Chapter 17
17
CAT
T he journey to the beach house took longer than I anticipated. Nestled along a rugged coast where the ocean met the forest, the nip of an autumn breeze laden with the scent of salt and decaying leaves rustled through the trees and tugged at our cloaks. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, courtesy of our unseen friend or friends who continued to follow us.
The solitary house stood against a vast backdrop of the ocean, its weathered wood and thatched roof a testament to many seasons. Ornate carvings framed the windows and doors, hinting at a past where aesthetics held sway alongside function. The rhythmic crash of distant waves mixed with the rustling of leaves underfoot as we walked up a crushed oyster path to the front door. The exterior, charming with its slightly overgrown garden and creeping vines, held a wild beauty that was both welcoming and mysterious. However, upon reaching the door, our initial excitement gave way to a slight hiccup—we needed to find the key I was convinced Arya had hidden somewhere nearby.
“Surely Arya left a key somewhere around here. We just need to find it.” I offered Maeve a confident smile. “Let’s look around.”
Maeve nodded and we split up. She ran her fingers along the wooden windowsills while I ventured into a small, overgrown garden. There, amidst stone sculptures partially covered in ivy, I spotted an ornate ceramic pot shaped like a swan, its wings fanning out to form a hollow space. Inexplicably drawn to the statue, I peered inside and found the key, slightly rusty but solid, hidden beneath a small pile of pebbles.
With a triumphant smile, I waved the key at Maeve before heading back to the door. Slipping the key into the lock, it turned with a satisfying click and the door swung open, releasing a wave of smells that spoke of this place’s identity—the tangy scent of oil paints, a hint of turpentine, and the underlying mustiness of a space seldom used.
Its interior presented a stark contrast to the quaint exterior, best described as a labyrinth of creative chaos. Canvases cluttered every available space—some leaning against the walls, others perched on easels. Paint tubes, brushes, and smeared palettes littered tables and floors, creating a vibrant mess that seemed almost alive with artistic fervor.
“By the immortals!” Maeve gasped, clutching her chest. I closed and locked the door behind us.
The floorboards creaked under our steps, stirring the air and sending up whispers of dust that mingled with the lingering scents of linseed oil and aged wood. Light streamed through the windows, illuminating patches of the room and casting dramatic shadows that played over the unfinished and completed paintings alike.
Each painting was a window into a different world, ranging from stormy seascapes to tranquil landscapes, each brushstroke a testament to the artist's hand and heart. Despite the disarray, there was an undeniable rhythm to the setup. Luckily for us, Arya numbered her paintings and we could easily see which paintings were next to be sold. As the witch Mirabel mentioned, Arya liked to work in advance, and six paintings were already complete.
Maeve walked around the room in wonder. “What was she doing here?”
“If I take a shot in the dark,” I muttered, scanning the paintings, “I’d say Arya was producing dupes.”
Maeve turned to me in confusion. “Producing what?”
“Duplicates.” I scrutinized the completed works. I didn’t recognize any of them. “Are you familiar with any of these paintings?”
Maeve stood next to me and inspected each one, then shook her head. Then her eyes widened. “Wait! This one right here… it’s a Macabelli.” She frowned. “What’s it doing here?”
“Macabelli?” I repeated. “What’s that?”
“He’s a very famous artist, a werewolf from five centuries ago. This looks like an original.” The servant tapped her chin. “If Lord Zacharia knew he had this, I know for a fact he’d sell it!”
I snorted. “It’s not an original,” I said knowingly.
Maeve looked affronted. “How do you know? You’re not even from here!”
“I’m not from here but I know what Arya is involved in, and that’s art fraud. She’s duplicating art originals and selling them to the vampires, for reasons I have yet to figure out.” I stepped away from the frames and turned to Maeve. “I don’t know what the vampires want with these dupes, if they’re the ones committing fraud or what, but Arya is into some real shady business.”
“By the immortals!” Maeve gasped. “Is my lady really doing this?” She seemed truly shocked that her lady would be capable of such a thing.
I inwardly laughed at her naivety. From what Maeve had already told me about Arya, that woman was the devil incarnate. Of course she was capable of such things! And this? Honestly, this was minor compared to what she could really be involved in. The real question was where the hell she was stashing the money she made off her forged paintings. It had to be somewhere in this beach house.
“Maeve?”
The servant had walked to the other side of the room, shaking her head and muttering as she scanned the paintings. “Yes?”
