Page 76 of Mortdale

“Never enough necklaces, huh?”

“Never.”

I tipped my head back to look at her. “I’ve not seen you wear any of them. Where are they?”

She bit her inner cheek. “In my room.”

“You sure you didn’t hand the Darkheim orphanage headmistress a bag of rubies on your last journey there?”

She smothered a small wince. “Children love rubies.”

“I’m sure they loved your diamonds, too.”

“Especially the diamonds.” Her dark eyes nearly swallowed me whole. “You’re not mad?”

“You can spend our money however you like.”

Her smile was shy, reserved. “I will need that in writing.” Her nightgown had slid down her shoulder, the front tied loosely and revealing the soft lines of her breasts as she picked up the flat silver pendant resting against my chest. “A star,” she murmured, brushing her thumb over it. “It’s pretty.”

“The north star. It was a gift from my sister when I was a naval commander.” Cassandra had always been the softer of us four while simultaneously enduring the most. Which in return had hardened her into something stronger than steel. She could always put on a brave face when needed. Always there with the right words. Knowing the right way of things. My brothers and I would call her our north star. When we felt lost, she was always there to guide us back. And then she died. Stuck me with a two-month-old baby and died. Just like that.

My attention lifted from my wife’s breasts when she tentatively brought the pendant to her lips, pressing a soft kiss on it. “I was thinking,” she said, gently lowering the pendant over my chest and brushing her fingers over it. “I want to come with you tomorrow to the city hall. None of the notes you’ve given me are any good help to me. I need to see bodies. Blood. Samples. Toenail clippings. Hair that’s preferably from their head. Their bath water too, if you have it. Anything that can hold some connection to them.”

“We dispose of the bodies as quickly as we can.”

“That’s your first mistake.”

“We can’t risk it. But the crown coroners have collected samples. I’ll take you tomorrow. I do have to warn you—they have found no valuable answer or result in their tests. The coroner said the madness almost presents itself as part of our biology. All tests they have run appear to be within normal parameters. Nothing unusual physically.”

“They haven’t looked far enough,” she said, sitting on the arm of my chair, and I had to wrap an arm around her waist to stop her from slipping off.

“You think this is the work of the occult, but we can smell magic. Hexes, charms, potions. It is why we haven’t come to any conclusion that this could be the work of a witch or the fae.”

She spun a coil of grey hair between her fingers. “And curses? Could you smell a curse?”

“You think this could be some sort of curse on my kind?”

She shrugged. “You didn’t answer me.”

“Maybe.”

She swallowed hard, evading my gaze. “Chaos is not magic. You’re accustomed to chaos because it exists everywhere. In you, too. There are things that affect chaos. Things you can use to trigger chaos within one’s body to react.”

“Like?”

“Poisons being one of them. Toxins, harsh chemicals, heat. There’s a lot.”

“I’ll call in a favour. Have them keep a body for you.”

She squealed, warm dark eyes eating almost the entirety of the white sclera. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Better than Christof’s bones?”

She slowly undid my tie and stood, wrapping it around her neck. “I know it was you who found them for me.” She poked her head through the doors before she drew them shut. “Thank you. I love them. They make me happy.”

My wife seemed to be the next Mortdale celebrity. Every vendor knew her by name. They'd stopped and chatted with her all the way to the city hall.

“I thought you weren’t good at making friends,” I said, following her at a distance, watching her hop around the streets and make small talk with the city folk.