Tension
IGNATIUS
K owalski points a chubby finger at us from the stage and grunts, “Nobody leaves, nobody touches anything, nobody makes a mess, got it?”
Liam raises a hand like he’s about to make an objection at Parliament. He could definitely do worse, but the Prince is more diplomatic than all the rest of us put together. “Detective. We’ve all been very patient?—”
“Save it, Your Highness,” the walrus shifter says. “For the record, the next person who does anything in this crime scene is going in the back of my cruiser.”
I highly doubt that, Detective Pastrami.
Morgana’s jaw flexes, and I see Dez sneak out to hiss again. “Our lawyer has already explained that Lucas and Slade are not answering your questions. Keeping them here isn’t necessary.”
“It doesn’t matter what you want, lady.” Kowalski looks at me, his gaze narrowing. “Isn’t this pretty boy your roommate, Professor?”
“That’s right,” I reply as I arch a brow.
Slade hasn’t moved an inch since I arrived, and I know he’s struggling up there.
We tried calming him a little, but if this asshole doesn’t quit filling that stage with negative emotions, it’s going to hurt him.
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything. ”
Kowalski grins at the gentle siren who’s been my best friend since he arrived with the intensity of a carnivore. “You were the last to see the victim alive, I’ll bet. Theater people are all crazy as hell.”
Slade snorts. “I absolutely was not. Prior to yesterday, I’d been out of state for a couple of days visiting family.
When we arrived home, we stayed at our place for the evening.
The next morning I worked as usual, but was not in the theater, nor did I see Rialto.
The entire cast received an email early this morning that he was scheduling a last-minute run-through tonight, so once I was off from work, I came here to set up the orchestra pit.
I found the body once I turned up all the house and stage lights in the booth.
Though… I didn’t really know it was a body until I came on stage. I thought someone had left a mess.”
Sanders is scribbling notes as he stands in the aisle, and I watch him curiously. The shifter seems less antagonistic than Kowalski and I need to check into where he comes from. Once he speaks, I push that thought aside to listen. “Did you see or hear anything unusual after that?”
Other than this circus of idiots now occupying this space? I doubt it.
My anxious roommate glances at me like I’m the cue card holder for this interrogation. I clear my throat. “If he had, I’m sure he would have mentioned it.”
Thorne winks at me, then steps closer to the second banana cop. “Notice how cooperative we’re being, Sergeant. I think you should write that down in your little book.”
“Buzz off, Thorne,” Kowalski says as he pushes to his full height and looks at Slade. “My partner asked you a question. Are you avoiding it? Is that because Wolfberg here was killing the Beauregard heir? Are you protecting him?”
What. A. Fucking. Maroon.
Lucas snarls from his spot at the edge of the stage.
“If you’re implying that I’m some psycho who kills random people for jollies, you’ve got the wrong guy.
There are plenty of lunatics in old families like mine, but Nana raised me better than that.
This is a coincidence, and while I know it looks bad, you’re going to regret acting like an idiot when you figure out who really did this. ”
Morgana beams at him proudly, but stays quiet. We don’t want this goon sniffing around us and finding out about our relationships. He’d leak it to the press, and we have enough bad PR for the time being.
“I’m not implying,” the detective says. “I’m stating. As of right now, you two—” he gestures at Lucas and Slade, “—are officially persons of interest.”
“I’d give anything to sit,” Lucas mutters as he rolls his eyes.
Morgana rubs her temples as she watches the big man trundle across the stage. “Detective, we’ve agreed to cooperate. However, these students have a lawyer, and you can’t keep them here indefinitely without cause. Right, Jackson?”
The leonine lawyer smiles, but it feels vicious as he watches the walrus lumber toward us. “He has cause—for now, Morgana. But I’m not going anywhere while he examines this scene. If Lucas and Slade are bound to stay, then you all get to experience my shining personality as well.”
Kowalski shrugs as if this is the highlight of his week. “Get the teams here, Sanders. Double-time.”
