But before Grace could answer, the shadow surged again. There was a snap of cold, a blast of static electricity, and Tessa’sphone exploded in her hand, glass and plastic raining down the stairs. The force knocked them all backward, sending Grace to the floor and Tessa sprawling on her hands and knees.
Bryant moved fast, yanking both women away from the edge. The crowd below was already looking up, drawn by the noise and the sudden shower of phone fragments.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Tessa got to her feet, shaking. “You—” She started to accuse, but her voice faltered. She looked at the broken phone, then at the railing, and finally at Grace. “You saved my life,” she said, the words ragged and unwilling.
Grace nodded, her heart pounding. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
Bryant helped her up, his hands gentle. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, and Grace was too tired to argue.
They made their way back to the main floor, Tessa trailing behind, dazed but alive.
“You did good,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
Except, she hadn’t, not really. She’d stopped Tessa from dying, but she still had no idea who tried to kill her or why.
11
Tessa smoothed her dress as if she could iron out the tremor in her hands. “I know we need to talk about this, and probably make an official report, but I need a few minutes.” But her voice cracked on the last syllable, and she made her escape with none of her usual predatory swagger.
Bryant watched her go, then turned back to Grace. “Did you see who did it?”
Grace shook her head, wishing she had. “There wasn’t anyone there. Not really. It was… a shadow. A pressure. Like someone pushed her, but from inside the air.”
Bryant’s face darkened, but he kept his voice low, almost gentle. “You think it’s the same as before? The stage?”
She nodded, grateful he didn’t bother pretending it was a coincidence. “The feeling was the same. It’s not an accident, Bryant. Someone’s doing this on purpose.”
He processed that for a moment, then exhaled hard. “Who would want to kill Tessa Monroe?” he mused, half to himself. Then, louder: “Actually, scratch that. Who wouldn’t? She’s made a career out of ruining people’s lives. She called the mayor’s wife an embezzler once, and she didn’t even have the facts straight. Just ran the story and let the town eat her alive.”
“Wow,” she said. She got the sense that Tessa wasn’t the greatest, but hearing how mindlessly cruel she was shook something inside Grace.
Bryant’s gaze drifted down to the dance floor, where Tessa had disappeared. “It doesn’t feel like normal revenge,” he said, quietly. “This is… showy. Risky. Like whoever’s doing it wants everyone to see.”
Grace replayed the vision in her mind, the static charge, the almost physical force of the push. “It wasn’t human, Bryant. Not just a person, I mean. This was… magic. Or something close to it.”
He didn’t flinch, didn’t even look surprised. “Yeah, I figured,” he said. “Whoever did this had to get the spell, or whatever it was, from somewhere. Most of the witches in the Hollow keep tabs on their wares. Even if you’re talking about some black-market stuff, which we probably are, there’s a trail.”
“Unless it’s one of the witches,” Grace said.
Bryant’s lips pressed into a thin line. “This town’s got too many of those.”
Grace let that hang in the air. It was too big to process all at once.
He squeezed her shoulder, less forceful this time. “We should find Tessa. Keep her close. If they’re really after her, she’ll be safer with us.”
Grace hesitated, but nodded. “She won’t like it. I barely know her, and I know that.”
“Let me handle her,” Bryant said. “You find your friends, make sure everyone else is accounted for. I’ll catch up once I’ve wrangled the world’s worst reporter.”
He offered a crooked smile, and she managed a weak one in return.
The main hall of the Parker Estate was even more packed than before, the music louder, the conversations louder still.Grace scanned the crowd, looking for the flash of Anna’s green dress or the glare of Caroline’s sequined jumpsuit. She spotted them near the dessert buffet, plates loaded with cake and what looked like homemade peppermint bark.
Grace navigated the crowd, past a trio of high schoolers taking selfies under the mistletoe and a clutch of tourists arguing about whether the mayor’s hair was real or a particularly festive toupee. At the buffet, Anna and Caroline were locked in debate over which flavor of truffle was best, while Olivia Brooks surveyed the spread with the precise, appraising look of someone plotting a heist.
Anna saw Grace first and waved her over. “You missed the drama. Caroline tried to seduce the pastry chef for a secret cake recipe, but he turned out to be gay.”
Caroline scowled, but it was mostly for show. “If you want a town full of secrets, try getting a baker to share his buttercream ratios. Those people are cultish.”
