“I don’t think he could be any more of a crank, so I might as well have some fun with it. I hope you have a good reason for keeping him around because that guy needs to learn how to chill.”

Killian’s smirk became more pronounced. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned closer—a very different sort of heat rising in his eyes this time. “And what do you mean by chill?”

I gave Killian the side eye and took a pointed step away from him. “I wish you’d stop testing me.”

“But it’s such fun!”

“For you, maybe.”

“You don’t seem scared now, but you do appear uncomfortable.”

“Want me to bat my eyelashes and sigh over you so we can both be uncomfortable?”

Killian’s smirk deepened. “Try it.”

This, of course, meant there was no way I’d do it. The more I thought about it the more I doubted Killian could be made uncomfortable. Any female stupid enough to cast doe eyes at him probably got bulldozed. I opened my mouth, intending to share the recent development with Killian, but was interrupted by a loud, piercing scream.

Chapter Fourteen

Hazel

Killian was at the door first, ripping it open and pausing in the doorway. He already had his dagger out by the time I joined him, poking my head into the hall.

I didn’t see anyone, but I thought I could hear faint sobs.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Rather than respond, Killian grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, pushed me back into his office and shut the door in my face, his quiet footsteps retreating down the hallway.

I stared for a moment or two—did he really think I was a pet that would follow non-verbal commands? Oh, heck no! I wrenched the door open and tilted my head, following the faint sound of crying. It wasn’t soft sobs, but something closer to hysterics with painful cries mixed in.

I followed the noise down a flight of stairs and into a back hallway. A woman in a maid uniform stood at an open doorway, her shoulders shaking as she tried to hold in her sobs. Past her I could see Killian talking with Celestina and Josh.

Killian turned around and gave me an annoyed look when I thumped closer, but he didn’t say anything to me and continued his chat with his First and Second Knights.

I placed a hand on the maid’s back and patted her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

The maid slumped against the doorway and pointed inside the room.

It was a bedroom—one of the vampire ones because it was fancier, though it lacked photos or personal items. I scanned the room before I saw the body positioned by the open window. It was a woman—she looked young, maybe just a few years older than me, and her eyes were open, but I could see from the doorway that she wasn’t moving.

Another murder victim.

I wanted to close my eyes, but I made myself swallow and study her. I would have expected the victim to be a vampire given the location, except she wasn’t wearing a suit, or any of the fancy workout clothes the Drake vampires lived in, so chances were she was human. The room didn’t look disturbed, so she couldn’t have fought whoever killed her, unless they moved her afterwards. But she didn’t have a mark on her, either. Not even a drop of her blood had been spilled—which was probably done on purpose, or the vampires would have scented her out earlier. I didn’t recognize her, and she wasn’t wearing a servant’s uniform, so she was most likely a blood donor.

She was a regular human—employed by supernaturals, not even a member of it.

And now she was dead.

It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t done anything wrong. As a human, she shouldn’t have been pulled into whatever stupid feud had egged the murderer on. None of it involved her.

My throat ached with the tears I would have shed if I hadn’t cried myself dry already. I was vaguely aware of the vampires that rushed up and down the hallway as they searched the house for her killer, and I slowly curled my hands into fists.

Celestina slipped out of the room—running an errand for Killian.

I licked my lips. “Celestina.”

She paused just in front of me. “Yes?”

“Will the Regional Committee of Magic really not help when innocent humans are killed?” I asked.

Celestina didn’t even have to think about it. “This is not the first human victim we’ve had, and they haven’t been inspired to help yet. They are happy to have something bother the Eminence.”

I glanced back at the deceased blood donor.

Celestina patted my shoulder, then continued on her way.

I barely noticed; I was etching the blood donor’s face into my mind.

I was weak and subject to Killian’s whims, but the blood donor’s death had triggered something in me. I wasn’t going to sit by and let this sicko get away with this. Feeble as I was, maybe there was something I could do to help.

Because this was wrong. And it had to stop.

I lingered in the hallway for about an hour, hoping I would naturally get swept up into the unavoidable vampire meeting the Drake Family would hold to discuss the blood donor’s murder, but it never happened.

