Chapter 35 Arabella
Arabella
ANON: Thank you for your service to the Conclave. That information about the Sanctus security leaks has been most useful. If you have any more dirt on Gideon Blake that the Conclave could use to gain control over Sanctus Estate, we would love to hear it.
I TAP MY TALONS AGAINST the steering wheel as I pull into the parking lot at the Rose & Wimple, the text from my Conclave contact burning in my mind.
Gideon Blake has given me more than enough information to hang him. If the Conclave test his blood, they’ll know he drained a vampire. Everyone – even the Sanctus members – would turn on him.
But if Gideon goes down for draining the blood of his kin, Sanctus will crumble. As much as I love revenge, I won’t do it that way.
What interests me is how easily he trusted me with that secret, knowing that I could destroy him.
Do I even still want to destroy him?
And why did I decide to trust him back?
That’s the question that haunts me as I drop my keys into my purse and pick up the object I’ve brought along, and my copy of this week’s book club read – Sierra Simone’s Priest, a taboo, forbidden and delicious romance between a man of the cloth and the woman who tempted him to break his vow on the altar of his church.
Something about their story appeals to the sinner in me.
Tonight, I’m breaking a vow with myself.
Staying silent isn’t protecting me any longer. My silence cost Beth her pole studio, and it put Celeste in the path of a killer, and it nearly took Gideon from me.
This isn’t about me anymore.
When I turn the corner into Butcher Street, the object heavy under my arm, I blink in surprise.
If they cancelled this week’s meeting and forgot to tell me, heads are going to roll.
The lights in Nevermore Bookshop are on, but I can’t hear any laughter or gossip, or smell Celeste’s baking.
I hesitate on the street, shifting my object to the other arm.
Winnie appears at the window and waves at me.
I let myself inside, careful not to bang the object against the narrow shelves as I navigate through the dusty shop.
When I enter the room, I nearly drop it in horror.
The Nevermore Coven is a mess. Everyone is silent, dishevelled, shells of the vibrant women I secretly adore.
The murder board is scattered in pieces across the floor, surrounded by a fortification of overfilled wine glasses that no one has touched.
Only Beth is on her feet. She paces the length of the room, wringing her hands and muttering under her breath.
Her usual slick ponytail is sagging, with wispy strands floating around her face.
The bags under her eyes need to be checked as oversized luggage.
No. This won’t do.
I stride over and drop the object onto the floor in the middle of the circle. Mina jumps as books and murder board pictures go flying. Beth shrieks.
“Argh, you spilled my wine!” Komal cries.
“Arabella, what gives—” Isis’s eyes blow wide as she takes in the painting that’s face up in front of her. “Is that… Is that you?”
Every member of the Nevermore Coven leans in to get a good look. I thrust my hands on my hips and wait.
“Arabella, why is there a naked painting of you with what looks suspiciously like Claude Monet’s signature in the corner?” Winnie asks.
Eight pairs of eyes turn to me.
I take a deep breath.
“I’m going to tell you all why. But first, I have one condition.” I glare at Isis. “When I’m done, I will not be taking questions.”
“But—”
“No questions. This is new for me. I need to keep some pieces of myself.” I close my eyes. “Please.”
For a moment, all is still around me. Then a warm hand closes on my arm and Isis says, “Arabella, sit. We’re here for you.”
I open my eyes and look down at eight women who, despite my best efforts, know me better than anyone and still want to be my friends.
I sit.
And with a lump in my throat the size of a Birkin bag, I spill every secret.
I give them every raw and aching memory of my long life.
I give them all the shattered icicles they’ve chipped off my heart.
As I talk, Celeste creeps closer to me, until her arms go around me. I don’t shrug her away. On my other side, Winnie squeezes my knee. At some point, possibly around the time I tell them about waking up and finding Gideon and my necklace gone, Dora reaches up and brushes a tear from my cheek.
I should have trusted them a long time ago.