The sergeant walks away to make the call, and I wait until everyone is distracted again. I’d really like to get closer to the stage and use a few spells to see what clues I can find before some clumsy, half-baked lab techs destroy everything.
“Is it really necessary to have your unit all over this historic room?” Channing asks, but Kowalski’s already lurching toward the auditorium doors.
She sighs and looks at Morgana. “They’re going to make a giant mess, leave it for us to cleanup, and the restoration afterward will be astronomical.
Not that I don’t want the boys cleared, but… Ching Ching.”
Groaning to herself, Morgana pinches the bridge of her nose again. Once she’s collected herself, she rounds on us. “Jax, Eli needs to be on that Serpent thing now. And… where the hell did Kendrick and Rainier go?”
Thorne smirks again. “They’ll be using all their talents to gather our own evidence to be analyzed and staying out of sight. Rain knows what needs to be done in a situation like this, trust me. Being invisible is an asset, I promise.”
“Are we sure it’s not overkill to have some magical special ops guys slinking around? What if the cops or the CSIs run into them?” Liam folds his arms over his chest, looking unsure.
Kaspar snorts. “The detective is drooling over the chance to lock up the Wolfenberg heir again, and once he figures out who Slade is tied to, it will be even worse. Plus, as far as all you people say, we have incoming issues with a nasty, wealthy relative of the deceased. I think the fucking army wouldn’t be overkill. ”
“We’re so fucked,” Lucas groans as he shifts from foot to foot. “That guy thinks I’m his ticket to a desk job and stars on his shoulders or some shit.”
“You’re not fucked,” I say irritably. “We just have to get ahead of the narrative. Once we find out the time of death, you can produce alibis. We know where you were, and we have the ability to prove it through tech and witnesses.”
Morgana steps between us and the gaping auditorium. “Iggy’s right. You can’t let that jackass see you squirm. It’s what he wants because he thinks once you’re emotional, you’ll break. They sure as hell tried it with me during my interrogation.”
“I thought you confessed when they caught you,” Kaspar says. He looks confused, but Jackson does not.
“I did, but they wanted to know all the reasons why . Since I figured they’d execute me anyway, I made them work for those answers—very hard.”
The auditorium goes silent except for the soft hum of the stage lights.
I think Thorne knew they basically tortured her to find out, but the rest of us did not.
She doesn’t have a mark on her, which likely means she shifted back and forth a lot to keep scars or injuries from forming.
I don’t even want to imagine what she went through, to be honest; the Society has damn near every terrifying supernatural available at their disposal—even the ones they keep locked up in places like Blackwater Supe Max out by Bay City.
Our mate is even tougher than I thought, and I think all of us just realized that.
Giving her a tight nod, I break away from the group while the cops are outside waiting for their teams. I can’t focus on what Morgana experienced without being furious, and I’m more useful if I go use my magic to help Lucas and Slade.
Taking a seat in the front row, I look at the scene with a critical eye.
Rialto Beauregard’s body is sprawled across the stage right apron, face-up, eyes staring at the lighting grid now that the cloth has been removed.
He looks bored, as if death itself is an inconvenience.
He probably was or is—the rumors about his erratic behavior reached even the staff lounges.
I scan the shadows above the stage. “There’s something on the grid up there,” I murmur to myself. I’ll have to point it out to Thorne and, hopefully, his secret operative, whatever guys will check it out.
The doors at the top of the aisle bang open. I turn, watching the forensics techs arrive, knowing that every minute we wait, things are degrading that could help our friends.
Quietly, I whisper, “ Veritatem revela et viam monstra .? 1 ”
The bloodstains glow with my magic, and I tilt my head.
I don’t know shit about this other than what I’ve seen on TV, but it appears that whoever killed Beauregard had him pinned when they started stabbing.
The guy isn’t tiny or big, so that means the killer is likely at least average-sized.
Obviously, supernatural powers will play into this because no one has seen a knife.
Something that left with the person—like claws or fangs—was used.
And that’s about as far as Masterpiece is going to get me, unfortunately.
