He really should be cutting me some slack. I didn’t kill anyone this time around.
Well, not his brother, anyway, who I’m sure matters a lot more to him than Kenneth Hearst.
Yet somehow this reality’s bonding with him is off to an even worse start.
I can’t help thinking of the Cole I left behind: stern and stoic in his grief but still letting a little concern for me seep through even at the beginning.
A jagged twinge of despair scrapes through my gut.
Inhaling slowly, I will the whirling emotions inside me to settle. The mantra that’s steadied me through so many other fraught situations swims up through my thoughts.
I have all I need. I have all I need.
Although really I have a whole lotmorethan I need, at least when it comes to matches.
The arch of the footbridge comes into view up ahead in the dim moonlight. Somewhere behind us, more rainclouds are gathering, apparently unsatisfied with the deluge they dumped on the city earlier. Distant thunder rumbles like a warning.
I pick up my pace automatically, and the men follow suit.
Byron rubs his gloved hand over the tight coils of his hair. “What do we know about Kenneth and his family anyway? I don’t remember hearing of any major conflicts between the Hearsts and the Devines. Are they friendly with other families who might have put Kenneth up to it?”
Salvatore makes a scoffing noise. “You make your high-class bunch sound as bad as the criminal underworld.”
In some ways, it is.
“I have no idea why someone wanted to murder me,” I put in, which isn’t entirely true but close enough. I know this reality’s Elodie was poking around in places she wouldn’t have been welcome, and I followed her footsteps.
I didn’t uncover enough of the trail to figure out why anyone would have been willing—let alone determined—to kill her, though.
Cole’s tone stiffens. “I’m not familiar enough with the ins and outs of the lucent elite’s social politics to guess. But it’ll be more fodder for the police in the investigation already underway.”
Another rumble of thunder carries across the sky. My skin starts to creep despite Asher’s conjured warmth.
By the time we reach the foot of the bridge, it’s clear I judged correctly. Kenneth’s slumped body lies where I left it. Moonlight gleams off the crimson pool that’s spread across the worn boards.
We all hesitate except Salvatore, who’s no stranger to corpses. He strides over, scooping up the switchblade he dropped in the fight and reaching the peak of the bridge before the rest of us stir ourselves into motion.
Kenneth’s knife still protrudes from his chest. Salvatore crouches down to eye it closer up. “That’s military issue,” he says, confirming my suspicion, and waggles a finger toward a logo imprinted in the handle. “Castor Arms.Lucentmilitary,specifically—it’ll have a ton of ephemera embedded. Feels pretty new too, or recently boosted.”
Asher glances at Byron, who’s hung a few steps back. “Do the Hearsts have military ties?”
Byron shakes his head slowly. His face has tightened with a hint of nausea. “Not that I’m aware of.”
Guilt digs into my chest alongside the pull of the bond. I dragged him into this horrific scenario.
Salvatore points at Cole. “You’re the divination prodigy. Get over here and read what the fuck this guy had going on.”
Cole’s jaw clenches, but Salvatore isn’t wrong about the professor’s skills. He trudges closer, the corners of his mouth ticking downward when his shoes squelch into the bloody puddle, and sinks next to the mafia heir.
After a moment, he strips off his gloves so he can examine the body with fewer obstacles. His brow knits with concentration. A halting breath hisses through his teeth.
We all wait in heavy silence while he pinches the bridge of his nose and extends his hands again. He hovers them from Kenneth’s head all the way down to his shoes.
His mouth pulls into a deeper grimace.
“The impressions are more muddled than I’m used to… I think measures were taken to disrupt the ephemera on him. The only clear moments I can glean are leading up to the attack tonight. He was… frustrated with Miss Devine, but I don’t get much sense of outright animosity. It feels like a job he felt strongly compelled to finish for reasons that didn’t have to do with her.”
Salvatore scowls. “So whodidit have to do with?”
