Chapter 24
C HAPTER 24
AUDEN
The stench of blood coats the back of my throat as we climb the stairs.
It’s as sharp and fresh as the scream we heard, new and distinctly different from what happened in the woods, hours ago now. The recovered knives clink heavily in Evander’s waist pack as we hustle, the wail ebbing into sobbing by the time Lavinia, Kaysa, Evander, and I trace the noise to the second floor and then the solarium.
Inside, Infinity and Winter are huddled beside the Victorian settee closest to the hearth on the south wall, the dying day weakly illuminating the space through the massive windows. The fire has snuffed out yet again, and as I light it the terrible scene adopts a golden hue.
Infinity is on their knees, hands pressed to their face. Winter’s tears sparkle in diamond streaks down her cheeks as she cups their shaking shoulders.
I already know exactly what we’ll see as the entire Cerise family bursts in from the terrace door.
Luna, dead on the antique cushions.
What I don’t expect is the fresh golden sunlight wrapped taut and shimmering over her still form.
A victim’s shroud.
We’ve got more on our hands than a tragedy—we’ve got another murder.
One that we can’t assign to Marsyas Blackgate.
One orchestrated by someone in this room.
There’s a noise like a collective gasp and a shuffle of involuntary movement—hands flying to lips, knuckles squeezed, steps hitched, and in the case of Evander, completely stopped dead—as we take in the scene.
A teacup lays in shards on the rug, a half-eaten croissant growing stale on a plate atop the side table. Upon closer inspection, a book of large-print crosswords is abandoned next to Luna’s shrouded form, the stub of a pencil still clasped in her gnarled fingers. Her sable lips are tinged blue, but it’s impossible otherwise to tell how she died. Given our recent encounter, I anticipate a knife slash—a murdered witch receives a victim’s shroud whether or not it was magic that did the deed. But I don’t see it.
We’re too late for a soul’s truth. The phenomena appears once—there’s no automatic replay. It’s there and gone. I wish we’d seen it; I feel lucky that we’d seen Ursula’s, though it meant witnessing her end too.
“Infinity,” Evander nudges, more gently than I’ve ever heard from him, “what happened?”
In answer, they look to Winter. “We came in from the terrace and she was just here and… can we have this conversation away from here?”
It’s a question but their voice frays and they stand, backing away. The Cerise twins and Blackgates part to let them through as Sanguine puts a motherly hand to their shoulder. Infinity doesn’t acknowledge Sanguine’s attempt at placating them, just slips away from the woman’s hand.
We follow their lead.
At first, I expect them to seek fresh air on the terrace, but instead they lead us into the hall and to the suite they shared with Luna. We file in silently as they sway on their feet, buffered by Winter.
“Do you need to sit?” Lavinia asks, hands reaching out as if to help.
Infinity shakes their head fiercely, their brown cheeks slick with tears under eyes rimmed crimson. Their gaze snags on her bloodied arm. “What happened to you?”
Lavinia shrugs it off, clearly not wanting to pull focus from Luna. “Just a cut that bled too much.”
Winter rounds on her, suspicion in her eyes. “A cut? Or a defensive wound, because we all know Luna wouldn’t have gone without a fight. Let me see that—”
“She got it with me, Win,” Evander barges in, twisting enough to show the coated back of his jersey. All four Cerises have noticed, called like a shark to the mess, but they stand apart, across the room. Evander makes eye contact with each and every one of them, the message clear— don’t you dare . Then, he says to the group at large, “Unrelated. And unimportant right now. Infinity?”
Infinity nods, effectively calling off Winter, whose nostrils flare as she watches the four of us, questions loading on her lips. The youngest Starwood—the only Starwood—slips from Winter’s steadying hand and begins pacing in short bursts in front of the darkened hearth. I snap my fingers to light this one too.
We spread ourselves around the sitting room, waiting as they walk in a tight line before the flue, the rising fire casting their dark skin in burnished light with each step and turn. They seem steadier now, somehow. Gaining balance with each footfall.
“Let’s start at the beginning,” Winter suggests, sounding much calmer than I feel. “What happened when you left the driveway this morning?”
The question settles into the air, and I shake my head when my older cousin glances my way. Now isn’t the time for Evander—or Hector, for that matter—to show off their leadership skills. Winter and Infinity have always been as close as far as the High Families go. Best that she asks the questions.
Infinity blinks at her, throat bobbing, and pauses at the turn of their next round of pacing. They lean into the far wall and gaze down into the middle distance of the flames as the rest of us watch and wait.
