Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Roremar
“Curfew?” Roremar repeated as he, Darcy, and Desmond walked up the path to the home of the family of one of the missing victims.
His friends had both decided to join Roremar on these visits, Desmond because he was bored at the parlor today and Darcy because he’d spoken to them each already and they agreed it would make everyone a little more comfortable.
“Curfew,” Darcy confirmed. “The Temple Master met with Isle Guard last night. No Starsearchers are to be out between the hours of midnight and six in the morning. Taverns, gambling halls, and incense dens are required to stop serving a few hours prior to encourage patrons to return home, and we’ll be doubling patrols, centralizing on the Peddler’s and Residential Districts on the northeastern end.
“That’ll be great for business,” Desmond grumbled.
“Not to mention the fact that when strict rules are set, it only encourages rebellion,” Roremar added as they knocked on the door.
Those who hadn’t seen the bodies, who hadn’t felt the chill of lurking death voiding the air and deepening the shadows of every alley, wouldn’t understand the immediate threat.
Residents of Lyra had lived with growing crime for years.
They were used to it. A curfew would only encourage more people to sneak around, which would make his and Emmeline’s job harder.
All the more reason to put an end to this quickly, he told himself as a woman answered the door and led him and Darcy through a narrow hall stacked with toys, cloaks falling off hooks. As he had at the first house, Desmond waited outside so they wouldn’t overwhelm the grieving Starsearchers.
They settled in the cramped kitchen as the woman, Nesiree, prepared tea for them.
Roremar took one look at her shaking hands and had to fight his mind from imagining this being his family, his mother the one setting a steaming cup before him.
His sister the one missing. Had to compartmentalize just as he did at the murder scenes.
“Thank you for meeting with us again,” Darcy began as Nesiree sat across from them. “This is Roremar. He’s taken over the search for your mother.”
“Why?” she asked bluntly, her dark curls swaying against her high cheekbones as she assessed them both.
Beyond the kitchen, children’s voices chattered, sounding so young their Fate ties likely hadn’t even kicked in.
Nesiree went on, eyeing Roremar’s tunic that certainly wasn’t the official garb of Lyra Isle Guard. “No offense, but who are you?”
“None taken,” Roremar assured her. “I used to work reconnaissance for the Lyra legions. Given the nature of this case, I’ve been asked to help.”
“The nature of it?” She gripped her teacup tighter, steam rising between them. “My mother is missing, and it’s awful, but what’s changed that requires special attention?”
Roremar and Darcy exchanged a glance, the soldier nodding at him as if to say. It’s your case. Run it how you’d like.
Roremar blew out a breath. “We believe her disappearance may be tied to some others on the isle.”
He left out that two of those disappearances were brutal murders. Unless Nesiree asked, she didn’t need the gory details. Even at that news, her golden skin blanched.
Roremar continued, “I’ve looked through the notes Darcy compiled on your mother, and I had a few questions. You didn’t mention any odd behavior at the time, but in hindsight, knowing that this may be related to other disappearances, was she doing anything unusual?”
Nesiree considered. “Like what?”
“Speaking of or to people she didn’t normally associate with, for start?
” Roremar asked. He wasn’t entirely sold on Emmeline’s cult theory given that all those he’d researched were docile fanatics, and extreme worship of the Fates was—in his opinion—a sign of insanity not violent tendencies, but he’d promised he’d try.
“She seemed normal. Outside of work she went to an apothecary to purchase reading supplies. Began sewing a new dress to gift my daughter on her birthday. Visited with friends for tea or wine. Nothing I know of that was different.”
He chose his next words very carefully. “Nothing that would hint she was maybe planning to leave?”
Nesiree eyed him, snapping, “No.”
He figured that was the case. Who began a new sewing project if they were planning to disappear, let alone one that was a gift?
Roremar redirected his line of questioning, asking Nesiree more about where her mother worked, what kind of clientele the place got, and what her usual schedule was like. He recorded every detail the woman gave him.
“We’ve been trying to convince her to quit her job at the gambling den for years, but she loves playing cards with patrons each night.
Her magic isn’t strong, so it makes her a good competitor.
She can’t cheat, but she’s determined. She really loves it.
” She smiled softly as she dragged a finger around the rim of her teacup, and Roremar didn’t miss that she said loves, not loved, and the hope that implied.
And though he didn’t believe they’d listen, he begged any Fate to help him find this woman before loved became necessary.
None of the information aligned with anything the last family had said. Frustration with himself for not spotting a pattern had him doubling down on the inquiries, squeezing out every last drop he could think of.
Soon, with a promise to write if she thought of anything and a small vial of Mystique Ink from Darcy just as he’d given the last family, Nesiree was walking them out.
At the door, she gripped the knob firmly before opening it. “I have to ask. My family…my children…are we in danger, too?”
Roremar looked over his shoulder toward the sitting room where those tiny voices echoed. “Not if I do my job.”