Page 137 of Fallen Court

“I’m just playing with your doll,” she said more loudly.

“It’s not a doll.” It especially was not my doll. I unlocked the door to find her holding the effigy, a loose tangle of thread hanging from it. “It’s—”

Ciara looked up and froze, dropping it in the process. Then she screamed.

“What the hell…” I covered my ears, wincing at the shrill cry, and my fingers brushed a bit of hard, pointy cartilage. For a second, I simply stood there, afraid to move, afraid to touch it again. It wasn’t possible.

Ever so slowly, I felt the tops of my ears again.

But they weren’t my ears.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Lach

I should have been happy. I was happy.

But dread crept up my neck as I caught up with other matters at my desk, sneaking past the joy I’d allowed myself to feel for all of five minutes. The murderer had been caught and punished. There hadn’t been a single complaint from any of the covens today. Cate had actually said yes. And a new bit of good news had arrived in the form of a text from Fiona. I’d missed it while I was seeing Cate and Ciara off.

I think we found something. Might be a long shot, but we’ll call you in the morning.

Things were going too well. That usually meant that shit was about to hit the fan.

But despite the uneasiness lingering in the back of my mind, I stopped myself. There were half a dozen bills scattered in front of me that needed to be paid. I had plenty to do. Whatever Fiona had discovered could wait.

I found myself reaching for my phone anyway. I wouldn’t be able to get in touch with anyone in Prague directly. They would have returned to court for the night, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. I had half a mind to send Roark there to get their asses out of bed. Now I understood why Shaw had been annoyed by my late-night message to everyone.

As if summoned by the thought alone, Roark popped his head into my office, delivering me from my dilemma.

“I was just going to call you,” I said, dropping the invoice in my hand. “Let’s get a drink.” I could be patient. Besides, Fiona had said it was probably nothing, and no doubt there would be a crisis to deal with soon enough. Maybe I should take a break while I could and live like Cate had demanded.

But he was biting back a smile. “Um, there’s a tiny, angry witch here to see you.”

“I heard that.” Willow pushed past him, her arms full of large, rolled-up papers. She scowled at Roark, completely unintimidated that he was practically twice her size. “And I’m not angry. It’s just my resting witch face.”

He stared down at her with bemused surprise before cocking his head in my direction, waiting for instructions on what to do with her.

“Cate is out shopping with my sister,” I told Willow, shuffling the bills into a stack before sticking them in a drawer. “She’d probably welcome a reason to get out of it if you want to call her.”

I was trying not to take it personally that Cate had looked like she was going on a death march when she left, rather than wedding dress shopping.

Willow continued inside and dropped everything onto my desk. “I’m not here to see her. I’m here to see you.”

I shifted in my chair, curiosity getting the better of me as she opened a map. Just what I needed: a presentation. But I pinned a bland smile on my face and gestured for her to continue as Roark stepped into the doorway, leaning against it to hear what she had to say.

“I’ve been looking into the murders.”

She might as well have turned a firehose on me. Roark straightened up and crossed his arms, tattoos starting to swirl. “You…what?”

It took me a second to process what she had said. I shook off my surprise and slid the map toward her. “I appreciate your concern, but the culprit has been dealt with.”

Willow smashed her mouth into an unimpressed line as she smoothed out the map. It looked like it was a hundred years old—at least. “That’s the bad news. I don’t think that’s true.”

So much for a day without the covens. I wasn’t sure what sounded worse: fielding complaints or hearing conspiracy theories.

I swallowed back a sigh of frustration. Willow had tried to help Cate. The least I could do was hear her out. “Show me what you have.”

“Am I annoying you?” Her eyes narrowed to frustrated slashes. “Because if you want me to leave, I can. I just thought maybe you’d want to stop murder number five, but if I’m annoying you, I’ll leave.”