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There was a fine line between the kind of late that annoyed her brother and the kind of late that convinced him she wasn’t coming at all. Avoiding the latter was the only reason Avery walked briskly back toward the chambers reserved for the magistrates. Especially as Justice Norton had proven to be so violently unhelpful.

Was he pleased these women were dying? No, not pleased. In her time of knowing him, Avery was certain she’d never seen him express anything but bitter disappointment and judgment with everything and everyone he saw. Apathetic and without compassion. It was not his business or concern who was killing off those involved in the John Hingley case. Or was it? Fáfnir had suggested the gaze of a basilisk might have done something like this, and basilisk was but another name for a cockatrice.

At least with this meeting she had confirmed her suspicions. Patricia Aldridge, Theresa Abernathy, and Betsey Paris were all involved in the same case as John Hingley. Her remaining objective was clear: Convince Gideon to unseal the file. Failing that, identify the date on which the trial occurred. If the trial took place prior to John Hingley’s death, it spoke to a motive for his murder. If it came after, it was the result of it.

Avery pushed past the double doors and smiled at the faun manning the desk to the five separate chambers. “Blackthorn?”

He peeked down at an appointment book. “A-Avery Hemlock?”

Her reputation continued to precede her. “Against my better judgment.”

The faun looked confused and pointed to the door directly behind him. “I believe he thought you were not going to make it, so he might be getting ready to—”

Avery ignored everything after the point, opening the door without so much as a knock. Not that a knock would have changed anything.

“You are late.” Gideon closed his pocket watch as if he’d been timing the seconds.

“You can thank Wilhelm Norton for that. Had he been more agreeable, I would not have come at all, and we would both be infinitely happier for it.”

Gideon sighed and sat back down in his chair. He was never amused by her wit, regardless of the pains she took to sharpen it. “I was surprised when you called. Are you feeling more open to what I needed to discuss with you?”

“No.” Avery was more open to having several things shoved under her fingernails before wanting to discuss whatever Gideon felt he needed to. “Justice Norton won’t petition for the file on John Hingley to be unsealed. It is obstructing my case, as the two are undeniably linked and allowing me to view even surface details would present me with either a suspect, or future victims I might endeavor to save.”

Gideon steepled his long fingers on the desk. “Did you come to tattle?”

“I came with the hopeful delusion you might listen to reason.”

Gideon’s amusement faltered. “Are you asking for my help?”

“No,” Avery growled. “I am asking you to do your job as a council member, so that I am able to do my job that you hired me to do.”

The smugness returned in force. “Right.” His fingers folded down, interlacing with each other. “Perhaps if you explained how I can better do my job…to help you.”

Avery considered batting the small plant off his desk. The pottery was thin. It would shatter very satisfyingly and leave dark soil all over his pristine floor. Instead, she imagined Bach’s Sonata No. 2 in A Major and her fingers absently began to press against the folders in her hand like they were a fingerboard. “Eighteen years ago, a Mundane by the name of John Hingley died under mysterious circumstances. For whatever reason, the sentinels interfered and covered up any magical foul play. At some point, John Hingley was involved in a trial through our courts. However, I am unable to look at the record, as it was sealed by every member of the council, and the information was then deemed inaccessible. Since one week ago, I have now been to the scenes of two murders that are eerily reminiscent of John Hingley’s death, and both women attended the very university where John Hingley taught. Both women who I have confirmed had a close relationship with another student named Patricia Aldridge around the time of John Hingley’s death. What little information I do have confirms Patricia Aldridge is somehow connected to that sealed file. I imagine if I were to have an assistant look up the names of my two victims, that same sealed file would also surface. It appears these crimes are connected.”

“But without concrete evidence, that theory is merely circumstantial,” Gideon concluded.

“Correct, and the only way of acquiring that evidence would be to have the file unsealed.”

“No,” said Gideon.

“No?” Avery echoed.

“No, it is not the only way,” clarified Gideon. “It is the easiest way.”

Avery had already served two hundred years for killing one Blackthorn. What harm could killing one more really do? “And you have no interest in making it easier for me to solve murders that this government hired me to solve because…?”

“Because easy for you does not mean easy for everyone, Avery.” Gideon sighed. “My part in this case was merely to help seal it, and so while my name is not bound in the record, I cannot speak to it purely in ignorance. However, I am aware that these things are only given such precaution when absolutely necessary.”

“You oversee countless cases a year, how can you be so certain this one wasn’t one of yours?”

“Because I don’t seal countless cases a year. So, to request a gathering to unseal it, I require a more pressing reason.”

“Two women have died, and the third is either my prime suspect or the next victim, what more of a pressing reason do you want?” Avery snapped.

“What are you hoping to find in this record?” Gideon was calm. He was always calm. Like Bach’s sonata, his heart rate seemed at constant andante.

Avery’s fingers held the high D against the folder before descending for the arpeggio. “The connection, my suspect, more victims.”