“Is there any way to send a message to Garrick from here?” I walked toward the window and peeked out between the curtains. “Do you think there’s a raven in the house Arya used to send her own messages?”
“I… I don’t know,” she muttered. “I would assume so, if my lady was using the house regularly, which it appears she was.” Her lips twisted in disappointment.
I nodded and continued to peer outside. “Find it and send a message to Garrick. We need him to come here now .”
“But why?” Maeve asked hesitantly. “Shouldn’t we keep this a secret?”
I shook my head. “It’s too late for that; we’ve been followed. We’re going to need his help to protect this house.”
Maeve’s eyes widened in alarm. “What?”
“And I have a feeling I know who it is,” I mumbled. “Now hurry.”
Maeve jogged across the room and up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. While she searched, I scanned the outside area from my vantage point at the window. I didn’t see anyone out there, but the hairs on the back of my neck did not lie.
Process of elimination told me it wasn’t the vampires since it was still daytime, which also eliminated Damien since he couldn’t leave the island unless it was under the cover of darkness and shadows. Klaus could only leave Faelight Forest if summoned when I was in danger, which meant that the person following us was none other than headmistress Mirabel. She was the only other interested party.
Since Mirabel was a witch, I needed to be careful. My human fighting skills would only get me so far. I still had the protection spell Garrick placed on me when I entered Faelight Forest since it was never put to use, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t hurt Maeve. That’s why I needed Garrick here to protect the house.
The witch obviously didn’t trust Arya if she followed us here. I felt like such an amateur coming here from the art school and leading her straight to the goods. I could face palm myself right about now.
“Homegirl could literally take the paintings and the money if she wanted, and we couldn’t do squat about it. Fuck!” I ran a hand through my hair. “Nah. She’s not going to one-up me if I can help it. I’ll stay here all night if I have to.” I leaned against the wall and stubbornly crossed my arms over my chest. “Let’s see who blinks first.”
I heard Maeve stomping down the stairs in a hurry, huffing and puffing. She almost slipped on the last steps and caught herself on the railing at the last second. “Be careful!” I called out.
“I sent out the raven,” she said breathlessly.
“Good,” I muttered. “Now, we wait.”
Maeve furrowed her brows. “Who do you think followed us?”
“The one who got Arya involved in this mess in the first place… Headmistress Mirabel,” I answered confidently.
Maeve gasped for what felt like the hundredth time. “By the—!”
I chuckled. “Yes, yes, by the immortal is right,” I finished for her.
She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re making fun of me.”
I laughed. “I’m not, Maeve. I’m just catching on to your sayings in this world. I’m learning.”
Embarrassment tinged her cheeks. “Oh.”
I approached and rustled her hair. “I’m sorry, Maeve. I didn’t mean to laugh. Arya is involved in some serious things and your concern for her is valid. I promise to help you solve them before I leave.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I internally groaned. That was a promise I probably shouldn’t have made, especially when I didn’t know how much longer I’d be staying in Elaria. Also, I didn’t owe Arya shit. But Maeve had been good to me, and if this put her at ease, it was the least I could do.
“Really?” She looked up at me with big, glossy eyes and I caved.
“Really.”
“Oh, thank you, my lady!” She grabbed my hands. “Thank you!”
We spent the next hour milling around both floors of the house, looking at Arya’s paintings and searching for the money she’d hopefully hidden around here. Unfortunately, we didn’t find a single coin.
When we heard a knock at the door, we hustled downstairs, ready for anything. I peered between the curtains onto the front porch and saw Garrick’s one-eyed self standing in front of the door. Relieved, I sighed at the sight of him.
I flung open the door and ushered him inside. “Hurry!” After pulling him over the threshold, I slammed the door and locked it.
He stumbled and almost lost his footing. “By the immortals! Watch it – you almost slammed the door on my shirt! What’s the emergency? Where am I?” He scanned the house and his nose wrinkled at the strong odor of turpentine.
“You’re at the Ryders’ beach house.” Maeve met us by the door. “We need your, uh… assistance.”
He raised a brow. “Oh, no, my lady. I just finished dealing with your latest mess. Please don’t include me in another!” Garrick spun on his heels to leave.
I clutched the sleeve of his threadbare shirt. “Garrick, wait!” I called out. “Please!”
He paused and warily glanced at me over his shoulder. “I’m listening.”
“Arya… the high lady’s life I’ve taken over, is involved in some… sketchy shit.” I waved around the room. “She’s been painting duplicates of original artworks for the vampires and selling them at a high price. The day we met for the first time, I was accosted by them in the alley after parting ways with you.”
