Chapter Thirty-Five
THIRTY-FIVE
I need more tracking lessons. I can see the use of them here, as Bishop tracks Hanora from our room.
I also see the mistake I made. I didn’t pay attention to her scent, so I’m not sure I could find her even if it were an easy trail.
My mother taught me to always take note of someone when I’m introduced, and not simply presume I’ll remember them at a casual glance.
Being able to put names to faces helps people think well of you.
I need to do the same with scents. Start by making a conscious effort, and it’ll become automatic, as it is for Bishop.
Then tracking lessons will show me how to tease out a scent from a hall that has had people passing to and fro.
They’ll also teach me how to determine which trail is the most recent.
For now, Ann and I follow a few steps behind Bishop to let him creep soundlessly down this hall and then another.
The wolves have all returned, but there’s less noise than I expect.
At Trevelyan, the hunt left the wolves giddy and eager to continue the party into the night, whether it was with drinking, gambling, or carousing with the maids.
While I’d certainly heard the Cambrians laughing and talking from the window, now that they’re in, they seem to be quiet, perhaps in deference to their guests.
Luckily for us, Hanora avoided the returning men, which means we can, too.
We find her soon enough. She’s hiding. Or, at least, she’s tucked herself away somewhere she expects Bishop won’t follow. The water closet.
I suppose it’s possible she just happened to need the toilet after her plans went awry.
So we wait. And we wait. Bishop has backed away, but I have a feeling that door won’t open anytime soon.
Here, my improved sense of smell—and slightly improved sense of hearing—helps by confirming she is not actually on the toilet dealing with an obstruction of the bowels.
But after I cast an unlock on the door, I open it very carefully, because it’d be embarrassing to jump in shouting “Ah-ha!” only to find she’s indeed on the toilet.
She isn’t. Well, no, actually she is, but she’s sitting on the seat with her skirts still in place. When we step in, she leaps up with “Oh!” and then a scowl and “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
Ann follows me in and I lock the door behind her. “It seems you need a bit of help. The first step is to lift your skirts. Otherwise, it makes a terrible mess.”
“I wanted a moment of privacy,” she says. “There’s none to be had in this house. Now, if you would both please leave…?”
I choke on a laugh. “I do commend you for trying, but somehow, I don’t think I’m going to turn around and leave after I caught you naked in my husband’s bed.”
A sly look. “Maybe he invited me.”
“And also told you to sedate me? And then changed his mind and tried to throw you out?”
“He heard you moving about and knew you weren’t asleep.”
“Is this really the direction you wish to travel?”
She lifts her chin. “It’s not my fault that your husband is bored with you already. Men are all alike. They dream of bedding a fine-born lady, but then they get one in the bed and discover a frigid virgin.”
Ann does something I don’t think I’ve ever heard her do before. She bursts out laughing. Then she quickly presses a hand to her mouth to stop it.
“I would bet my life that is not the problem,” she says. “You should have heard the Albion wolves complaining about the noise coming from their bedchamber. And by ‘complaining,’ I mean envying. In a house of werewolves, there’s no disguising a frigid lover.”
“Your cousin has learned to make noise, that is all. She will still know nothing of the games men like to play.”
I lift a hand. “And this isn’t a game I wish to play, where I prove you wrong when we both know you’re only hoping to humiliate me into wondering whether Bishop actually did invite you to his bed. He did not. You drugged me and tried to seduce him, which I must say was a ridiculous plan.”
She bristles. “Ridiculous?”
“Yes. Which is why I don’t think it was your idea. Someone told you to do it.”
“No one tells me to do anything.”
“So this preposterous plan was your own? You actually thought you could seduce a newly mated Alpha? And what? Convince him to leave his wife for you? Even if that was your scheme—which, again, would be ridiculous—you don’t know him well enough for that.”
“Well enough for what?”
“To decide whether he was worth it. He might be an Alpha, but he could also be a monster. You would first want to be sure you actually were trading up.”
Her jaw sets. “You know nothing about me.”
“Are the conditions here so bad that you’d throw in with any man who happened along?”
“Of course not.”
“And if you did wish to do so, would you not choose one of the other two? Handsome wolves who have status but are not mated.”
“I like a challenge.”
“Enough of this,” Ann says. “Call Bishop in and let him do this his way.”
“If there is torture to be done, I will do it myself,” I say. “I don’t need a man for that.”
