“If you can’t help but question me, our arrangement isn’t going to work.” The unreasonably attractive man’s green eyes flashed as his voice came out a growl.
Easton swiped at his forehead nervously, his face pale.
I moved forward, sacrificing my view of Easton to get closer to the other man. He wasn’t from Austen Heights either—I’d remember if I’d seen that sharp jawline or those mesmerizing eyes—so then what was he doing here? Was he part of that group of highborn fae Riley had mentioned?
The man shook his head, revealing slightly pointed ears.
A fae, then. I took back all of my previous comments about his sexiness.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” The fae’s eyes narrowed to match his gravelly voice.
What had Easton done? Despite myself, curiosity urged me closer, but I was still a good fifteen feet away. Even though they couldn’t see me in a Portent, getting too close always made me feel exposed.
“I had no choice.” Easton swayed under the fae’s glare but said nothing. What was Easton’s race? I couldn’t see his ears to confirm if they were pointed.
The fae stepped toward Easton, blue magic streaming from his fingers and into Easton’s chest.
Easton made a choking noise and collapsed to one knee. His eyes rolled backward, and he slumped forward, hitting the ground with a soft thud.
The dark-haired fae dropped to his knees and held a hand to Easton’s throat, his expression determined. Was he checking for a pulse to make sure he was dead?
The glow in Easton’s veins flickered out.
I gasped and stepped back, hiding behind the gazebo once more even though I was invisible. Had I really witnessed a murder? Then again, I wouldn’t put it past a fae to kill.
Was that what my Portent had wanted me to see?
I jolted awake in bed and sat up, covered in a cold sweat. Thoughts as turbulent as the bay at high tide swirled in my head while my heart pounded wildly. If only my Portents showed the future instead of the present. At least then I’d have a chance to save that man.
But now it was too late. Easton was dead.
Ice numbed my chest at the callous way that dark-haired fae had stolen a life, but I shoved the fear back and let resolve take its place. It didn’t matter that Easton was a stranger. I couldn’t sit back and do nothing afterwhat I’d witnessed. My fingers curled into fists where they rested on top of my quilt.
Normally, I hated my Portents, but now I’d love nothing more than to use my ability to bring down that fae murderer.
Chapter 2
Atworkthenextmorning, I glanced at a picture of Pastor Collins standing next to a happy couple. His frown matched my mood since I was stuck here typing up wedding announcements instead of investigating the murder.
I put my hands on my keyboard to finish my last one for the day.
Maria Bertram and James Rushworth were united in marriage on October 1st at St. James’s Church in Austen Heights, Maine. The bride is the daughter of Thomas and Nicole Bertram, and the groom is the son of Edison and Lillian Rushworth. Following the ceremony, officiated byPastor Collins, a reception was held at Cedar Cove Inn. The couple will continue to reside in Austen Heights.
With a sigh, I stretched my arms over my head, cracking my neck and shoulders. Once Maxine approved my pieces, they’d join the rest of the articles waiting to be printed on the hexed press. It was capable of finding typos and printing at twice the speed of a normal press but was infamous for refusing to print stories it considered boring. Honestly, it was a miracle the wedding announcements made it through.
Despite the drumming of rain on the tin roof, I ignored the urge to pull on the fleece blanket I kept over my chair and glanced around the room. Half of the wooden desks had journalists typing away while the rest sat empty. I didn’t envy those chasing down leads in this weather, which had rolled in out of nowhere.
With the day’s work complete, I pulled out my notebook. After I’d been unable to go back to sleep last night, I’d pored over pictures on Zillow and Airbnb to find the house from my Portent. Donwell Abbey and Kellynch Hall had matched the estate’s grandness but lacked the telltale lake on the property.
I spent the next hour scouring the internet furiously for the house, anything I could find on the name “Easton,” and even “Charles Bingley.” My gut told me that the timing was too coincidental for the murder not to be connected to the highborn who’d come to town.
Unfortunately, I didn’t find anything more than I had last night. If only I’d heard the name of the other man. The desire to figure out the killer’s identity tugged at me like a spell waiting to be cast, but I was stuck unless I stumbled upon more information.
My eyelids drooped as my sleepless night caught up with me, and I yawned so wide my jaw cracked. To keep from falling face-first onto my keyboard, I put my notebook away and pushed myself to my feet. I grabbed my old Halloween mug and headed to the break room. In the corner, two coworkers chatted about the Bingleys’ arrival in Austen Heights. All morning, the Marked and Unmarked in the office had buzzed with speculation on why the group of highborn fae had come. But I hadn’t heard a single whisper about a murder. The fae from my Portent must’ve been covering his tracks.
I put water in the magical teapot that heated it to a boil almost instantly and lit a pumpkin spice candle. My feet itched to be on my way, hunting down my scoop before anyone else stole it, but leaving now wouldn’t do me any good without more of a direction to follow.
The kettle let out a loud whistle, and I poured the hot water into my mug over the bag of caramel spice tea. Steam curled around me as I pulled a small vial from my pocket and poured a single drop of the clear liquid into my mug. The sunburst serum gave me a shot of energy to replace the fact that I couldn’t drink caffeine, which made my magic go haywire. As an added bonus, the potion made my tea smell like my favorite memories. Today’s dose brought back the rainy day I’d spent with Dad in his library debating one of our favorite books.