“You got into another… altercation that same night?” he said, shock coloring his tone.
“Well… you’re saying it a bit more politely than I would have, but yes, that’s the gist.” I sighed. “To carry on with the lie of being Arya, I went to her art lesson today and learned that the headmistress of the school is her point of contact for this whole scheme.” I waved at the stacked paintings behind me. “ This is Arya’s secret hideout where she painted and stashed all the money she made.” I grimaced. “And I think the headmistress is the one who followed us here.”
Garrick’s eye widened. “How much coin are we talking about?” he muttered breathlessly.
I shook my head. “We haven’t found anything yet, but I imagine it’s a lot. Like, a lot a lot.”
“Well.” He blew out a breath. “I can’t find the money for you, if that’s what you’re asking of me.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not why we called you here. We need protection. This house needs protection.”
He furrowed his brows, perplexed by my fear of a teacher. “From a headmistress?”
I nodded. “She’s a witch.”
“Ah.” He nodded as if it made perfect sense. “What is this witch’s name?”
“Mirabel,” I answered.
“Mirabel Dacre,” Maeve clarified. “From the Dacre Coven.”
“You definitely have reason to be afraid.” Garrick looked at me knowingly. “They’re a shifty bunch. But they’re not stronger than me,” he smirked.
I exhaled in relief. “So you’ll help?”
He shrugged. “Do I have much of a choice?”
I tilted my head. “Garrick, you always have a choice. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. If you really don’t feel comfortable, then—”
He waved off my concern. “My lady, don’t worry, I’m at your service. Just don’t forget about me when you find that coin.” With a wink, he turned to the window that faced the front of the house.
I chuckled. “Of course not.” This was Arya’s money, but she forfeited her rights to it when she pulled me through the portal and switched places with me. Anyway, since Garrick was helping to protect her little hoard, she owed him.
Besides, this was dirty money. If she had an issue with me spending it, she could damn well take it up with me in person. I would love to see her try.
I watched in awe as magic flowed from Garrick’s fingertips and draped the house like a veil.
“Are you sure we can trust him?” Maeve whispered as we watched him work.
I nodded. “Yes. We can trust him.”
“How do you know?”
“My gut is never wrong,” I mumbled. “It’s how I knew I could trust you.” I glanced at her and winked. She blushed and looked down at her feet. I turned back to the warlock. “Garrick is rough around the edges, but he knows what it’s like to be betrayed,” I whispered. “That hurt tends to stay with you for a long time, and it makes him less likely to betray someone because of it.”
Recognition dawned in Maeve’s eyes. “Because of what the emperor did to him?”
I nodded. “I don’t know what happened, but it was serious enough for Garrick to lose an eye over it. But that’s not even it. It’s the fact that he hasn’t let go of the property in the Northern District. He could have sold that house long ago and lived off the millions he would have made, cutting ties with the emperor and everything related to him. But he hasn’t.”
“Oh,” she mumbled. “I hadn’t thought about that. I just thought he wanted to make money to gamble.”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but that’s just a surface level feeling. Sometimes we need to dig a little deeper when it comes to human emotions,” I whispered. “Garrick isn’t as shallow as he pretends to be. I mean, look – he’s helping us when he could be gambling at The Broken Tankard.”
Maeve raised a brow. “You think he’s up to something?”
I grinned. “I’m almost positive he is, but only time will tell.”
Garrick wiped his hands. “All done.”
The magic appeared like a purple cloak that suddenly fizzled out and disappeared. I glanced around at the room in surprise. “What happened to it?”
Garrick chuckled. “It’s not meant to be seen. But whoever tries to enter will get a rude awakening.”
“Nice.” I nodded. “Do you think you can do us another favor?”
He laughed, his eye twinkling. “You don’t even have to ask. Yes, I’ll stay here.”
I sighed in relief. “Thank you so much, Garrick! I could kiss you right about now!”
He held up a hand. “Please don’t.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s just a saying, dude. I didn’t mean I was actually going to do it.”
“Good.” He eyed me warily. “Anyway, you two should probably get going. Dusk is approaching and I didn’t see a carriage, so I assume you walked here?”
“Yes, we did,” Maeve answered.
“Go before it gets dark,” he said. “I’ll search the house for the coin and send a raven once I find it.”
“Thank you, Garrick, truly.” I took Maeve’s hand and led her to the door. “We’ll be in touch.”