It takes a moment, but Infinity’s voice comes in stops and starts, then, their tone worn.
“Grandmama was hungry, so we went to the solarium. She picked out two croissants, I made her a second cup of coffee, and walked her over to her favorite place to sit.” Their face breaks into something of a sad smile as a new jag of tears spills down and they press a trembling hand to sop them up. They lean harder into the wall. “It’s the right height for her knees.”
Winter nods, gently. She doesn’t goad, she just waits, and it’s both a relief and a testament to how much everyone here respects Luna that no one prods them further, letting the story unravel at its needed pace.
“Then she kissed me on the cheek, told me to keep my wits about me, and reiterated for at least the third time that she wanted to have supper in our room so that I could brief her about the day’s search if no master had been found.”
No-nonsense matriarch Luna, finding her preferred spot and sticking to it until her grandchild arrived with a field report—that was exactly what would be expected from her.
“I confirmed and… and then you walked into the room.” Infinity looks up, finding Winter. They seem to sink into the wall at their back as they press a palm right over their heart. “We left for the grounds. We were gone… what… five hours? Six? And then we walked in and… and she was…”
Their voice trails off into a series of panicked, shallow gasps. Winter steps forward and places both hands on their shoulders. “Take deep breaths. Infinity. Look at me—”
“I… just… no.” Infinity gapes at all of us, shrugging themself loose of Winter. Their dark eyes land on each and every one of us, tears smearing out the lined corners. “Why is no one imprisoned by Ursula’s magic?”
My stomach clenches.
Ursula’s spell should mean her murderer is trapped in a pressurized prison. It should’ve been automatic, day or night.
And yet we’re all accounted for. Every last one of us.
We were all out on the grounds when this murder likely occurred. In pairs, and in the case of the Cerises, a whole family unit. It’s possible every single person in this room did it, and it’s possible every single person in this room has an alibi.
“Why—who did this to her? Why? Why would any of you do this? Who did this? ”
Infinity’s soft accusation is now a shouting one, and the answers are incomplete and braided together as what they’re saying hits like a tidal wave.
“I—”
“No—”
“We—”
Hector is the first person to get out a full answer, cutting and accusatory in the air. “Are you saying one of us is the culprit? Because we’re not.”
Lavinia shakes her head. “We can’t blame this on Nona Marsyas. What if someone else is inside? On the grounds?”
“We checked for others after the driver was found,” I answer, gesturing to my cousins. “There’s no one else but the people in this room.”
Still, Hector scoffs, teeth flashing in an imperious smile. “Are you suggesting someone in this room is the culprit? Check your ma—”
“The culprit ? The killer . The murderer of my grandmother!” Infinity pounds both fists on the wall behind them so forcefully sparks of brilliantly white Celestial magic flare into the air before retreating, falling away like snowflakes hitting wet pavement. “I… I don’t want any of you in here right now. I want you to leave.”
Infinity has never been a loud person. Ever. But in their eyes is a wild emotion I recognize—the same one I tamped down deep last night. The one my cousins locked away too. The one we’re not supposed to show.
Rage.
The one the Blackgates chose to bury with their girls’ memories of the reason for it. The one Infinity is brave enough to reveal in the face of immediate, terrible pain.
Reflected back, my own rage rouses and unfurls. I’m angry for them. For us. I want this over. I want to move past, even though I know it won’t hurt less. The victory of minutes ago seems hollow now. But it’s a way forward, as weak in the face of this new horror as everything else.
“We’ll leave, but first, I have something for you.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the vial. “We found the Celestial relic.”
In the firelight, the vial glows crimson and bold, like noon through vermilion stained glass.
Infinity draws in a sharp breath, their eyes growing big. “It—you did?”
Their fingers stretch to accept it, but Hector is suddenly in motion and between us. “It’s blood—that can’t be the Celestial master.”
I draw it away so that he can’t snatch it. “It’s the Blood of Nostradamus . He’s a noted Celestial witch.”
Infinity is nodding, but Hector is not assuaged, digging deeper, despite how petty it may seem as we stand here in the echo of Infinity’s loss. The patriarch has the audacity to smile, as if that will suffice in muting his single-mindedness.
