Page 33 of Of Magic and Murder

“Honey? It’s Penelope. Please tell me you guys didn’t leave yet…”

CHAPTER 9

THE COVEN HOUSE

mother sent gus out with donuts and a badge.

killers, watch out!

— gus

Riordan is adamant that he’s going to do whatever it takes to figure out who committed a pair of murders in Moonburrow.

All we know currently is that the perpetrator is a wolf shifter. When we were at the initial crime scene, I wondered out loud if it was possible a feral wolf—whether wild or a disturbed shifter stuck in their fur—could’ve done it. While Max doesn’t want to count that out, he kept going back to the missing scent and the idea that the killer used wolfsbane. Most ferals are too far gone to think about covering up any trace of their attack, while wild wolves wouldn’t even know how to use the properties of the herb. Besides, Moonburrow is in Maryland. There are no local populations of wild wolves in this state, and if they were passing through for some reason, the presence of the pack and its range of shifter types would be enough of a warning to keep the wild beasts away.

Which leaves us with a shifter.

Because I’m fixated, I asked Riordan, too, if it could be a feral. He doesn’t think there are any of the twisted shifters in Moonburrow, but what else does that leave for suspects?

Only every wolf shifter in the Moonshadow Pack…

It has to be shifter clever enough to hide his scent, kill two witches, and somehow get through wards that were specifically strengthened to protect Moonburrow from outsiders…

And I’m supposed to do my best impression of a detective and try to figure out who.

I almost turn around and dash back upstairs. At the moment, I’m standing in the bakery kitchen, holding a small brown paper bag Honey insisted I take before she disappeared out front, when three firm knocks sound against the back door and my heart jumps to my throat.

He told me he would be here early Friday morning. Unless someone has decided to break in through the back, but they chose to knock first, it has to be him. I swallow roughly, swipe my free hand over my hip, and walk over to the door.

And there he is.

My stomach gives one traitorous little flutter as I murmur a soft good morning to Riordan.

He steps easily into the kitchen. Today’s expensive-looking shirt of choice is a deep charcoal grey, only a couple of shades lighter than his black slacks and shoes. He looks freer than he did on Wednesday; the curse around him isn’t as dark as it was then. He has his badge in place on his waistband, his eyes alert, and his hair as perfect as always.

Riordan gives me a strange look as he takes me in.

I immediately want to quail and, because I do, I fight against the urge and the anxieties and, instead, keep my eyes on him. Not directly into his gaze enough that his wolf would interpret it as a challenge, but I refuse to act like prey to his predator if I can.

I had enough of that a long time ago.

It’s him. Something about Riordan has me on edge. You would think that, after spending two months in Moonburrow where there are wolves everywhere, I’d have gotten better at dealing with my nerves. Up until Olivia appeared and said she’d been murdered by one, I’d been okay. The only time I let my fear get the better of me was after the chief deputy ordered me to sit down and be quiet, and I could’ve sworn that was more because he stripped my control from me at that moment and it was terrifying.

But no. Despite becoming comfortable around Max Lobo since he comes to visit the bakery every day and I keep running into him, his brother… I don’t know. I feel my magic rise up every time he’s near, and though part of it’s because he’s cursed and I haven’t been able to find an opening to begin unraveling it yet, there’s another more nagging insistence that I need to be on my guard around him.

Because of the locator spell? It’s possible—and screw possible. It’s probable that my spell brought Riordan to Moonburrow in a way that backfired so spectacularly, the spell is demanding that we stay close.

Why else would he insist that I help him in his investigation? I understand that he needs me to communicate with Olivia, but how can he expect me to help him solve it? Sure, Olivia vowed she wouldn’t be able to move on until I told her who killed her, but no one can really believe that I can actually find the murderer?

At the same time, why do I feel this empty sense of loss whenever he’s gone? I convinced myself it was either a fluke or my magic’s reaction to his curse that led me to just know that he had left. I got used to his absence, no longer noticing it after a few days to the point that I didn’t even know he’d gotten permission to be let in through the wards and come home until Roxy came into the library and said he was back.

But when I came face to face with him for the first time since a set of silver jail bars were between us? I felt my whole body hum, coming to life.

The same thing happened right this very second, and while I try to get myself under control, I can’t help but obsess over the look he’s giving me as he joins me in the kitchen.

Tugging the sleeves of the oversized caftan hanging over my leggings, I peer up at him. “Is everything okay?”

He shakes his head. “Yeah. It’s just… it’s eighty-five degrees out. You sure you won’t be too warm in that thing?”