Maeve and I stepped out of the house and started down the road just as the sun was setting. The temperature had steadily dropped, and since we didn’t have cloaks, we huddled close and hurriedly walked back to the west side of the Northern District, very much aware of the eyes that undoubtedly followed.
The path back to the Ryder residence took us through a quieter, more secluded part of town where the sounds were muted and the usual hustle of daily life dwindled as people retreated into the warmth of their homes. The occasional bark of a distant dog or soft clatter of a cart rolling over cobblestones punctuated the stillness, reminding us that even in the cooling evening, life continued unabated.
We passed under arching branches of ancient, gnarled trees, their leaves a vibrant tapestry of fall colors. A brisk wind whipped our hair and whispered through the leaves, making the branches creak and sway. The sound was both soothing and eerie, as if the trees were speaking in hushed tones.
Despite the beauty of twilight hours, a palpable tension rested between our shoulder blades, an unspoken awareness that we were being watched. The sensation was unsettling and we quickened our pace, our footsteps echoing sharply against the stone pathways. Every shadow seemed to stretch towards us with grasping fingers, every flicker of movement in our peripheral vision made us glance back, searching for any sign of followers.
“My lady?” Maeve whispered.
“Shh.” I hurried her forward.
The taste of fear was subtle but distinct, a metallic tang at the back of our throats as we navigated the dimming light. Fear wasn’t an emotion I gave into often, but Mirabel was a witch. I wasn’t delusional enough to believe I could overcome her unless we fought in hand-to-hand combat. Honestly, I was surprised she didn’t stay behind to search the house on her own. Why would she follow us home? Maybe she knew Garrick and didn’t want to tangle with him. Either way, she was with us now.
Another curve in the path, and the Ryder residence came into view. I nudged Maeve forward. “Go!” I urgently whispered.
She turned to face me, her expressive eyes wide and confused. “My lady?”
“I’ll be there soon.”
Fear etched her face, but I gave her a reassuring look and pushed her toward the house. I sighed in relief when she entered the estate. Spinning on my heels, I turned to face the seemingly empty street and clapped my hands.
“All right, you can come out now!” I called out. “You followed us all the way here, you might as well make yourself known.”
After a moment or two of silence, Mirabel slunk out of the shadows and walked closer. Wearing a long black dress that seemed to pull color from the gloom, the enigmatic witch’s dark eyes flashed. “You knew?”
I snorted. “You were fairly obvious, Mirabel.”
The witch frowned. “But you’re human! You shouldn’t have been able to tell I was there. If I’d known, I would have concealed myself with magic.” Her eyes narrowed, displeased she wasn’t as stealthy as she thought she was.
“Do that next time,” I said with a chuckle. “Now what do you want? You followed us all the way home, so you obviously want something.”
Mirabel crossed her skinny arms and bristled. “You don’t trust me,” the witch stated matter-of-factly.
I shrugged but stayed silent.
“You enlisted Garrick the Betrayer, of all people, to ward your home from me. You know I cannot fight him off!” she scoffed.
I tilted my head and smirked. “I didn’t realize you were someone I needed to fight off.”
She opened her mouth and closed it, then opened it again. “I didn’t mean—”
“Why did you follow me there in the first place, Mirabel?” I interrupted.
“Because I want the paintings you owe me!” she demanded, fisting her hands by her sides. “You’re not the only one in hot water. The vampires are also after me . If I don’t produce those paintings soon, I’ll—”
I raised my hand to stop her tirade. “Let me guess… you’ll have to pay with your body?”
She gulped and her icy demeanor faltered. “Y-Yes.”
“Why the hell do they make these types of deals?” I muttered to myself and ran a hand through my hair in frustration. “Look – I’ll get the painting I owe to you tomorrow, and the one for this month on the assigned Sunday and not a day sooner. But what you’re not going to do is try to rob me.” I fixed the witch with a glare and pulled all the bravado I could muster. “I might be human, but I’m not stupid, Mirabel. You thought you could get the paintings and the money, too. Not cool.” I waggled my pointer finger at her. “If you try to steal from me again, you’ll regret it.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You believe that with Garrick’s backing you’re stronger than I am now? I have the whole Dacre Coven to support me, little girl! I wouldn’t toss idle threats simply because you’re a high lady and your father has money, if I were you.”
I chuckled and covered my mouth coquettishly. “Goodness, you think that’s why? No, dear, I’m not threatening you because of Garrick and my family’s money. Obviously I have my own money. I don’t need my father’s.” I stepped closer until the witch and I were no more than a few inches apart. “I’m threatening you because I can kick your ass, you dumb bitch.”
