31. Connecting the Dots
31
Connecting the Dots
“So let me get this straight.” Didi arched an eyebrow and steepled her hands under her chin. “You think Wheeler was at Chateau Montmartre this weekend?”
“Yes. And I think he was there to meet with Priscilla Holt or Isobel Lynton.”
I described how Bo and I had caught Wheeler’s scent and followed it to the forest.
“The woman Bo and I saw when we returned to the hotel was wearing an outfit similar to Priscilla’s and Isobel’s,” I finished quietly.
Gavin’s nostrils sparked slightly. “That’s a serious accusation.” He exchanged a troubled glance with Nigel. “Not only do they come from prestigious families, they’re both highly regarded in the supernatural community.”
Nigel nodded in agreement.
I sighed. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you guys before I said anything to Samuel.”
It was Monday morning. Two days had passed since the tea party at Chateau Montmartre. I’d spent most of Sunday dodging Samuel’s questions about what had happened in the castle gardens.
“Was there anything else?” Didi furrowed her brow. “Any clue that might help figure out what he was doing there?”
I hesitated. “There was some kind of magic lingering with his scent. It was…weird.”
“It creeped us out,” Bo elaborated.
Didi’s expression turned thoughtful in the hush that followed.
“Could the magic you sensed have come from the crystal skull?”
I blinked, my pulse quickening. I hadn’t thought of that.
The cursed artifact was reputed to carry dark magic. Maybe that’s why it felt different from the magic I’d detected from the artifacts in the Den and even the runes carved into the keystones of Chateau Montmartre.
“I think you might be right,” I mumbled.
“I have new information on Wheeler.” Nigel tapped a couple of keys on his laptop and turned it around so we could see the screen. “One of my contacts in the criminal underground got back to me this morning. Rumor has it Wheeler recently met with some rather unsavory characters.”
We studied the murky pictures on the screen. It showed a group of some twenty people.
“Who are they?” I asked warily.
“Vampire mercenaries,” Nigel said nervously. “And a couple of rogue witches.”
Bo’s ears flattened.
Dread knotted my stomach. This case was starting to take a dangerous turn. The kind that usually ended up in one of the true crime shows my dog liked to watch, with dead investigators buried in shallow graves.
“We should keep an eye on Priscilla and Isobel,” Didi said grimly. “See if either of them makes contact with Wheeler.”
“Agreed,” Gavin said.
I nodded.
The next few days passed in a blur of surveillance at the same time we doubled our efforts to track down Wheeler and the crystal skull. To my chagrin, neither Priscilla nor Isobel did anything suspicious. They went about their daily activities and attended meetings and social functions like nothing was wrong.
I was starting to wonder if we were on the wrong track when Nigel called us into his office late Friday afternoon, after we’d returned from investigating yet another dead end.
The boogeyman manifested several tentacles distractedly where he sat behind his main computer. “I’ve gone through the security footage from Chateau Montmartre. I didn’t see Wheeler or anyone who looks like Priscilla or Isobel in the gardens.”
We watched the accelerated recordings playing on the monitor. The time stamps were from the time the tea party had started to when it’d ended.
“Could they have avoided the cameras?” Gavin asked after the playbacks ended.
“Possibly.” Nigel adjusted his glasses nervously. “The hotel’s security system is state-of-the-art, but there are blind spots.”
Didi frowned. “Was that everything you had for us?”
“From Chateau Montmartre?” Nigel said. “Yes.” His eyes gleamed in the gloom. “It’s a good idea I decided to keep monitoring Bloody Good Coffee.”
“Oh,” Bo huffed. “I smell a clue!”
The boogeyman typed on his keyboard. “I just went over the latest recording. This is from two p.m. today.”
Footage from the coffee shop’s security camera filled the screen.
Gavin paled. Didi drew a sharp breath.
I grew deathly still.
Marcus Holt sat drinking coffee at a table near the window, a stack of books beside him. A blonde woman in an expensive coat entered the shop and headed straight for him.
I leaned forward sharply, startling Nigel. “That’s the woman I chased in the Crossroads!”
“Keep watching,” the boogeyman said once he’d dimmed his glow. “It gets more interesting.”
Marcus looked up as the woman approached. His face lit up with recognition.
“He knows Wheeler,” Didi breathed.
Bo wagged his tail. “That’s what you call a smoking gun in crime jargon.”
The footage showed Wheeler sitting down. The two talked for several minutes before Wheeler passed Marcus a black bag.
“Can you enhance that?” I said tensely.
Nigel hit a key. The image zoomed in. We stared at the grainy shot.
“Someone please tell me that bag isn’t bulging in a way that suggests it contains a crystal skull?” Didi asked leadenly.
