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“Go on, gorgeous,” Morrie purred. “I’m intrigued to hear how we masterminded murdering someone from the outside of a locked room.”
“It’s quite brilliant, really. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you three. First, you all went upstairs one at a time and told me the story about texting each other so I wouldn’t incriminate you. Then, you had Quoth steal Hugh’s pen, which he had in his mouth when he arrived at our room. That’s what he was talking about before he saw me. ‘After everything I went through to get it.’ That’s what you said, wasn’t it?” I turned to Quoth.
“Yes,” he said miserably.
“And then, Heathcliff and Morrie pretended to go to the spa, while Quoth stayed with me. Only, when you went out to get me some snacks, you actually met the others, where Morrie handed you back the pen that he’d filled with cyanide from the supply in the blacksmith’s forge. You knew from Jonathan’s weather reports that the storm would get worse, and Donna had told you that the sessions would be conducted in a locked room from now on. So you waited until all the writers were gathered for the evening critique session, then Heathcliff or Morrie disabled the power while Quoth flew in through the heating vent, did the deed with the pen, and disappeared back through the vent before anyone noticed. You knew that there was no way the police would be able to convict you because there is absolutely no way another human could get into and out of this room, and you probably figured they’d be unlikely to consider the blind girl a suspect. And it’s brilliant, it truly is, and I’m so grateful you feel that way about me, but youmurderedsomeone. Didn’t you? Please tell me I’m wrong.”
No one spoke.
“Well.” I glared at each of them in turn. “Stay something!”
Morrie dropped his sword on the rug.
He burst out laughing.
“I don’t think this is funny,” Heathcliff said. “Mina suspects us capable of murder.”
“Of course she does. Mina’s no fool. She’s put every clue together and come up with the most logical explanation. And she knows us better than anyone, better even than we know ourselves. She has loved us in books long before she loved us in real life. Iamthe Napoleon of Crime. Quoth is a portent of death. And you…you who was driven mad once by your love, can you honestly say that you would not kill for this woman?” Morrie touched my shoulder with such surprising tenderness that my heart broke a little. He continued to admonish Heathcliff. “When you barged into this room the other day, wasn’t your intention to shove Hugh Briston’s head into the fire and relish his screams? I have read your novel, and it was always ambiguous whether or not you killed Hindley—”
“Stop.” I held up my hand. I didn’t want to hear any more. Tears streamed down my cheeks. “I need the truth. Did you do this thing? Did you murder for me?”
Quoth reached out to me, his fingers hanging in the air, hesitant, unsure if I wanted his touch. I didn’t know myself.
“Of course we did not,” he whispered. “Morrie is right. We each of us would kill for you. But you didn’t need us to kill for you. You were so determined to handle Hugh on your own, Mina. You’re so strong, you don’t need us to swoop in like dark knights and make your problems go away.”
I sniffed. Relief welled up inside me and flooded me. The tears came thick and fast. They didn’t do it. They didn’t kill Hugh.
Then why the secret meeting in the laundry closet, and the object in Quoth’s mouth—
“But you are right.” Quoth’s fire-rimmed eyes bore into mine. “We have been hiding something from you.”
“We should have known better than to try and keep a secret from you,” Morrie added.
My heart hammered. “What secret?”
Quoth stepped back. He exchanged a look with the other two, a wordless conversation passing between them.
Morrie nodded.
Heathcliff nodded.
What’s going on?
Quoth pulled something out of his pocket.
All three of them fell on one knee around me.
My stomach dropped into my toes.
“Mina.” Quoth clasped my hand in his, bringing it to his face but not kissing it. His fingers trembled beneath mine. Morrie and Heathcliff each placed a hand on top of his, and the three of them gazed up at me with so much love and hope and adoration that I lost the ability to speak. “Will you marry us?”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Oh.
My.
Isis.