“You’re a witch.” Hanora sneers. “All you can do is hide and protect yourself.”
I grab her by the throat and shove her against the wall. “Please repeat that. I don’t think I heard you.”
She scowls. “And I don’t think you want me using my powers.”
I laugh softly. “Your power is vision. You’re not even a high-powered vision half-demon, which means all you can do is see really well.” I tighten my grip on her throat and she grabs at my arm, but I cast a binding spell and she goes still.
I break the spell. “Shall we try another round?”
“No one told me to do anything.”
“So it was entirely your idea to murder the Alpha of the Albion Pack?”
Her eyes widen in what looks like genuine shock. “What?”
Ann answers for me. “It would be the only way to do it—when he’s not with his enforcer or his mate. When he might fall asleep, exhausted, easily killed.”
“W—why would—?”
“Bishop is a new Alpha in a precarious situation. If he died, the Albion Pack would cease to exist, which might be exactly what your Alpha wants.”
“Doyle? No. Never. He wants to work with Mr. Daniels. How would killing him help?”
I cut in. “So it was Doyle who told you to seduce Bishop?”
“He would never do that.”
“So someone else did.”
“I tried to seduce your husband because I wanted to seduce him. That’s all. I made a mistake.”
Her voice has gone up several notches, and it has me looking at the door. She’s worried she’ll be overheard.
I cast a privacy spell, and then I tell her what I’ve done and that we can speak freely. Her look drips pure scorn.
“I have nothing to say,” she says. “Except that you are a fat cow who thinks she is a pretty heifer.”
I arch one brow. “Why would I want to be a pretty heifer? Why would anyone?”
“Your husband knew you were awake. Otherwise, he would have leapt on me like a starving hound on fresh meat.”
“You take that back. My mate isn’t a man-eater, and to say so is the height of insult.”
“You think you’re clever. You’re not. You’re a fat—”
“Did that work the first time? No. Try again.”
She seethes, and I snap the privacy spell and look at Ann.
“She thinks insults will get me to throttle her again,” I explain to my cousin.
“Sadly, she’s very bad at it.” I look at Hanora.
“You want bruises as physical proof that I tried to extract information from you, and you’re raising your voice so it’s clear you didn’t give me that information. Who are you afraid of?”
Hanora glares and lowers her voice to a hiss. “If I were afraid of someone, who do you think I’d be more afraid of? You or them?”
“We could call in Bishop,” Ann says.
Hanora only snorts. “Go ahead. I’ll take my chances with a tame lapdog over a rabid cur, thank you.”
I resist the urge to defend my husband. “We could help—”
“I don’t want your fucking charity.” She seems about to say more and then pauses a second before saying, “Treasure Island. Have you read it?”
Ann blinks at the non sequitur.
“I’m very fond of adventure stories,” I say. “That one has a distinct lack of women, but most do, sadly.”
“Mortui non mordent.”
Ann’s confusion grows, but I tilt my head. That’s when I pay more attention to Hanora’s accent. It’s Irish and I believe her name is Irish as well, which means she may be Catholic, and the phrase is Latin, but what does it have to do with…?
“Oh,” I say.
She looks marginally impressed that I translated and made the connection.
Mortui non morden.
Dead men don’t bite. It’s a line from Treasure Island.
I cast the privacy spell. “You’re afraid someone will kill you to keep you quiet?”
She shakes her head. “It’s a lie.” She nods to Ann. “For her.”
I frown. “I don’t understand.”
“Then you aren’t as clever as you think you are.”
“No, your clue isn’t enough—”
She walks to the door and takes the knob. I don’t stop her as she unlocks it. Then she turns and looks back. “You used a spell to unlock that door earlier.”
I nod.
“The basement is also locked, though I don’t think your little witchy spell will open it.”
She pulls the water closet door and startles back when she sees Bishop right there, hovering. I motion for him to let her leave, and he does.
The moment Hanora is gone, I understand her “clue,” though I wait until we’re back in Ann’s room to explain to her and Bishop.
“She said dead men don’t bite,” I say. “That’s from Treasure Island.”
Bishop nods. “It means that a dead compatriot can’t turn on you.”
“I thought she meant she was afraid of being killed if she talked, and she probably is, but she said that, for Ann, ‘dead men don’t bite’ is a lie. Because being dead won’t keep someone from talking to a necromancer.”
