He knows.
She cursed internally. He wasn’t showing an ounce of concern. If he was that calm, he must’ve already figured a way around her spell even if she were to try it.
Or he wasn’t guilty.
Katherine’s anger buzzed as Byron sat down across from her, leaning back with a satisfied sigh.
“I’m glad to hear you’re happy in Aestas,” she said. “I know you were friends with Joe. His recent arrest must have been—”
“Tragic,” Byron interrupted. Her eyes snapped up at him, but he shrugged lazily. “That he would resort to something so low.”
She ground her teeth. His tactics were so transparently designed to push her buttons, and she hated herself for letting it work. What was she doing? Why was she letting him win?
“And I don’t think he was doing it alone,” she said.
“My goodness.” Byron’s voice dripped with fake concern. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, for one thing, he’s a grade-A blockhead who can’t even manage to make coffee, let alone do complicated old magic.”
Byron chuckled. “Yes, I suppose you do need to be quite intelligent to make altum.”
It was the smug grin that did it. It was so sure, a smile built on a lifetime of never having to worry that he was anything other than the top dog. She might not have the altum tracking spell as proof, but that smile was all she needed.
“Now, I never said that. I think you’d actually have to be quite dense.”
Byron’s eyes flashed. “And why is that?”
“Because I catch everyone who makes altum. Even if it takes a while. Eventually, they slip up. And I’m there.”
There was a twitch in Byron’s jaw, and Katherine could see what was going through his head—that fragile ego of his demanding that he tell her she’d never get him. That he was going to be the one to get awaywith it. That she didn’t stand a chance against his superior resources and intellect.
They’d see about that.
“Anyway,” she said, pushing her chair back and standing up, “I’ve been going around asking prominent members of the coven to come to me with any information they may hear.”
Byron blinked, the moment of anger fading from his face. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll do just that.”
“Thanks, Byron.” Katherine headed toward the door, then turned back to him. “Stay safe out there. With so much going on in the city, I’d hate for you to get caught up in anything nasty.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Silas sat across from Sylvia and tried to figure out how to accuse her of a crime.
He’d left his dinner with Katherine feeling certain. Certain that Sylvia, no matter her faults, was a good person. A person who had taken care of Katherine, and who’d had to make tough decisions to take care of other kids like her, all at great personal risk. At the risk of being ostracized and targeted by people like his parents. People like him.
He wanted to be better than that. He wanted to be fair. So he was going to give Sylvia a chance to make it right.
He just had to make sure she believed that was actually what he was doing, that this wasn’t a betrayal. The fact that her hands were fisted tight on the desk suggested that was not going to be an easy task.
He pulled Sylvia’s caster out of his pocket and rested it on the surface in front of him. Her eyes went wide.
“I thought you might want this back,” he said.
She tried to cover, but there was a flash of something almost like sadness in her eyes as she reached for the knife and took it in her hand. Silas knew the last few days must have been incredibly stressful for her. Witches could do magic with anything that could cut into their skin, but to do it without your caster felt inherently wrong. To know that it was missing, that someone could find it—thathecould find it—must have left her reeling.
“Thank you.” Her voice gave nothing away.
“I found it in the police evidence from the Hollywood and Highland attack.”
