Chapter 6
I was up at dawn the next morning, waiting outside Cupid’s Confections.
After instructing Lydia in guitar, I had some insight into her schedule.
This was Thursday, and it was Lydia’s morning to tend to the shop until about noon.
I watched the windows and thought about her, wondering how my life would be different if I hadn’t been turned.
If I didn’t constantly have the threat of exposure hanging over my head.
Mary Bennet wore a long, warm coat and a scarf. As she walked, she kept glancing at something near her feet. “What is it?” she said softly. She paused in her walk and turned. I quickly ducked behind a large maple tree that was covered in snow.
“Who’s there?” Mary demanded, adjusting her glasses. “Show yourself.”
I needed to talk to her, and hiding from her definitely wouldn’t make her trust me any more than the little that she already did.
I stepped out from behind the tree, my feet crunching in the snow, realizing my footprints going in were also obvious.
So much for hiding. I put on my best smile. “Hello, new sister-in-law.”
Surprise flashed across her face. Whoever she expected to emerge, it clearly wasn’t me.
Her eyes immediately narrowed. “What do you want?”
“I wanted to know how Lydia is doing… truly.” I flinched. Those weren’t the words I planned to say, but a part of me couldn’t resist seeking the answer from someone who knew.
Mary folded her arms. “Her husband of only a few days kicked her out and is trying to end her marriage, so she could be better.”
I flinched again. “I guess I deserved that,” I muttered.
She raised an eyebrow. “It’s the truth.”
“Yeah. Look, my life right now is complicated.”
“Because you’re a vampire?”
I froze. I hadn’t expected her words. “Lydia told you?”
“You think she’s running around spilling your secrets?” Mary shook her head. “You could give her a little more credit.”
I had to hand it to these Bennet sisters. They may all differ from each other in so many ways, but they were loyal to each other.
“Then how did you find out?” I asked.
“I put it together months ago.”
“Back when you accused me of Isabella’s murder.”
Now Mary flinched. “Sorry about that.”
“I told you my life was complicated. It’s more than that. It’s dangerous, and by extension that means that I can, without intending to, really mess up Lydia’s life.”
She eyed me. “Lydia can handle a lot.”
“I know that. I just… look, I need to find someone.” I stepped closer to her and lowered my voice.
“Someone who might be behind why my life is so dangerous. I have a possession of theirs, a beanie. Someone I know mentioned that you might be acquainted with a werewolf or two who could help me track them down.” Man, this felt weird to say out loud on a sidewalk in the middle of the day.
I looked around to ensure we were truly alone.
There wasn't a soul in sight, though my phone started vibrating.
I ignored it.
Mary watched me closely, considering. “I may know someone who might be willing to help,” she said slowly. “He may say no.”
“But you will ask?”
She pursed her lips. “If I do this for you, then you promise to speak to my sister? Get whatever this is between you two worked out one way or the other?”
It was inevitable, anyway. “I swear I’ll do it.”
She nodded. “Meet me in the graveyard tonight at 8:00 p.m. If he agrees, he’ll be there with me.”
“Thank you.” My phone vibrated again.
Mary turned, shouldering her bag of books, and continued on her journey to the church where she worked at her internship.
I pulled my phone from my pocket. The messages were from Lydia.
Where are you? I’ve been outside your house for the past twenty minutes.
I stared at the text in surprise. So she wasn’t tending the shop. She must have left before I even arrived at Cupid’s Confections.
I’m waiting…
I desired to answer, but what? I had nothing she wanted to hear, and my heart twisted painfully every time I thought about saying it.
You can’t ignore me forever, George Wickham. Check your doorstep. I left something for you.
I hoped it wasn’t another dead body. But the compulsion I’d been putting off since that morning was finally becoming too much, and at least I had an idea of where she was.
I drove to my townhouse and got out, walking up to the front porch.
On it sat a small potion bottle and a card with stylish snowflakes fluttering down across a musical staff.
At the bottom it read, “Sending warmth and quiet chords of comfort as you heal through the hush of winter.” I rolled my eyes and held in a smile.
It was like Lydia to send me a get-well-soon card.
I flipped it open and read the message scrawled in her wild, flowing handwriting.
I assume you’re going to track down the killer.
Here’s a truth potion that might help. I’ve added a little Emberglass Dust that I picked up at the apothecary yesterday.
It adds a compulsion to the potion so that the person you give it to will have to answer your questions.
All you have to do is put a drop in their drink. Let me know if you need anything else.
-Lydia
P.S. I’m still not signing the papers until we talk.
I tucked the note safely away with the truth potion in my coat. She was too good—this would come in handy tonight when I confronted Sephira.
It didn’t take much time to find Lydia after leaving my place. She was in town hanging out with some friends at a small gift shop. She was such a social butterfly. It was partially what had attracted me to her. We both enjoyed being around people.
I watched her through the window for a bit, knowing if anyone saw me I’d look like a total stalker, but I didn’t care.
