between us, we’d done a fine job all by ourselves.
Time seemed to slow. The longer Derrick and the others were gone, the higher the tension ratcheted in the room. It was hard to sit idle knowing they were out there and I couldn’t do anything to help.
After a while, Lila began to sob, and the sound of her grief mixed with the staccato tick of ice against the windowpanes.
Tuning it out, I turned my attention to the grimoire and ran my hands over the thick leather cover. The raised symbols sent frissons of energy through my fingers, and the book itself had a magnetic draw I couldn’t help but respond to.
I skimmed through the pages, becoming engrossed with the numerous spells. There was a little bit of everything inside, including a guide on creating mystical talismans, magical potions, and even a section on invoking demons. Not that I planned on invoking any of those tonight. We already had our hands full with a good old-fashioned murder.
But there was something that had been bothering me ever since I found Edward’s cigar cutter in the Snows’ sitting room. It was odd that so many objects had gone missing in such a short period. I would have chalked it up to thievery, but the objects weren’t worth much on their own and were more personal in nature.
It was that personal detail that had tripped my mind. There were endless examples of spells that used personal objects, whether it was a lock of hair, a drop of blood, or even something sentimental. But it wasn’t a spell I was searching for. No—I was looking for something a little more permanent.
If what I suspected was true, it would change everything about this case.
Derrick had mentioned it was Mae outside retrieving the apple I’d dropped in the snow and then she was murdered with it a short time later. An awful coincidence on the surface, except it didn’t explain the missing haircomb I’d found in her hand. It was as if the killer had placed it there. But why return it? Unless…they didn’t need it anymore.
Call it witch’s intuition, but I had a sneaking suspicion I wasn’t the only one practicing magic at Fairwood Manor.
Bad Luck, meet my good friend Irony.
I slowed when I came to the section on aforementioned demons, skipped through the spirits, faeries, and mermaids, and finally found what I was searching for.
There.
My finger ran down the page, pausing at the creature that had teased the back of my mind. Shapeshifters. Magical beings that could take the form of others. Reading through the entry, my nerves fired when I spotted a significant detail.
“In many cases, personal belongings can be used to steal someone’s form. A type of glamour magic that fades once the object is returned.”
What if it wasn’t Mae outside at all, but someone who looked like her? Had Richard shapeshifted to disguise his activities and then killed Mae to prevent her from revealing the truth about the stolen funds? If he had, it was possible he could shift again, allowing him to escape undetected.
Dread pooled in my stomach. The search parties didn’t know what they were walking into. I had to warn Derrick. They could be ambushed by one of their own. Richard had already killed once; he’d do it again if it meant his freedom.
Something crashed to the floor, and I looked up to find Lila reaching for a porcelain figurine perched on an end table. She lifted it into the air and threw it down next to its twin. Porcelain shards scattered across the floorboards.
“Lila, please calm down.” Cynthia raised her palms, trying to soothe her friend.
“You knew about the affair—don’t lie to me! And now, that woman is dead.” She charged toward the hearth and grabbed an iron poker, swinging it wildly through the air. Her eyes were manic and tearstained. “We’re ruined!”
“Mother, stop!” Isabelle tried to get closer, but something flashed in Lila’s gaze, and she whipped the poker in front of her, stopping Isabelle in her tracks.
