“Anything is possible.” He rubs his eyes. “And then there’s this.” He holds a button up between his thumb and forefinger.
“What is that?”
“It’s a button. A custom-made button with the initials VS on the back.”
“Who’s VS?”
“Valentine Sullivan. He’s a satyr who makes custom buttons. These things are hundreds of dollars a pop. Whoever was using Yissevel was extremely rich.”
I set my tea on the ground beside my feet and round the fire to sit next to him. “Your father has always outwardly hated pixies. What if he abducted those women?”
Seven stares into the fire. “Maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe they were there willingly.”
“What?”
“The woman who comforted me didn’t seem unhappy, Sophia. She didn’t ask me to send help once I was freed.”
“Oh my gods.”
“He’s the luckiest creature in Devashire, and every one of them was in that club, looking for… something.”
“But… but… if they were his mistresses, why would he use Yissevel to have one of them killed?”
“I don’t know that he did. I’ve been thinking about this, and Yissevel said it was someone who smelled like me. Not necessarily my father. Maybe it was another leprechaun. A jealous rival who wants to embarrass my father by creating enough havoc that his pixie fetish is made public.”
I wince. Pixie fetish.Fuck. It makes sense. Chance was always extreme in his outward hatred toward me and other pixies. It’s like those human homophobes who finally come out as gay. If pixies were his secret passion, it explains why he worked so hard to insulate himself from suspicion.
“It’s possible a rival is trying to frame him or perhaps blackmail him.” I place my hand on Seven’s leg supportively.
He exhales a shaky breath. “If my father was involved, we have to have proof before we go to Godmother. He’s too powerful. If he finds out we’re on to him, he’ll have all his t’s crossed and i’s dotted before Godmother can even question him or I can call in enough officers to contain him.”
“We have to go there,” I say. “If you can get us into that cabin, there might still be women there. We can question them, find out what they know. We have two dead humans and one dead pixie. It’s possible that your father has no connection at all to Phoebe, but there’s only one way to find out for sure.”
He nods his head. “Tomorrow is Wednesday. Dad will be meeting with the accountants at the casino to review their weekly breakdown of revenue and expenses. We can go while he’s distracted.”
* * *
We wake earlyand arrive at the wall before midday. One of the elves spots us from the watchtower, and minutes later the mirror liquefies to allow us to pass. Either I’ve become resistant to the pull of the swirling stars or it’s easier to pass into Devashire from Shadowvale than the other way around. Whatever it is, this time I’m not tempted to dive to my doom.
I lean back against the leather seat of Seven’s Mercedes as we zoom through the streets of Elderflame and up into the mountains where only the wealthiest of his kind maintain homes. Ancient forest surrounds us. We gain elevation, and the road becomes narrower until eventually blacktop gives way to stone and Seven has to slow his vehicle to keep from kicking up rubble.
I’ve never been to this area. To say it is remote would be an understatement. We are over two hours from Dragonfly, and that’s with Seven driving at top speed. There is no one out here. I haven’t seen a home or driveway in twenty minutes.
No one to hear you scream.
This entire mess is creeping me out. I’d suspected Seven’s family was dysfunctional after what I’d learned the past few days, but “dungeon under the hunting cabin” is a step beyond what I ever imagined, even on those nights sleeping under that bridge when Chance became every devil in my nightmares. I comfort myself with the thought that we might be minutes away from the clue that connects us to the killer and solves this murder. If we take Chance down in the process, more reason to celebrate.
Seven pulls into a winding drive and stops before a log cabin that is far bigger than my parents’ home. It’s grander than any home I’ve ever lived in. Luxury cabin would be a better descriptor than hunting cabin. It’s perfectly landscaped with eastern bluestar, butterfly weed, and cardinal flower, edged in partridgeberry. A walkway of bluestone leads to the door.
“Leave your bow,” Seven says.
“What? Why?”
“In case we run into the housekeeper. It’ll be hard to explain. I promise I’ll protect you from anything we find down there.”
Housekeeper or houseguest, if we do find someone in Chance’s dungeon who wants to be there, I can see how sticking an arrow in her face would be a poor way to say hello. I leave my bow and quiver with my pack.
Once the car is parked, I open the door and start for the cabin but Seven stops me with a wave of his hand. “Careful.”