Ann frowns. “She was very interested in my powers. You believe she was suggesting we talk to a ghost? I haven’t seen any here. I could try a summoning, I suppose.”
“She also said my unlock spell won’t work on the basement door.”
“She wants us to go into the basement,” Bishop says.
“Could she not have just said that?” Ann says. “You were using a privacy spell when she said that part.”
“I don’t think she’s particularly inclined to tell us anything,” I say. “Maybe she thought tossing out riddles would get rid of us. Or maybe it was like throwing the question to the fates. If we can figure it out, then we deserve it, and she didn’t actually tell us anything.”
“It could be a trap.”
Bishop shakes his head. “Then why not just lure us into the basement? No need to mention speaking to the dead.”
“So what do the two have—?” I stop and look at Ann. “You can summon a ghost if you’re near its body, yes?”
“I can.”
“Then I think that’s where we’re going to find whoever she wants us to talk to.” I look from Bishop to Ann. “Buried in the basement.”
I don’t want Bishop coming into the basement with us.
While this doesn’t feel like a trap, it also seems very unwise to put our Alpha in yet another situation where he could be murdered.
This means a slight delay to the process and possibly an argument that requires a privacy spell as our tempers and voices rise.
I remember the first time I heard Lenora and Alfred argue.
I’d been so certain it marked the end of their relationship.
They hadn’t been together long, but I knew my aunt had fallen for him in a way she never fell for any of her casual lovers.
But I’d read enough novels to know that a fight between lovers meant the relationship was fracturing.
Lenora had laughed. Didn’t I argue with her? Hadn’t I argued with my mother? It’s part of most relationships, especially if the participants are strong-willed. Even more if they have a temper. Bishop and I haven’t fought since our wedding, but only because we’re too busy fighting everyone else.
Lenora taught me that arguing is only dangerous when you say things you can’t take back. Hurtful things. Cruel things. Even if you might think you’d never do that, you never know what will come out in the heat of the moment. So be mindful.
This particular argument is heated but rather repetitive.
“I am not letting you in that basement unprotected.”
“Well, I am not letting you follow me into that basement where you’ll be unprotected.”
Round and round we go until we realize, nearly simultaneously, that these two concerns are not at odds with one another. Going into that basement with protection doesn’t necessarily mean taking Bishop.
The answer, of course, is Rufus and Julius.
One of them can come into the basement with Ann and me, and one can stay with Bishop, in case it is a trap and leaving him alone abovestairs is just as dangerous.
Bishop wants Rufus with me, and I back down here and agree. Personally, I’d rather Rufus stayed with Bishop, but Bishop has survived this long with his cousin at his side.
Bishop goes to rouse them while Ann and I find the basement stairs. We need to be quiet, of course, but by now, the wolves are all upstairs in the bedrooms.
The basement entrance seems to be in the kitchen.
That’s not easy to determine when the kitchen has multiple doors, all of them locked.
Yet I use this opportunity to practice my scenting skills by maneuvering onto the floor and sniffing under the doors and warning Ann that if she doesn’t stop her stifled snickers, I’ll cast a fireball at her ankles.
There are three doors. Underneath two, I smell food. The third brings the distinctive musty odor of a basement. All three doors have keyed locks, and I can easily open the one into the presumed basement, but even after I do, it doesn’t budge.
There are no spellcasters in the house, so I’m not dealing with another supernatural’s magic. That’s when I discover a far more prosaic answer. A second lock.
When using a light spell to peer around the doorframe, I spot a bolt at eye level. Feeling around, I get part of the frame to pop out and find the keyed lock behind it.
“Nicely done,” I whisper with a grin.
When I cast a spell directly on the lock, it opens, and I smile to myself.
I ease open the door just as Bishop, Julius, and Rufus join us, having evidently followed my scent trail.
Bishop’s brows shoot up as he sees me holding the door open.
“I feel as if I should wave like a magician,” I say. “Ta-da! The unopenable door has been opened.”
“Hanora never said it couldn’t be opened,” Ann points out.
“She said it couldn’t be opened with my spell, which is exactly what I used …
once I found the hidden lock. Never doubt me.
I am a powerful witch who can open all basement doors.
Not only that…” I lift my fingers and a light ball appears.
“Magic to guide our way. I might not know any lethal spells, but I do light up a room.”
“You do indeed,” Julius says. “Bishop and I will remain here while you three go down.”