A ripple shook Bo’s fur. “Yeesh. I feel like someone just walked over my grave.”
I knew what he meant. The hairs were lifting on the back of my neck.
“We need to talk to Marcus.” I turned to Gavin. “You’re the best person for the job. He trusts you.”
The dragon newt’s horns and tail popped out. He hesitated before dipping his head, visibly upset.
Didi lowered her brows. “I think we should watch him first to be on the safe side.” She glanced at me. “There’s no point exposing ourselves to danger.”
I heard the witch’s unspoken warning. The crystal skull was a powerful artifact. If Marcus had it on him when we intercepted him, there was a chance he could use it against us.
Nigel promised to get us more information so we could plan our next surveillance operation.
“I still can’t believe Marcus is involved in this,” Gavin muttered as we left the boogeyman’s closet.
“People change, Gavin,” Didi said in a hard voice.
Gavin’s shoulders slumped.
Despite the evidence I had just seen, I couldn’t help but feel we were missing something. Something that would explain why Marcus had met with Wheeler.
The chance to talk with Priscilla’s son ended up coming much sooner than I’d expected and from the most unlikely source.
Mindy floated toward me when we entered the open office.
“Samuel’s looking for you.”
I was still thinking about Nigel’s recent finding when I knocked and walked into Samuel’s office.
“You wanted to see—” I stopped and stared.
Victoria was sitting on the couch. “Hi, Abby.”
Hugh was perched beside her.
Unease danced through me at their troubled expressions. Now what?
I looked over to where Samuel was making coffee for everyone while Bo trotted over to greet Pearl.
“What’s wrong?” I asked warily.
“I’ll let Mother explain.” Samuel indicated the couch.
Victoria waited until I took the seat opposite her before removing a cream envelope that had been sealed with dark red wax from her handbag. The seal was engraved with a family crest I didn’t recognize. She placed it on the table and pushed it toward me.
I stared at the envelope like it might bite. “What’s this?”
“Priscilla’s hosting a ball this weekend. The representatives of every supernatural race as well as the leaders of all werewolf packs, vampire clans, and covens in Amberford are invited.”
A chill ran down my spine. This couldn’t be a coincidence.
I wasn’t sure if my dark sense of foreboding was coming from human Abby or werewolf Abby. I hesitated before reaching for the envelope and taking out the thick, gilded card inside.
The ball was taking place tomorrow night at seven p.m., at the Holt mansion.
I looked up into the Hawthornes’s perturbed faces. “Isn’t this a bit short notice?”
“It is.” Victoria’s face tightened. “But that’s not what concerns us.” She traded a worried glance with her sons. “It’s exceedingly rare for all the heads of the supernatural races in Amberford to be under one roof. The people who attended the function at Chateau Montmartre were carefully selected to represent their race and the prominent supernatural families among them. Even then, not every family was invited. Only those who hold the most power in Amberford get an invitation to the tea party.”
My stomach churned. I suspected I knew the answer to my next question, but I asked it anyway.
“What would happen if everyone important was under one roof?”
Pearl jumped on the table. “It would be the perfect scenario to spring an ambush.”
My knuckles whitened on my lap.
“Has that happened before?” I asked Samuel.
He nodded reluctantly. “In the past. But that’s only part of the problem.”
It sounded plenty enough to me.
“What else aren’t you telling me?” I said in a hard voice.
Samuel rubbed the back of his neck, his expression awkward. “The last time the Holts held a ball, Arthur Holt disappeared.”
My mouth went dry.
The situation had just officially gone from bad to diabolically bad.
“Let’s not forget the ley lines,” Hugh said darkly.
I stared between them, confused. “What ley lines?”
“After Arthur disappeared, a witch in the supernatural task force charged with investigating the case discovered that the Holts’ ancestral home was built on a convergence of magical ley lines.” Samuel frowned. “Apparently, the head of the pack at the time the mansion was erected wasn’t aware of this.”
I could tell he didn’t believe this.
Victoria furrowed her brow. “Some people in the supernatural community wondered whether Arthur was researching ways to tap into that power before he went missing.”
I swallowed. “Why would a werewolf want to access ley lines? We can’t use magic.”
A fraught hush filled the office.
“No,” Samuel said quietly. “But that magic could be used to make dangerous artifacts.”
My shoulders knotted. “Like that crystal skull?”
Samuel dipped his head.
“Arthur was interested in the occult,” Victoria explained. “He was fascinated with the stuff ever since he was a child. I know Priscilla feels guilty for encouraging him to pursue his interests after they got married.”
I exchanged a glance with Bo in the tense hush.
“You should tell them,” he quavered, tail tucked between his legs.
Samuel’s puzzled gaze swung between us. “Tell us what?”