When I’m done, I’m not the only one crying. I straighten up, push Celeste lightly off me, and fix them with my most vicious Arabella glare. “I’m telling you all of this because we need to catch the killer, and if Celeste is right and he’s after me, I’ll need your help.”
“You have my sword.” Winnie leans in, eyes damp with tears and wild with potential mischief. “Well, Alaric’s sword, if he ever lets me have one again after I accidentally cut open his first edition Churchill biographies.”
“And you have my…” Celeste mimes wolf claws at me, but says for the benefit of the Nevermore Coven, “Rolling pin.”
“And my yoga mat.” Beth leans forward. “Whoever burned my studio is going to regret the day they crossed the Nevermore Coven.”
The room stirs with life once more as the Nevermore Coven get to work.
“It’s obvious where our search begins.” Mina sloshes wine from her too-full glass as she steps into her role as lead amateur sleuth.
“Your present and your past are colliding. This scarred man – the one watching you at your club – he must’ve been the one leaving you those bloody flowers and decapitated songbirds backstage.
I bet he’s the one who burned La Petite Mort and now he’s burned Beth’s studio—”
“Lucien Vega burned La Petite Mort,” I growl.
“Do we know that for a fact?” Mina makes a face. “I hope this doesn’t break your no question rule. I’m just trying to build a new murder board.”
I suppose we don’t know it for a fact, but I don’t see why it matters. “Both this shadow creature and Lucien Vega are dead, so we can eliminate them as suspects.”
Komal raises a thick eyebrow. “Aren’t vampires the experts on coming back from the dead?”
“A vampire can’t survive—” I start to shoot her down, but pause.
There have been rumours, over the decades.
Tales of powerful Dusk Court vampires who twist their magic into something so dark and profane that they can cheat their own death.
The problem with Dusk Court is that their rites are so exclusive and secretive that such rumours will circulate, and it serves their purposes to be viewed as great sorcerers.
The most impressive magic I’ve ever seen a Dust Court vampire wield is Lilac’s superior mixology skills.
“I think it unlikely,” I say finally. “But if a vampire was born with the kind of power that they knight you for in Dusk Court, and was very, very lucky, it might theoretically be possible.”
“It might be worth chatting to Lilac about how theoretical it is. She’s Dusk Court, right?” Mina taps something on her Braille-note. “In the meantime, if you can rack your brain for anyone else from your past. Have you not recognised anyone at Sanctus?”
“No one apart from Badica, who we’ve ruled out. It was so long ago,” I say. “And I haven’t really been socialising with the other members. Plus, vampires can alter their appearance as humans can, if they have the right kind of money.”
“Aren’t you now the main Sanctus investor?” Maisie says. “Wouldn’t that give you access to files on the members? We could cross-reference them against your memories of La Petite Mort.”
I hadn’t thought of that. Once my money landed in the Sanctus account, new permissions and folders appeared on the app, giving me access to deeper layers of the organisation.
The reason I hadn’t thought of it is because it’s a huge invasion of the privacy of Sanctus members, the very privacy I wish to protect. I shouldn’t be giving the Nevermore Coven access to the personal files of hundreds of Upyr. But finding this killer is more important. It has to be.
Gideon won’t see it that way.
And that’s why Gideon hasn’t done anything to catch the killer beyond get the Nevermore Coven involved. Because he’s afraid that what he’s built is rotten from the inside out. He can’t touch those files without breaking an oath. But I can.
“I’ll see what I can find out,” I say.
“Good. In the meantime, we need to keep you safe.”
Celeste and I exchange a glance. “What do you mean?” I ask carefully.
“Clearly, this killer is well established at Sanctus and has figured out how to get around Gideon’s security systems. We need to increase security in a way the killer isn’t expecting.
Good thing I happen to be married to the world’s foremost fictional criminal mastermind.
” Mina cups her hands over her mouth and yells at the ceiling, “Oh, Moriarty! Can you come down here?”