Tragic Ink Read online

  “Ma,” I choked out, my hands hovering over her uncertainly.

  All I wanted to do was help her. But I had no idea how.

  At the sound of my voice, her lids fluttered and then her blue eyes opened, squinting as if in pain. They widened when she saw me. “Gwenllian.”

  “What happened?” My voice cracked as I struggled to hold back a sob. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing. It is too late to help me.” She pressed her lips together, and her face contorted sharply.

  A sob escaped. “Ma, please. You can’t—”

  I broke off, unable to say the word.

  Die. She couldn’t die. Not yet. Not like this.

  “Listen to me now,” she said quietly. “Hush and listen. I have kept this from you solely for your own safety. I thought I would have more time, but . . .”

  “More time for what?” I asked through tears that blurred her face until I could barely make her out.

  She drew a slow, pained breath. I squeezed her hand, willing her to go on. Part of me wanted to tell her to save her breath. To hang on while I ran for help. But something held me there. Something that knew these were our last moments, and I wasn’t willing to waste them on pointless efforts. I blinked until I could see her weathered cheeks and light eyes once more.

  “Gwen, you are special. Important. I’ve done all I can, but they have never stopped hunting you. You must not let them find you. Leave this house. Don’t come back. Find Rhys. He will know what to do.”

  “What are you talking about, Aelwyn? Who is hunting me? Who did this to you?” Her words jumbled against each other in my mind—all of them taking a backseat to the puddle of blood I was now sitting in, while still more leaked from the fresh wounds on her chest. The horror of watching her bleed out this way overrode any sense I might have made of whatever secrets she was trying to spill.

  She clutched my hand much too weakly, her eyes pleading with mine. “You are a bright star, Gwenllian. Much too bright to conceal. But you can’t hide anymore. They have come for you. And you must not run from that. You must not run from who you are.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I sobbed. “Who am I hiding from?”

  Aelwyn didn’t answer, and for a terrifying moment, I thought she was already gone. My head bowed, and I leaned in to lay my head on her shoulder, my cries filling the silence.

  “You will,” she whispered, so low I might have missed it if I hadn’t been lying so close to her lips. “Rhys will protect you. He always has.”

  “Rhys?” I sat up, confused and heartsick at the thought of asking him for anything.

  “Promise me,” she said, because Aelwyn knew. She’d always known. Somehow. “Please.”

  “I promise,” I said, my voice breaking. My heart ached, because it was a promise I would keep no matter how much I didn’t want to. The first stirrings of rage began in my gut. Even now, I could see the life fading in her, and I knew that when she was gone, I would have nothing else stopping me from my revenge. “Now tell me who did this.”

  “I love you, nighean.”

  Daughter.

  It was what she called me when she was trying to comfort or reassure me, usually when my magic had gone awry or my heart had felt broken. And it was absolutely broken now. “I love you too, Ma. Don’t go.”

  She didn’t answer.

  My shoulders shook as I lay with my cheek against her shoulder and my hand still squeezing hers. A coldness had seeped into her skin, and now, it felt odd, like I was holding onto a stranger. Thinking that only made me cry harder.

  Outside, Ethan gave a sharp call, and I jerked my head up, blinking away the tears that blurred the kitchen cabinets as I looked toward the open door. For a split second, it all slid into place. The reality hit me that Aelwyn was gone and someone had taken her from me. And that someone might still be close by. For a moment, that was enough to dull the grief and sharpen my thoughts.

  I looked down at Aelwyn. Her blue eyes were closed, and her chest no longer moved with the rise and fall of labored breaths. I swallowed back a scream as I searched for a pulse. I found none.

  And just like that, my helplessness vanished. Instead, I had purpose. Not once in my life had I chosen violence to solve something. In fact, the only time violence had occurred at my hands, I’d spent the next few years punishing myself for it. But now, tonight, violence called to me. The idea of avenging Aelwyn made my blood sing.

