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The rest of us settled in to wait, but when I exchanged a look with Dorian, I knew he felt the same as me—itching to find the killer ourselves.
Chapter 30
Dorian
That night,Margo’s parents went home to sleep, leaving her with me and Perdita. We stayed up late, speculating, until Perdita went to bed.
She hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. “You know my rules, Dorian.”
I nodded, my face burning.
When she left, Margo said, “What was that about?”
“She doesn’t want us to do anything inappropriate.”
“Wow. Awkward.”
“Moving on.” I slipped onto the seat next to her on the sofa. “Your parents took it well, I thought.”
“They seemed as ready as I was for answers. How could they have gone through my entire life wondering like that?”
“You did the same thing.”
She gazed at her hands. “I suppose I did. What now?”
“We wait to see what happens next.”
“Do you think Victor will find us here?”
“Nah.” It was odd he left the others to track me down alone. What had triggered that? “Are you sure you didn’t see anything else when you… did your thing?”
She made a face. “Mythingis unreliable. I thought of you, of your grief, and then I felt like I was being taken somewhere. I didn’t see much, more like I sensed it, maybe?”
“I get it.” I remembered something. “When Emma fell into the canal, I was ready to run. I sensed something bad was about to happen, and I think that was because of you. Your eyes had turned blue, and the atmosphere changed. You were my warning signal.”
“Lucky for Emma,” she said. “Unlucky for the murderer if we figure out how to use this to our advantage.” She stood and paced restlessly. “How could I not be aware of what I was doing?”
“You didn’t know.” But I sensed she didn’t want comfort. “Maybe now that you know, it’ll be easier for you to control it.”
“Thinking of you helped. Maybe it made this mean something to me. Gave me something to focus on.” She moved to the window, staring into space. “Dorian, we have to do something. What if they don’t find him in time? What if somebody else dies?”
“Do you feel anything?” I asked.
“Maybe,” she said, but she sounded unsure. “Maybe I could try.”
A phone rang upstairs, and we heard Perdita get up to answer it.
“Maybe you did feel something,” I whispered.
She chewed on her fingernail, and we both grew quiet as we waited to hear the news. My stomach turned. I didn’t want to hear about another death.
When Perdita came downstairs, she was fully dressed and ready to leave.
“I have to go,” she said urgently. “You need to stay here. Dominic’s injured, and nobody’s answering the phones. I have to get him out of there.”
“Why doesn’t he just shift?” I asked.
“His leg is constricted. It was Victor, he thinks. He can’t free himself, and nobody’s coming when he shouts.”