I did find out her name—Michelle Farrow—and I wasn’t going to forget it. Ever.

I also found out her suspected cause of death was strangulation or suffocation—no stab wounds, bite marks, or magical spells had ended her life.

No other information was forthcoming, and eventually it got too late. When I found myself fighting to keep my eyes open, I knew I had to call it a night.

But I set my alarm with the plan to get up early and ask Celestina what the vampires had discussed.

Unfortunately, Celestina was out when I woke up. So was Josh.

This meant there was only one vampire I felt comfortable approaching—though I did consider asking even Rupert before I dragged myself to his office.

It was kind of dangerous. I hadn’t purposely sought him out ever before—and there was a faint chance he may punish me for daring to.

But there was no way I was going to give up so easily. This was for Michelle, for everyone who had come before her, and the desire to keep anyone from coming after her.

I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders back, and knocked on the door of Killian’s office.

“What is it, Wizard?” Killian asked through the door.

I bolstered my courage and poked my head in. “Hey.” I studied him—and most importantly his eyebrows—trying to get a handle on his mood.

He was seated behind his desk, wearing a suit like always. It was possible he’d been awake the whole night and hadn’t yet slept, but I couldn’t tell. His face didn’t show any extra signs of concern or frustration.

But he also hadn’t started smirking or making fun of me the moment I entered either, which might mean he really didn’t like me seeking him out after all, or that the murderer situation had killed off his already twisted sense of humor.

He raised an eyebrow at me—not at the angle that meant he was amused but the one reserved for impatience—and stared.

I tugged on the sleeves of my suit. “Did you find out anything more about the murderer?”

“Why?”

I tried to come up with a believable explanation before giving up—he’d never believe me anyway. “Because I want to know.”

Killian leaned back in his chair and studied me intently enough to make me shift my weight from one foot to the other and back again.

“It’s a vampire matter. Do you really wish to be involved?”

“It’s not a vampire matter—whoever is doing this killed humans. That means it involves all of us.”

More staring ensued. It felt like somehow Killian was trying to peer into my soul.

“Strictly speaking, there are no new leads,” he abruptly said. “We found no signs of forced entry; no intruders were detected. The murderer is using fae spells—there’s no way they could move undetected through the house and not be caught. But it seems that for the same reason the murderer themselves cannot be fae. The Drake lands are warded against most spells. A fae couldn’t cross the property line without raising the alarm.”

“It’s likely what you thought: someone who has fae support?” I guessed.

A sharp nod. “But we have no physical evidence, and no leads to follow. Though we have concluded that Drake Hall has been compromised, or this wouldn’t happen—which is a worst-case scenario because if it is compromised it might be a fae after all.”

I absently flicked my ponytail over my shoulder. “Nah, can’t be.”

A muscle twitched in Killian’s cheek. “I didn’t know you had become a master of home security.” His voice was practically a purr, and a chill ran down my spine at the show of his temper.

“I’m not,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice calm. “But I am a wizard.”

The angles of Killian’s face seemed less severe as he straightened in his chair. “And?”

“As a wizard I can detect all magic,” I reminded him. “I mean, even though I don’t have much access to magic, I can totally feel it when someone uses magic. I might not know who it is and where they are, but believe me—you can’t miss it. It’s like someone electrifies the air.”

I was rambling. No—not only was I rambling, I was schooling Killian Drake on magic 101. There was no way he didn’t know this—I glanced at the Eminence, who was staring at me, this time with both of his eyebrows raised.

They hovered at an angle I wasn’t wholly familiar with—which made me panic a little. What did it mean?

“Can you discern between fae magic and wizard magic?” Killian asked.

“Yeah. Fae magic has a sort of floral feel to it. Wizard magic is tangier and more electric.”

I had thought about the killer a lot while I’d been wasting time the previous night.

Since I hadn’t felt even a spark of fae magic throughout the evening of the murder—there wasn’t even a faint whiff of it in the room—it had occurred to me that my wild guess of an inside job maybe wasn’t so far off.