  No longer frozen in shock, I rose slowly to my feet. When I heard Ethan call again, I sucked in a breath and twisted toward the door. It was a battle cry. The call he used to let me know when he’d found his prey. Sometimes, when I loosed him in the woods behind the house, we’d hunt together. Him with his talons and sharp eyes as he soared overhead. Me with the bow and quiver I kept in my old room upstairs. Tonight, though, I had a feeling he wasn’t signaling dinner.

  I wiped my bloody palms on my dark jeans and ran to the knife block, yanking free the largest of the blades. I clutched it tight in my stained hand before racing out into the darkness in the direction of Ethan’s call. If Aelwyn’s murderer was still out there, I was going to find them. And when I did, I was going to kill them.

  Chapter 2

  The backyard was small, bordered on all sides by woods. The trees were broken up by narrow walking paths I used to skip down as a kid. Tonight, the paths were lit by the moon’s glow reflecting off the snow covering the ground. I used the light and Ethan’s sharp cries to direct me as I ran.

  Trees flew by as I sprinted, and branches scraped along my face and tangled in my hair. I would have kept going, too, lungs screaming, legs aching, but in the end, my chase only led me in a large loop. Eventually, I spilled out of the trees back where I’d started—and ran right into a broad chest.

  “Ommph.” I tried jumping backward, terrified I’d just thrown myself into the arms of a killer, but hands came up to squeeze my arms and held me still.

  “Whoa, there. It’s just me.” The voice was masculine and rich, and I hated the sound the instant it invaded my head. As if I hadn’t tortured myself enough with the memory of him on the drive over. Or every waking moment, if I was being honest. Now he was here, his presence mingling with my panic. And I hated how badly I wanted to let him save me.

  “Let me go,” I demanded, silently calling for Ethan to come and swoop down on my assaulter. The traitor remained airborne and silent.

  “Gwen? Are you all right?” The voice came again, and I dragged my gaze upward, past a thick winter coat and shirt that I knew hid solid abs and broad shoulders, still struggling against the iron grip he had on me. But when I caught sight of that familiar set of dark eyes, I shivered at the rush of longing that always threatened to overwhelm me when I saw him.

  “Aelwyn . . .” My bottom lip trembled, and before I could stop it, a sob escaped my throat. Desperate and panicked and at a loss for what to do next, I came apart, with tears and more sobs following quickly behind the first.

  “I know.” Strong arms came around me, pulling me close, and I clung to him, ashamed of my vulnerable display, but too embarrassed to pull away and let him see my tear-stained face. Not to mention the snot I knew was close behind if I didn’t get my shit together pronto.

  But every time I tried to take a deep breath, more tears leaked out and my shoulders only shook harder. Quiet murmurs comforted me, and a gloved hand ran over my neck and back, sending tingles down my spine. His flannel smelled like spilled whiskey and cigarette smoke—and him. There was nothing else in the world that smelled like him. Still, it wasn’t worth this. Because I knew there would be no coming back from the mortification of crying in his arms.

  After what had happened inside with Aelwyn and now this, tonight couldn’t have been more of a nightmare. Even so, my heart thudded wildly in my chest at the feel of his arms around me. The truth was Rhys Graywalk hadn’t been in nearly as many of my nightmares as he had my dreams. For that, I hated him.

  With that thought in mind, grief a
nd embarrassment turned quickly to rage. But I forced even that aside and somehow managed to conjure something resembling stony indifference. I sniffled one last time, used my jacket sleeve to swipe at my eyes and nose, and then stepped back, eyes downcast.

  Overhead, Ethan circled, and I could feel his urge to return to me, but I willed him away with a command that probably came out rude rather than urgent. I wasn’t in the mood to return him to my arm. Not with Rhys watching. He didn’t get to know my secrets. Not anymore.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice choked with the effort of trying to sound casual after all the snot I’d just left on his shirt.

  “I came for dinner and then I saw—” He stopped, and I was glad he didn’t finish that sentence. “Gwen,” he said again, this time much softer. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. It’s Ma. She—”

  “I know.” He wouldn’t let me finish, and for that I was legitimately grateful. No part of me wanted to describe what I’d seen in the kitchen.