The way her eyes sparkled when she engaged with others, or the slight brush of her long light-brown hair had me watching her every move, wishing there wasn’t a pane of glass and all of my issues separating us.
After a few moments, she said goodbye to her friends and moved toward the exit.
I slid across the street and into the alleyway on the side of the building to avoid being detected.
I hunched in the darkness and watched her from the shadows.
As she left, the door of the gift shop banged shut, catching her scarf.
Lydia’s hands flew to her throat, pain in her gaze.
My chest clenched, and I raced forward, only a blur.
I opened the door, freeing her. In a flash, I disappeared inside, heading toward the back. I hated seeing Lydia in pain.
The door of the shop flew open.
“Did someone just open this door?” Lydia demanded.
“I didn’t see anyone but you, Lydia,” a shop worker said.
Her eyes traveled around the store, then narrowed as she sighed and disappeared out into the daylight. I worked my way to the rear of the store and went out the back alley to ensure there wouldn’t be any accidental meetings.
I needed to see her. Get her to sign the annulment papers, but I also knew I had to do it at the right time.
If I came at her at the wrong moment, she’d use her determined, uncompromising ways to somehow suck me into her world and make me forget about my plans.
That was Lydia. For better or worse, she could be a literal force of nature.
I followed Lydia until she arrived at the Enchanted Teapot.
She sat at a table outside alone in the cold and gazed around expectantly.
Twinkling fairy lights were strung across the shop’s awning, their glow tangled with frosted paper hearts that fluttered gently, though there was no breeze.
I took up a spot behind a few bushes and a large tree that decorated the front walkway of a nearby shop on the other side of the street.
Lydia checked her phone and sighed. “Come on,” she whispered as she rubbed her gloved hands together while occasionally breathing into them to warm her face.
Bradley walked out of the Enchanted Teapot with two steaming mugs. Before the door shut, I heard the enchanted teapot quartet singing “I Only Want You.”
Bradley settled into a chair across from Lydia and handed her one of the steaming mugs.
I narrowed my gaze on them. What was Bradley doing, meeting up with Lydia?
She took a sip from the mug and smiled. “Mmm… Earl Grey tea with steamed milk and vanilla syrup. You have good taste.”
Bradley returned the smile. “It’s the seasonal special. You strike me as someone who appreciates what’s in season—and in style.”
“So tell me.” She leaned forward in her seat. “Why is my husband trying to destroy our marriage and everything we hold dear?”
Oh, no. He was meeting with her to talk about me? This was not okay. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.
Bradley let out a sigh and took a long swig of his mug. He glanced around to make sure there was nobody nearby before starting. “You see, George Wickham is a complicated fellow with a complicated past. Becoming a vampire changed him. He felt… like he needed to give up his friends and family.”
“But why would he do that?”
“Most vampires feel that way, I believe,” Bradley continued.
“But George, well, even for a vampire, death has had a way of following him. I think he convinced himself that turning into a vampire made his life—made him—too dangerous, and since then he hasn’t really let himself truly connect with anyone. ”
This was going too far. What gave him the right to talk to Lydia about this? To make conjectures about me—no matter how accurate they may be.
Lydia’s brows drew together, the steam of her mug curling up into the shape of little tiny hearts that slowly rose up before dissipating. “But he married me.”
“Most likely, he believed it was the best way to protect you.”
I pulled up Bradley’s number on my phone and glared at it, as if he could feel my outrage through just his contact information. I opened a text chat.
What are you doing, traitor?
Bradley took another sip of his drink and casually glanced at his phone that he’d set on the table. He picked it up and fired off a text.
There are no traitors here, only friends.
You’re meeting with her behind my back to discuss me. I can’t think of anything lower than that.
I’m helping a friend better understand another friend so that their relationship might flourish.
“What’s going on?” Lydia suddenly demanded. She craned her neck to look at Bradley’s phone. “Is he texting you right now?”
“Why yes, he is, as a matter of fact,” Bradley responded.
“What does it say?” She grasped the phone from Bradley and read the texts. Her gaze rose and she looked around. “He’s watching us, isn’t he? I could have sworn someone was following me.” She appeared ready to stand up on the chair and shout my name like a mother hen looking for a troublesome chick.
But instead, her shoulders slumped, and she sank into her seat. “So you’re saying he married me out of guilt? Does he really not want to be with me?”
“I don’t think it was out of guilt. Most guys don’t go around marrying people every time they feel guilty about something. And as to whether he wants to be with you… that’s something you will have to ask Wickham.”
“Thank you, Bradley. You’ve given me a lot to consider.”
“No problem, Lydia. Oh, Mason is calling. It’s probably his regular ‘stop meddling in other people’s business and come spend the morning with me’ call. I’m afraid I’m going to have to run.” He stood, gathering his coffee mug into his hand. “Let’s meet up again sometime soon.”
“Bye.” Lydia sat at the table as Bradley walked into the store to return the mug and gave her one last wave before heading down the street. Then she whispered fiercely, “I’m not giving up on us, George Wickham, not by a long shot. One way or another, we will work this out.”