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I lifted an eyebrow. “What magic?”
He held out his hand that held the ring. “This, for one. It’s an ancient relic passed down through my mother’s side of the family. Their name was Fox, and they once owned the grounds on which this hall stands.”
My eyes widened and I whipped my head around to Ben. His face, too, showed his suspicions. “Was one of her kin buried in the Totten cemetery?”
“Yes,” Hearth confirmed as he pocketed the ring. “Her father Thomas Fox was buried there. When I heard he was targeting these graveyards as he had targeted those in Skotadi, I traveled there to make sure his grave was untouched. That’s where you noticed me last night.”
“You were a day too late,” I informed him.
His eyebrows crashed down. “I see. Was he given a proper sending?”
Ben shook his head. “There was no need. Unlike the others, he had retained his faculties and found us.”
Hearth’s eyes widened. “My God. Then where is he?”
I cast an ambivalent look at Ben, and he merely shook his head in answer to the question. “We can’t say where he is, but we left him in safe hands. Your father, if this is true, won’t be able to touch his soul again.”
The man’s face fell. “Then you don’t believe me?”
“What proof do you have that your father is involved?” Ben questioned him.
“None whatsoever. He is careful not to leave a trail,” Hearth admitted. His eyes fell on me, or more specifically, the ribbon wrapped around my wrist, and a bittersweet smile slipped onto his lips. “But is my silence as to the true identity of your friend here not enough to prove that I can be trusted? At least by you?”
A little bit of color drained from my face as I set a hand over my ribbon. “You can see it?”
“And feel it,” he added as he rubbed his left hand in his right palm. “That was quite the shock you gave me the other day. You must have quite a powerful item there.”
“What the hell, Hearth!” The shout came from Wexelman who had dropped back into his chair. He glared up at his client with his hands balled into fists on the desk. “Why didn’t you tell me about any of this sooner?”
Hearth smiled and shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother you, Phil. You’ve been under enough pressure putting on this tour. I thought if you knew you might explode.”
“You’re damn right I’d explode!” Phil snapped as he leapt to his feet. “It’s not every day that the leader of one of the oldest houses in Skotadi tries to pin a rap on his client! And raising the dead? What the hell is wrong with him?”
Hearth’s good humor failed him as he closed his eyes and bowed his head. “He was always against my going into music, or entertainment, for that matter. That was an impulse from my mother’s side of the family, as the name of this hall can attest.”
“The name of this hall?” I asked him.
“Fox Hall,” he informed me as he swept his eyes over the ceiling. “My mother’s kin were avid sponsors of games for this city. She married my father out of convenience, but he stamped the joy out of her life.” He balled his hands into fists at his sides and gritted his teeth. “He wore her down until she was nothing, and she died in that unhappy state. On her deathbed, she made me promise to live my life to the fullest. What could I do but obey my mother and my wishes? So I ran away, taking with me this ring that my mother had left me, and a guitar I had purchased with my own money. That was some five years ago.”
“Have you spoken with your father since then?” Ben questioned him.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Only through some rather heated letters. I was desperate for money and thought to ask him for some coins. He sent me a crow call that was so loud and abusive that my landlord ousted me from my flat that very day.”
His story caught Phil’s attention. “And that’s where I found you strumming on your instrument.”
Hearth smiled and bowed his head to him. “Yes. You were my savior during the lowest point of my life.”
“Don’t go getting all mushy on me,” Phil scolded him as he cupped his chin in his hand with his elbow on the desk and sighed. “I’ve dealt with music critics before, but your dad’s gone to a whole different length to get you to stop singing.”
Hearth set his hand on his pocket and frowned. “Yes. He wasn’t fond of my taking my mother’s heirloom, or my leaving without his permission. He believes he owns the world, and when the world says otherwise he lashes out.”
“But to make people rise from the dead?” I spoke up as I shook my head. “And why is he raising academy people?”
Hearth stared at the floor and furrowed his brow. “My father had belonged to the academy. He was gifted in the brewing of magic spells, as many of his ancestors had been, and graduated with honors in that field.”
Ben took a seat on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “I know of one man who could help us find out about his past, and perhaps how he is raising the dead, but unfortunately-”
“Hey! Get back here!”