  “She was . . . still alive when I got here,” I said, my voice small. I steeled myself and looked up, meeting his eyes. I ignored the concern he gave off. My hands balled into fists, partly from the cold that was finally starting to settle in and partly to keep away the butterflies that batted my rib cage. I hated to look at him. No, that was a lie. I hated to look when he was watching.

  “Did she say who did it?” he asked, his words hopeful enough that I felt bad when I shook my head.

  “No. She said some other stuff, though.” I frowned. “About you. And about me . . . being special—whatever that means. It didn’t make a lot of sense.”

  He nodded, not at all surprised, like I expected he would be. “We can talk about all of that. Come on. The sheriff’s on his way. And it’s cold as shit out here.”

  I didn’t question Rhys. Not about warming up inside—although I wasn’t sure I wanted to wait in the kitchen. And not about offering to help me decipher Aelwyn’s last words. Whatever he’d been or done to me, Rhys had always looked out for us ever since we were kids. Three years older than me, he’d come to Aelwyn when he was ten. She’d taken him in without question, just as she’d done for me years earlier. And from the day he arrived, Rhys had been everything to both of us. A friend and playmate for me. A handyman for Aelwyn. He’d moved out at eighteen, but even after things had fallen apart between us, he’d still taken care of her. I was grateful for that. But he didn’t need to know it.

  My heart thundered in my chest as I let Rhys lead the way into the house. When he stopped to hold the back door for me, my arm brushed his shirt as I passed, and my insides curled in traitorous enjoyment. Even now, in the middle of this nightmare, my body reacted to him on a chemical level I’d never been able to escape.

  The lights were on now. Not just the kitchen, but the hall and a few lamps in the living and dining rooms as well. The pot on the stove had been moved and the burner turned off. Rhys, I assumed. I didn’t bother to ask. Instead, I returned hesitantly to where Aelwyn lay on the floor. The pooled blood was larger than before, but her wounds no longer leaked with it. Her eyes were closed, and she might have looked peaceful even, if not for the blood and the wounds. I dropped to the floor beside her, my eyes filling with tears.

  Rhys didn’t speak, nor did he try to force me away, and I sat there, unmoving, until I heard the crunch of tires over the yard as a car pulled up. Doors opened, then closed. I did my best to quiet my own crying and sniffled hard as someone rapped on the front door. Footsteps behind me shuffled out and down the hall. I stayed where I was, listening as Rhys spoke quietly to the sheriff.

  “You found her like that?” the sheriff asked when Rhys explained what they were about to walk in on.

  “Yes. She was already dead when I got here,” he said, and I flinched at the word. Dead. Yes, she’d already been dead. Because someone had killed her. And I’d let them get away.

  “Did you call her other foster child? Gwen?” the sheriff asked.

  “She’s here,” Rhys told him, and there was a beat of silence.

  “Show me.”

  I waited while heavy boots made their way toward me. With a last swipe at my eyes, I looked up as they entered. Rhys came in first and crossed to stand beside me. The sheriff, a broad-shouldered werewolf with a permanent scowl, frowned when he caught sight of me kneeling over Aelwyn’s body.

  “Miss Facharro,” the sheriff said, his expression grumpy.

  “Sheriff,” I said quietly.

  But his eyes were on Rhys, and he looked pissed. “You let her touch the body?”

  “She got here first. Damage was already done.”

  The sheriff huffed. A beat of silence passed. He stood stiffly with one hand propped on his weapon, and I watched that hand very carefully as he stared back at me. Distrust rolled off him. Nothing new there. No law enforcement official in this town trusted me. Not after—

  “I’m going to need you to step away from the bod—from your mother.” Sheriff Kasun moved aside, and I finally saw the second officer. Conall, Kasun’s son, although younger and slightly shorter, was a carbon copy of his father, permanent scowl included. “This is Deputy Conall. You can give him your statement while I conduct an investigation of the scene.”