“The first master relic was literally breath—the elements of air and life wound into one—and this is blood. The first relic was harvested from a Death witch, and this from a Celestial witch.” He waves a hand in the general direction of the sisters. “Therefore, we have immediate precedent that the Celestial witches should cede to the Blood witches—”
“Are you kidding me?” Winter challenges, stepping in to block Infinity from view. “You want to fight Infinity for this vial right now? In this moment? With what they’ve just lost? Just so you can hold something that’s not even yours? Fuck no.”
“Perhaps—”
“Papa—” Hex jumps in, but Hector shakes him off, barely pausing to swallow before he appeals to the person he suddenly sees as his closest equal and someone who might agree: Evander.
“ Perhaps we should check the next clue. It could point to—”
“I don’t fucking care about the next clue!” Infinity explodes, pushing off the wall and toward Hector. Winter steps into them, hooking an arm around their middle. They don’t go around or shake it off, but yell at him from over the frame of Winter’s shoulder. “I don’t care about any of it! I care about my grandmother.” They thrust out their hand, past Winter, toward me. “Auden, give me the vial.”
I don’t hesitate. They snatch it away. “Now leave. All of you!”
I turn to exit but Hector blocks the door. Gone is the sycophant, the team player, the noble patriarch. In his place is something disgusting, greedy, repugnant.
“No, we’ll read that clue right now.” Hector crosses his arms over his chest and stands as still as a tracksuited statue. “If it points to the Celestial Line, I want my chance to hold that vial of blood . The Cerise Clan has worked for years to atone for the crimes of Napoleon Cerise, and we have earned the right and the credit to hold our master relic.”
“Jesus Christ—” Evander moans, cut off by Winter whirling around, eyes blazing.
“Fuck you, asshole!”
Hector doesn’t blink. “It’s our right just as much as it’s theirs.”
“Holy shit,” Hex breathes, and for once in his goddamn life the boy looks completely embarrassed. Next to him, Ada is so horrified she’s nearly purple. She’s stopped tugging at her father’s arm. Sanguine, of course, stands next to Hector, with him, a front.
“Unbelievable,” Infinity bites out, shoulders quaking as they hang their head. Then, “Auden, do it. Read it.”
I produce the will and place it on the coffee table, kneeling down. When my hand makes contact with my thumbprint, the second clue begins to fade and swirl, shift and rearrange, warm to the touch.
Then, the third clue fades in. Five lines and poetic, just like the other two.
I draw in a deep breath and read.
“Out damn spot, blood will never go
It paces, hot and urgent, then goes cold
The heart moves it, Princess
Until it succumbs to the elements, shriveled, hard, alone
But never gone, stained with what was.”
I’m not even to my feet when the silence is broken, and when it is, it’s somewhat of a shock because it comes in the form of Hex turning to his father and saying, steel in his voice and color in his cheeks, “It mentions blood and the elements—not a hint of anything Celestial, Papa. This one’s ours.” He glances back at Infinity, an apology hanging in the void. “Let’s leave them be, please.”
Ada must agree, because she shoves open the door and holds it for the rest of her family. Sanguine grabs Hector’s hand and announces, “We’ll be in the study for a proper regroup.”
They don’t shut the door, and as I’m closest to it, I resume the position Ada has vacated, holding it open for the rest of my family and the Blackgate girls, who’ve already risen from where they’d planted themselves on the settee.
“I’m out of the game.”
There’s a pause, and then a shuffling turn of all of us to where Infinity stands, clutching the vial in both hands before them like it’s something to be prayed over.
Winter whispers from close range, “What?”
“The Celestial Line is out.” Infinity swallows, their shattered voice repairing with each word. “This master relic stays with us—with me. That’s what Grandmama wanted.”
“What… Luna wanted?” Evander tries to clarify, more gently than I’d expect but everything Infinity deserves.
“What she wanted, and she speaks—spoke—for the line. Last night after we left the will reading, she told me we would accept our master relic and cease participation—in the game, in the competition for control of the lines, and with the Four Lines themselves.”
There’s a commotion at the door and Hector tries to lean past me. “The Celestial Line can’t just leave—”
“Why can’t we? This is our master!” Infinity holds the vial above their head like a championship trophy and shakes it, making it impossible for Hector to miss, even with me blocking his path into the suite and his own children hanging on him, trying to drag him back into the hallway. “Our power is tethered to it. Our line’s power. And my grandmama was adamant that she didn’t want us tethered to any of you after we leave this place.”
“What—why?” Winter asks, quietly.
“Does it matter? It is what we wish. It is what she wished, and what I wish. And honestly, I don’t want to see any of you again until the master relics are found, the murderer is punished, and the spell is broken.” They meet Winter’s eyes, and the meaning is clear—you too. “I have food and water here. I’ll put up wards against all of you if I have to. Do not come into this suite again.”