I grabbed her throat lightning fast and lifted her off the ground an inch or two before slamming her down on her back and pinning her to the ground. Her head bounced on the cobblestone like a basketball and the witch gasped as the air was knocked out of her. I hovered over her face with a smirk and squeezed her throat tighter.
“Do I make myself clear?” I whispered. “I don’t need Garrick to handle you because I can handle you myself. And if you want to get your coven involved, go ahead. I’m sure they’ll be fascinated to hear about the dodgy shit you’re involved in with the vampires. So what’ll it be, Mirabel?”
She scrabbled at my wrists and tried to suck in air with wide eyes filled with fear. “You’re…” she gasped, “you’re… not… Arya!”
I laughed and shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. You’ll never know.” I leaned down. “But do as I say and we’ll get along just fine. Capeesh?”
She nodded with as much force as she could with my hand wrapped around her throat and I released her, then stood and took a couple steps back to give her room to move.
She sucked in a lungful of air and clutched her throat before scrambling to her feet. “You wench !” She flung out her hand and lobbed a ball of magic at me.
I cowered and raised my arms, prepared to be turned into a toad or something, but the magic bounced off Garrick’s protective cloak with a fizzle. I peeked through my fingertips to see the cloak disappear, leaving me vulnerable once again. Shit .
“Nice try,” Mirabel growled. A wicked sneer slid over her face as another magic ball formed in her palms. She reared back and wound up her arm like she was pitching in the big leagues.
I winced, closed my eyes, and braced for the oncoming pain when a brush of hair whispered across my face with a hint of lavender. I wrinkled my nose and sneezed.
“The fuck?” I cracked one eye open and saw a man with long, silky white hair standing in front of me. Half of the glossy strands were pulled up in a swirl of a bun while the rest fell below his bottom in a satin curtain. Klaus, clad in silk white robes, formed a protective barrier between me and the witch. I nearly collapsed in relief. “Oh, thank God,” I murmured.
“Who in the name of the immortals are you?!” Mirabel shouted.
Klaus chuckled. “I’m your worst nightmare,” he casually responded. “If you insist on hurting my little human, I’ll have to insist on killing you. And honestly, it’s a lovely night. I would hate to paint the streets crimson with your blood.”
I peered over his shoulder to see that Mirabel’s magic ball had frozen mid-way toward us. Her hand was still in the air, pushing it toward us, but Klaus stopped it with his own blend of fae powers.
Wow. That was dope as fuck.
I started to clap and patted his shoulder. “Very cool, man. Very cool.”
“How are you doing this?” Mirabel gritted between her teeth, struggling to stay upright as she vainly pushed her magic forward. “No one is stronger than a witch except for…” Her eyes slowly widened as she realized who – or what – was standing in front of her. She retracted her magic and stumbled back. “By the immortals, Arya. What have you done ?” she whispered in horror.
I held up my hands. “I didn’t do a thing.”
Mirabel narrowed her hate-filled glare at me. “This is not over!” Without looking back, she turned and ran away, quickly hidden by the shadows.
When she was gone, Klaus turned to me. Once again, I was blinded by his beauty. It really should be a crime to be that pretty. “Wow, this deal is solid,” I offered lamely. “Thanks for the assist.”
Amusement glinted in his mesmerizing eyes. “Not a problem, little human. I knew you’d eventually land yourself in trouble. I just didn’t think it’d be this soon,” he accused.
I held up a hand. “Hey, don’t judge. It’s not my fault the girl’s life I took over was involved in some crazy shit.”
He raised a brow. “So you’ve found your doppelg?nger?”
My eyes widened. “ That’s what it’s called?” I shook my head. “Yeah, that bitch was the one who pulled me into the portal here. If it wasn’t for her, I’d be at home right now dealing with my cheating boyfriend. Don’t know which scenario is better, but at least at home I had plumbing and not a damn chamber pot,” I groused.
He furrowed his brows and rubbed his chin speculatively. “That’s quite a coincidence,” he murmured. “Usually, they’re rather difficult to find. Next to impossible. It must be fate.”
“Fate, my ass,” I grumbled. “That bitch owes me a year’s worth of therapy!”
“You’re not Arya?”
We whirled around when we heard the deep timbre of Damien’s voice. He materialized from the inky shadows, his huge frame cloaked in darkness. Piercing ebony eyes stared accusingly at me as if I’d just told him Santa Claus wasn’t real.
Fuck .