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I turned back to my mother and leaned close, pressing a kiss to her cheek before climbing slowly to my feet. Rhys held out his hand, but I ignored him. I couldn’t risk touching him in front of watchful eyes. Not when I knew my body would react so obviously.

  When I was upright, I fastened the deputy with a look that I hoped made him wonder if I really was capable of whatever rumors he’d heard. I didn’t know what those rumors might have been, and I didn’t care. But if he was nervous about me, maybe that would motivate him to resolve this quickly. Behind me, Rhys shifted his weight, and I got the sense he was amused more than impatient. Still, I held the deputy’s uncertain stare. The sheriff cleared his throat, and the deputy blinked, ending our standoff.

  “Right. We can just go into the living room,” he muttered, turning on his heel and leading the way.

  I followed and was secretly glad when Rhys stayed behind.

  In the living room, the deputy took one of the armchairs. I suspected it was a trick to get me to sit, too, but I remained on my feet. Too wired. Too on edge. My thoughts flicked to Ethan somewhere outside, and I frowned. My jacket covered the empty place on my arm, but I was antsy to get him put away again.

  “Miss Facharro,” he began, whipping a pad and pen out of his belt loop. “Why don’t you tell me what happened. Start at the beginning.”

  So I did.

  In a low voice that only shook when I came to the part about discovering my mother bleeding on the floor, I told him everything that had happened. When I’d finished, he was frowning. “You heard a noise, and instead of calling the police, you went racing after it into the dark woods?”

  “Of course,” I said. “If I’d waited for you guys, he would have definitely gotten away.”

  “He?” His brow rose. “So it was a male?”

  “I . . . Well, I can’t be sure, as I didn’t see anyone, but I get a sense that . . . it was.” Actually, it was Ethan who’d gotten that sense, but I couldn’t exactly share the findings from my magical hawk or the fact that I had a familiar thanks to a magical tattoo that the Court of the Sun and the Moon currently knew nothing about.

  “A sense,” the deputy repeated in a tone that made me want to tattoo a thousand mosquitos on my skin and aim them all at him.

  “That’s right,” I said through clenched teeth.

  I braced myself, waiting for him to mock me outright. Instead, he said, “And can you think of anyone that might have wanted to hurt your foster mother?”

  “My mother,” I said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “She might have been a foster mother on paper, but she was a mom to me. The best mom anyone could ask for.”

  “Right. Of course. Your mother,”
he corrected. “Who might have wanted to hurt her?”

  “No one,” I said honestly. “She didn’t have any enemies.”

  I waited while he wrote something down. When he was finished, he closed his pad and stood, sliding both pad and pen back into his belt loop.

  “Thank you for your time,” he said, and then walked out.

  I stayed where I was, listening while he returned to the kitchen and assisted the sheriff in collecting evidence. Both of them moved slow as hell, and it was another hour before the coroner and an official evidence team even showed up.

  By then, any expectations I’d had about the police actually giving a shit or doing anything productive here tonight to catch a killer had disappeared.

  I stood alone in the dining room until a noise behind me made me turn. Rhys leaned against the doorframe, watching me.

  “What?” I asked, but it lacked venom. I was exhausted, and the grief was starting to cloud out the shock that had been fueling me until now. I considered taking a shot from the espresso tattooed on my left forearm, but I didn’t want to risk being seen. All I wanted was solitude—so I could fall apart.

  “They’ll find who did this,” he said.

  I turned back to the window, watching as a two-man crew loaded my mother’s body into the back of a transport vehicle bound for the medical examiner’s office in town.

  “How?” I asked finally.

  Rhys took a step forward.

  I turned to glare at him, my face already hot with the words on my tongue. “How in the hell will they find her killer? They have no leads, and they didn’t even send someone out to check the perimeter of the property?”

  “Sheriff Kasun promised me he already has a team on it,” he said.

  “Whatever,” I muttered. So far, Ethan hadn’t been impressed by the wolves he’d seen investigating the property line.