If you’ve never felt a banshee float by, you don’t know the meaning of death crossing your doorstep.
The coroner passes me, making me shiver as I note the hellhound shifter that must be her assistant tugging a rolling suitcase of diagnostic gear.
As she moves through the space, the temperature drops three degrees, and Slade’s glasses fog up.
An appropriate job for her kind, I suppose.
Her badge says Dr. Balor. The hellhound isn’t wearing one, but he has fiery eyes that seem to dissect everything around him as he opens their cases and starts taking pictures. Neither of them speaks to any of us, and I grin to myself as I keep my seat close enough to observe their work.
I hear Thorne whisper, “Don’t look her in the eye. She’ll know how you die.”
“That’s the idea, isn’t it?” The dragon snickers at his own joke, and I have to admit, it’s pretty funny. He’s doing a lot better since the conclave after the club, I think.
Dr. Balor pays us no mind. She glides past, eyes unfocused, as if she’s already memorized everyone’s criminal history and moved on to next week’s obituaries.
I can’t help staring at her cheekbones—sharp as glass—and the way her lips never quite meet.
I get a chill, like a cold needle of magic down my spine.
I hope this will not take a long ? —
The banshee shrieks for attention, then announces, “Scene secure. Next-of-kin contacted?” Her voice is thin and metallic, like a dial tone after someone hangs up.
Kowalski blinks, momentarily nonplussed. “Uh, not yet. University’s handling the family notification.”
Dr. Balor taps her tablet with a red lacquered nail. “First step is to clear these people out; I’ll need an hour to work.”
Jackson raises a finger. “Is it possible to expedite? Some of us have urgent appointments.”
The banshee gives him a stare so icy the hellhound sneezes. “Death is never expedient, Mr. Thorne. But I will be thorough.”
“Understood, Doctor,” Jackson replies before he turns to make a face at Morgana.
As Dr. Balor and her assistant walk around the stage, I stay in place and the others take seats near the middle. Liam and Kaspar stay quiet, observing like me, but Morgana and Channing choose to appear unconcerned.
“Dean, would you like me to set a board meeting for tomorrow morning? I can conference in the relevant trustees.”
Ah, that’s the Channing I know. She’s already thinking ahead to lighten Morgana’s load tomorrow.
Morgana sighs. “Do it, Channing. Virtual is fine unless the board insists on a full bloodletting in person.”
“I’ll block two hours. Do you need time between calls?”
“Yes,” Morgana says, “…ten minutes minimum. Add a slot for me to call the Beauregard matriarch now that I’m tasked with that job because the detective is too cowardly to do it himself.”
Channing makes a humming noise of assent. “I’ll get you her direct line.”
I pretend not to eavesdrop, but the name ‘Beauregard’ is still a trigger for me.
My dickhead father played squash with Rialto’s uncle once upon a time, and every Thanksgiving I had to listen to tales of their estate’s ‘rich supernatural history.’ If anyone could tell me how to survive the Beauregard matriarch, it’s my father.
I make a mental note to call him at the earliest possible moment, so I can help Morgana.
“All set,” Channing says suddenly. “Board meeting tomorrow, eight a.m. sharp. Your first break is at nine-forty. I’ll text you updates.”
I bet her fingers were moving like lightning on that phone.
“Channing, you’re a lifesaver.”
“Just doing my job, Morgana.”
They’re hoping to keep the grumpy asshole cop from trying to question anyone again by looking busy.
I know it, and I guarantee the others know it.
Morgana is never this vocal about what she’s doing for the school, and Channing might be chirpy, but nothing like this.
It’s a smart play, and I’m glad they’re keeping the focus on it.
“ Instrumentum revela ? 2 ,” I mutter as I stare at the stage. The hellhound whips around, a low growl in his throat as he warns me off. “Damn it.”
Of fucking course he’d catch me trying to figure out what killed that damn guy. Just my luck.
1 ? Reveal the truth and show the way.
2 ? reveal the instrument