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Cade, apparently used to this, resumed the summation, planting his index finger on a spot on the map. “Approximately twelve hours later, Miss Grayson shows up in the tracking spell on Witches Walk. I found them right about here, but Malcolm was already dead.”
Twelve hours? Maker help me. I covered my wounded hand and scowled at the little marks on the blueprints depicting the tunnel. I had been out cold for twelve hours with people handing me off, carting me around, or otherwise inspecting my unresponsive body. It was a violation of the severest kind and I wished suddenly that I could kick something.
Delilah would be best.
“Somewhere in this timeframe, Lord Malcolm stumbles on the tunnel that my Constables have been unable to locate for several months now,” Eucilla said, though by her tone I could hear her suspicion.
I straightened, not liking her tone. “Malcolm was not a warlock trafficker.”
“Of course not,” Eucilla said absently. “If he were one of them, he wouldn’t be dead. An operation like this doesn’t have room for rivalries. Everything is compartmentalized so that one group doesn’t quite know what the other group is doing. They only have the specific orders they’ve been given, and a great deal of pay once they’ve carried them out. It’s what has made them so difficult to track.”
“Maybe Malcolm was already trailing Nora?” Cade suggested.
Eucilla snorted in a very unladylike way. “That would make sense, curse his hide.”
Cade frowned. “So he stumbles on the passage, finds Nora, and chooses to rescue her?”
“Likely for his own purposes, but yes. No doubt he would have attempted to use her to lure Derrick back into the fold. That has been the man’s intent since the moment Derrick was sworn into the CEB, after all.”
I crossed my arms, not at all liking the conversation or that I was so haphazardly in the center of it. There was an odd mix of emotions too; shame for thinking he was a trafficker, annoyance for thinking he might have been altruistic in his rescue – though admittedly that had lasted less than a minute – and finally, an increasing sense of vulnerability that I could neither shake nor ignore.
“So then who killed him?” I asked. “He insisted it wasn’t a wolf. And whatever it was had him worried.”
This made the dracken turn to look at me. “Rightly so, it would seem, as he is dead. And that is the other troubling aspect of last night.” At this, she turned back to Cade. “What did you find on the body?”
Cade was already reaching for his coat. “I took samples but had to ditch them during the pursuit. There was someone running away, of course. It was dark and I didn’t get a good look at them, and then Nora started convulsing so I got distracted.”
“Convulsing?” I asked.
“Yes, it was very unpleasant. Please don’t do it again.”
I blinked at him. Was he teasing me? It seemed an inappropriate thing to joke about, all things considered.
Eucilla’s mouth twitched into a frown. “Very well. Meet Gretchen at the manor after you’ve gathered the samples. I sent her and Samuel ahead to begin interrogations and lock the site down. Sam can help with the testing.”
“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled,” Cade said, gingerly slipping into his coat.
The ghost of a smile crossed his face as he moved toward the portal. He was stiff, his steps careful, and he really ought to have been lying down to rest, but even without magic I could sense it would be pointless to argue.
I met him at the portal before he could leave and lowered my voice. “You’re sure you’ll be all right? That isn’t a wound to ignore.”
He lowered his voice too, but the smile became something easier. “The danger is passed. It’s going to hurt a good deal, but I’ll survive. In another life, Miss Grayson, you might have made an excellent healer.”
Then he dipped his chin to me in a courteous sort of bow and stepped through the portal, leaving me alone with the dracken.
Chapter Twenty-Two
No sooner had Cade left than the dracken was turning from the table to look at me. Her too steady gaze made me want to crawl under the cot and disappear, all the whispered legends about their kind rattling through me. But even if she could read my mind or could turn me to stone with a snap of her fingers, I refused to bend to cowardice. I straightened my spine and gazed back at her.
We stood that way for a long moment, measuring one another in silence. Beyond the fact that she was dracken, this was a woman who wore command like she wore that tailored suit and cape: with ease. I could almost sense the synapses in her brain firing, lightning quick, focused, coming to decisions as confidently as the merfolk swam the sea. I imagined she saw me as little more than a nuisance, a civilian caught in the line of fire that she must now protect, and I tried to square my shoulders and give off a more confident air.
I was, after all, a civilian caught in the line of fire.
And her position in the CEB did make me her responsibility.
But Maker help me if I was going to be some damsel in distress. I would be of use here if it was the last thing I did.
Then Eucilla spoke, “You are a puzzle, Miss Grayson.”
