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“He is.” Cade said, all seriousness now.
“We have to stop him.”
“We will.”
It was a promise, an oath that shoved against the tide of cold terror in the room, and I was able to turn away from the display cases. Cade was watching me. The fear from those butterflies continued to wash through me, and I realized I was completely open, my empathic abilities absorbing everything.
My father’s voice came to me, chiding and kind, “You must narrow your focus, Nora. Empaths can exhaust themselves walking through the market if they don’t focus.”
Sometimes that exhaustion came even when I was focused. Emotions bled through conversations, the tone of voice, the way people stood and moved their hands, it was all echoed there, easy to read for those who cared to look. There were times I felt like a ship caught in a storm, the great swell of the sea threatening to drag me down into its crushing depths. But father’s voice had always been an anchor, recalling me to myself, to concentrate on the feel of my shoes where they might be pinching my feet, or the touch of glass under my fingers; anything that was physical and raw.
The new scar on my palm was raised and smooth, and I focused on that until the terror of the display case rolled away from me. I took a deep breath, too relieved to have my power back to be upset by the extra concentration I was having to give.
I was me again, no longer a stranger in my own skin.
Derrick burst through the doorway, shattering the moment. His eyes were wide and frantic as he searched the room. “Have you seen my mother?”
His panic frayed my nerves and threatened to undo my carefully placed concentration. I touched my scar again and shook my head, glancing at Constable Cade. “We’ve been here. There’s been no movement outside that door.”
“Last I saw, she was with Cordova in the sun room,” Cade said, his voice carefully measured. No doubt he could sense Derrick’s panic as well. “Who else is missing?”
In answer, Derrick growled, “Levi Cordova is dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
We half chased Derrick down to the second floor, where he diverted to begin charging through door after door, checking each room in a frantic search. He hadn’t bothered elaborating on Levi’s death, and by the concern on Cade’s face I could well imagine Derrick was near to shifting again. No doubt the Lieutenant would be less than pleased if he rampaged through the manor during an active investigation and I tried to remain calm for him, to will steadiness of mind into the panicked Constable like I would an upset husband in my study. But I did not have my own wards in place here, which limited the effectiveness of my magic.
Relief and gratitude swelled at the realization that I did, in fact, still have my magic and I blessed Constable Cade’s talents as a healer.
Most rooms were empty – Delilah’s, a master suite I thought might have been Maureen’s, a small washroom – but others were still occupied. One such room held the Nortons. Harold and Lavenya both startled as we burst through their door, Lavenya recoiled in her seat by the window, her embroidery work falling to her lap.
I hadn’t seen either since the bonfire, and even that had been in passing. They managed to look stately despite being held by the CEB for questioning and I became acutely aware of my torn dress. Lavenya seemed to as well, her gaze flickering over my disheveled stated and some part of me wanted to give her a crude gesture and tell her where she could stuff all her snobbery, but Janice was missing.
The mantra repeated in my head; Janice was a warlock, and she was missing from a house where there were known warlock traffickers.
How long had she been gone?
Was she still alive?
How long before they killed her?
Harold recovered fastest, standing from his place at a small desk near the western wall. “What in blazes is going on?”
“Is Lord Malcolm truly dead?” Lavenya asked. She sounded small and unsure, her attention still riveted on the shreds of my dress.
I glanced at Cade, wondering how much had been kept from these two. I thought every wolf on the premises had been chasing us last night, but then, would the pack have seen this as weakness in Maureen’s regime? Had she kept the chase bound to only those in her employ?
Or had it been Delilah’s men chasing us all along?
Lavenya covered her mouth and gasped. “Oh, it is true, isn’t it? But how?”
“We have been trapped in here for hours,” Harold said, squaring his shoulders as Derrick opened the door to their private washroom. “I demand to know what is going on. What have you done with my son?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Norton, we apologize for the inconvenience,” Cade said, all smooth manners and courtesy. “We cannot divulge any information at this time, but we ask you to remain here for your own safety.”
“Our safety?” Lavenya asked. This time, she rose to her feet, facing Derrick as he emerged from the washroom. “Where is Brock? Please tell me he’s all right.”
Derrick paused, something flickering in his expression as he met Lavenya’s gaze. He shook his head and looked about to move away but stopped to turn back to her. “I don’t know where Brock is.”