With that, Winter nods but doesn’t dare to touch her friend. “We understand.”
The Cerises drag Hector down the hall as he protests with words and fighting steps on the plush carpet. I again hold the door and as the Blackgates approach, Lavinia turns before exiting. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Infinity.”
“Yes. We’re so sorry,” Kaysa adds, splotches of color high in her cheeks, eyes wet.
Again I’m struck that the Blackgates seem to be the only people acknowledging those of us who’ve lost someone. The rest of us echo the sentiment, but if I’m being honest, without their immediate example, I’m not sure any of the rest of us would’ve taken the explicit time to give our condolences to who—what—Infinity, their father, Erasmus, their line, just lost.
Infinity doesn’t walk to the door to close it, so I do. And then, the lock immediately snicks shut, followed by the shink of the deadbolt right behind it.
I’ve just turned around when Hector Cerise has escaped his family and looms in my face. “I need to see that clue.”
“Not here,” Evander growls, and then uses every ounce of his weight-room strength to muscle Hector away from Infinity’s door. He’s taller and heavier than the Cerise patriarch, and the older man fights aimlessly as he’s bodily dragged down the hall.
“Well, I’m not going back up to the study. We have a master to find, and I want to confirm it is the Blood Line relic before I lose access to that vial.”
“Your priorities are dismal,” Winter spits.
Both kids protesting, Hector pulls out his phone. I’m not sure who this man is—pushy, petty, entitled. But I’m starting to believe this is who Hector always was beneath his sheen of agreeability. “Just let me snap the clue and I’ll haul my priorities away from you.”
“I wish you’d haul them off the side of Mercy’s Point,” Winter mutters.
Evander nods to the hallway that leads to the grand staircase in the foyer. “We can use the tearoom.”
“That’s no better than the study,” Hector argues. “I’m not leaving this floor—”
“We can’t just dissect this clue like that didn’t just happen,” Winter argues, running ahead and then wheeling around so she can bar the lot of us from moving forward down the hallway. She stops in a square of light from the courtyard, eyes blazing, her whole body rigid with exasperation. “Luna was murdered. Murdered. And we’re not going to discuss it?”
“Winter’s right,” Lavinia agrees without hesitation. “How can we just meet about the clue like that didn’t just happen?” She and Kaysa are twined together, holding hands. The younger sister’s face still blotchy from tears shed at Luna’s expense, though the girl hardly knew the woman, her empathy’s been run ragged, astonishing for anyone and unheard of for a Blackgate. “I’m all for compartmentalizing but Nona Marsyas did not kill Luna.”
“Which means someone here did,” Winter snaps. “And only one of us is pushing forward with their dismal-ass priorities.”
She glares at Hector Cerise.
“If that look is to insinuate that I had anything to do with Luna’s death, I will not tolerate it, Winter.”
“I don’t give a shit what you’ll tolerate, Hector.”
“Papa, Winter’s right,” Hex says. “It’s pretty messed up that you want to hunt for that master tonight.”
“ Messed up? I have my eye on the prize, Junior. Finding the masters is the way out of here. I’m not going to let what happened to Luna distract me from getting my family home safe.”
“And gaining control of the Four Lines?” Evander challenges.
“I will hear no such thing from you .”
“Then hear it from me, Senior.” Hex steps toe-to-toe with Hector. He’s actually taller. “If someone murdered Luna, what’s to keep them from murdering any of us?”
“They did try to murder us.” I step in. All four Cerises turn as one—Winter too.
“Auden, what? Evander said it was unimportant…” A hand flies to Winter’s stomach as if she’s going to be sick. Her eyes read my face, Evander’s—looking for a hint. She rounds on Lavinia. “I thought you said it was just a cut.”
When I speak, it’s as much to her as to Hector. “Someone threw several knives at us in the woods today. Grazed Lavinia but got Evander in the back and nearly killed him. A fact I’m sure you guessed from the sheer amount of blood coating his jersey—you know what a lethal wound might spill, don’t you?”
Hector rears away, gesturing to my cousin. “He seems fine other than the ruined jersey for a school he no longer attends.”
“Because I healed him. If I hadn’t been with him, he would’ve died. And the attacker took aim at Lavinia too—three knives straight to her back that I repelled.”
All color drains from Winter’s face as Hector simply blinks at us, as if any reaction will lead to an accusation. As if he can avoid it.
