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The dracken smirked at me. “You should never swallow a story whole, Miss Grayson. The truth is bound to choke you somewhere.”
I thought of Bess and Martin and all the stories I’d swallowed from them and felt the first sparks of rage ignite in me. They couldn’t have meant to keep me alive much longer. I wasn’t certain why they hadn’t killed me already and just kept the house.
Movement at the top of the stairs drew my attention and I spotted Sam Witters descending. He had a pair of round glasses perched on his nose and those kindly features smiled down at us. “Oh good, you’ve made it,” he said. “I’ve found some strange things on the third floor.”
“Strange how?” Derrick asked.
“Mister Montgomery’s butterfly collection is quite extensive,” Sam said, sliding his glasses up his nose again. Then, apparently realizing this was not the sort of information the group wanted, he flushed. “And he has a small room hidden inside his bookcase full of an alchemy set and spell books I haven’t seen outside of Fairy in a century.”
“Maker’s sake, you didn’t touch anything, did you?” Cade asked, but he was walking up the steps to meet the other man.
Sam looked affronted. “I do know how to do my job, Elliot.”
“You’re not known for tempering your curiosity, Constable Witters,” Eucilla said, which caused Sam to blush an alarming shade of pink. The dracken ignored his discomfort and began divvying out orders; “Constable King, go help Gretchen swap out our witnesses. I want Maureen seated before I enter the room. Cade, go see what Sam has discovered. Make sure he doesn’t blow anything up.”
“One time!” Sam protested. “I miscalculate one time!”
“I think you’re miscalculating again,” Cade said as the two started up the stairs. “Remember Bulgaria? It took forever to grow my eyebrows back in.”
“Don’t forget you nearly leveled the London Tower,” Derrick said, heading for the corridor to the left.
Sam stammered and might have made some protest, but it was swallowed in laughter. I smiled after them, their easy manner loosening some of the anxiety that seemed glued to my center.
Eucilla’s steady voice called my attention.
“Miss Grayson,” Eucilla said. “I recognize you do not have your empathic abilities currently, but as a counselor you may still be able to read things in people. Would you be willing to aid me with my interrogations?”
Startled, I blinked at her. “Maureen’s not exactly the easiest person to read.”
“Yes, I know,” Eucilla said. “But I have found that fresh perspectives often lead to uncovering the guilty party.”
“I suppose…”
“Good.” She turned on her heel, marching in the direction Derrick had gone and I had to hurry to catch up.
“I would be more useful after Constable Cade…”
“I know, but it will take him a moment to locate the appropriate unbinding spells. There’s no sense not putting you to work in the meantime.”
She had a horrible habit of cutting people off and I tried not to be insulted by it. We kept a brisk pace through the corridor, past the dining area and the spot I knew to be the lady’s sitting room. No one else was in the hall and I had the distinct feeling they were holding Maureen’s guests in their separate rooms. That much made sense as they wouldn’t want anyone colluding an alibi during the interrogations.
Eucilla stopped before the closed study door and lowered her voice; “Ready?”
“Not really,” I muttered.
She gave me a bright smile that was so contrary to the behavior I’d come to expect from her that I blinked. Then she winked, opened the door, and gestured for me to go inside. Beyond the door, Maureen Leslie stood by her bookcase, shoulders square, chin high, wrists bound by runed shackles that glinted in the sunlight from the window. Her blue eyes narrowed to slits as I entered the room, and she tracked my progress from the door to one of the little folding chairs still situated in the center.
The tea set had been cleared away and the desk cleaned of paperwork so that its polished surface glowed. Eucilla clicked the door shut behind us and strode to the desk, taking a commanding seat behind it before leaning back to survey Ms. Maureen. I sat in the little white chair facing the desk and watched as Ms. Maureen’s chin lifted all the higher, her blonde curls brushing across her shoulders.
“Mrs. Leslie…” Eucilla began but Maureen cut her off.
“Call me Ms. Maureen.”
“But your legal name is Mrs. Maureen Leslie, is it not?”
“Legality has very little to do with preference.”
“Interesting,” Eucilla said and gestured to the unoccupied chair beside me. “Please have a seat, Ms. Maureen.”