“Both of us are currently leaders of our families. People who might be in line for High Sorcerer if it’s truly a competition—same as Luna,” Evander says, his baritone flat. “Where were you today, Hector?”
Anger flares Evander’s nostrils, leaving his shoulders heaving in a way that would make a normal man back away.
Hector, though, doesn’t move.
“The stress of what’s happening here is making you entertain ideas that are completely out of line and unreasonable, Evander. I refuse to answer this nonsense—”
“If you want to take a picture of this clue, you’ll answer where you were,” I say, brandishing Ursula’s magical paper. “Answer the question.”
“This is a waste of time!” Hector explodes, barely missing Sanguine with his arms thrown wide. She flinches. “We’re all dead if we’re locked in here. Don’t you see? We’ll die here. The lines will be in shambles. If I must find the remaining two relics by myself in the next twenty-seven hours, I will. Because I want out of here.”
“You want control more,” Evander accuses.
“I want both!” Hector roars. He stabs a finger at Evander. “I have dedicated my life to leading the Blood Line and that’s what I plan to do until the day I die. And if I find the next two relics by myself while the rest of you hide out, I should be given control of the Four Lines as High Sorcerer!”
“If you want to be High Sorcerer,” I reiterate, “you can answer the simple question of where you were today.”
Hector’s nostrils flare and he runs a hand through his pomaded hair. Sanguine places a hand on his elbow. “This is so childish. He was with me.” She gestures at her children. Still matching, the four of them. A unit. “He was with all of us. Looking for the masters at the Field of Stars and Shadrack’s Lookout. We were together all day. There. Are you happy? My God.”
Hector tosses out a hand, like there you go . The twins remain silent.
“They’re lying.”
Lavinia’s voice is soft but clear, determined. We all turn to her, and she looks Hector dead in the eye. “They weren’t together all day. Kaysa and I saw them—”
Hector’s head is shaking, jaw unhinged before she can even finish.
“Lies. Lies. Tossing out lies to divert from what her nona did.” Hector whirls on his family. “Enough of this. Let’s go.”
Sanguine jumps to join him, though there’s a note of hesitation in her expression. “But, darling, the picture—”
“I don’t need a picture,” Hector snaps. “This is our master, our clue. It lives in my blood.”
So much for fighting for Infinity’s vial. The patriarch bodily spins his wife toward their suite. Still, Hex and Ada hesitate—and Hector smacks the wall so hard the plaster splits and sags beneath the wallpaper. “Come on.”
This time, it’s not a direction, it’s an order.
This time, the twins follow.
“When push comes to shove it turns out someone is an asshole,” Kaysa mutters when they’re out of sight.
“Honestly, seeing this side of him makes me feel sorry for Hex, and that’s saying something,” Winter admits before literally seeming to shake the thought away. Whether or not it works, she rounds on Lavinia. “Is that true? Did you see them separate?”
“Yes,” both sisters confirm at once.
“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?” I ask. “After the knife attack?”
“Yeah, I need to hear way more about this knife attack,” Winter cuts in.
“I—” Lavinia begins.
Evander quickly hushes her. “We’re not talking here in the open. Not about this, not about Luna. We need a closed door. And a lock.”
“Where do you propose we go? The solarium is a crypt, the library and the tearoom don’t have locking doors, and Ursula’s study doesn’t have enough seating if we’re going to hunker down.” Winter ticks off every ill-fitting space on her fingers.
“I have an idea,” Evander says. “Follow me.”
We head for the wide, open safety of the grand staircase, following him upstairs at a healthy clip. Suddenly I know where we’re going. We turn left, past the alcove to the reading room, and then right, into a long hallway with a single door on the courtyard side.
Evander pauses, the key around his neck clinking with Ursula’s ring as he removes it. The Blackgate girls stand behind him, shoulders smashed together and hands still twined. They’re so consistent about it that I try to recall the Blackgates doing the same as kids but I come up blank. More proof, I suppose, that my memory is biased toward keeping my animus relationship intact.
“Do you truly trust them?” Winter leans into my ear.
In her voice is years’ worth of knowing. Six is not too young to remember the before as well as you recognize the after. I only have a few months on her; our memories are siblings, not cousins.
Lavinia’s dark eyes find mine as she steps over the threshold.
The past lives with me and though this present is both new and nearly unimaginable on all sides, after last night, after this morning and afternoon, I can be certain of one thing in this moment.
“Yes. I trust them.”