Mary watched me closely, considering. “I may know someone who might be willing to help,” she said slowly. “He may say no.”
“But you will ask?”
She pursed her lips. “If I do this for you, then you promise to speak to my sister? Get whatever this is between you two worked out one way or the other?”
It was inevitable, anyway. “I swear I’ll do it.”
She nodded. “Meet me in the graveyard tonight at 8:00 p.m. If he agrees, he’ll be there with me.”
“Thank you.” My phone vibrated again.
Mary turned, shouldering her bag of books, and continued on her journey to the church where she worked at her internship.
I pulled my phone from my pocket. The messages were from Lydia.
Where are you? I’ve been outside your house for the past twenty minutes.
I stared at the text in surprise. So she wasn’t tending the shop. She must have left before I even arrived at Cupid’s Confections.
I’m waiting…
I desired to answer, but what? I had nothing she wanted to hear, and my heart twisted painfully every time I thought about saying it.
You can’t ignore me forever, George Wickham. Check your doorstep. I left something for you.
I hoped it wasn’t another dead body. But the compulsion I’d been putting off since that morning was finally becoming too much, and at least I had an idea of where she was.
I drove to my townhouse and got out, walking up to the front porch. On it sat a small potion bottle and a card with stylish snowflakes fluttering down across a musical staff. At the bottom it read, “Sending warmth and quiet chords of comfort as you heal through the hush of winter.” I rolled my eyes and held in a smile. It was like Lydia to send me a get-well-soon card. I flipped it open and read the message scrawled in her wild, flowing handwriting.
I assume you’re going to track down the killer. Here’s a truth potion that might help. I’ve added a little Emberglass Dust that I picked up at the apothecary yesterday. It adds a compulsion to the potion so that the person you give it to will have to answer your questions. All you have to do is put a drop in their drink. Let me know if you need anything else.
-Lydia
P.S. I’m still not signing the papers until we talk.
I tucked the note safely away with the truth potion in my coat. She was too good—this would come in handy tonight when I confronted Sephira.
It didn’t take much time to find Lydia after leaving my place. She was in town hanging out with some friends at a small gift shop. She was such a social butterfly. It was partially what had attracted me to her. We both enjoyed being around people.
I watched her through the window for a bit, knowing if anyone saw me I’d look like a total stalker, but I didn’t care. The way her eyes sparkled when she engaged with others, or the slight brush of her long light-brown hair had me watching her every move, wishing there wasn’t a pane of glass and all of my issues separating us.
After a few moments, she said goodbye to her friends and moved toward the exit. I slid across the street and into the alleyway on the side of the building to avoid being detected. I hunched in the darkness and watched her from the shadows. As she left, the door of the gift shop banged shut, catching her scarf. Lydia’s hands flew to her throat, pain in her gaze. My chest clenched, and I raced forward, only a blur. I openedthe door, freeing her. In a flash, I disappeared inside, heading toward the back. I hated seeing Lydia in pain.
The door of the shop flew open.
“Did someone just open this door?” Lydia demanded.
“I didn’t see anyone but you, Lydia,” a shop worker said.
Her eyes traveled around the store, then narrowed as she sighed and disappeared out into the daylight. I worked my way to the rear of the store and went out the back alley to ensure there wouldn’t be any accidental meetings.
I needed to see her. Get her to sign the annulment papers, but I also knew I had to do it at the right time. If I came at her at the wrong moment, she’d use her determined, uncompromising ways to somehow suck me into her world and make me forget about my plans. That was Lydia. For better or worse, she could be a literal force of nature.
I followed Lydia until she arrived at the Enchanted Teapot. She sat at a table outside alone in the cold and gazed around expectantly. Twinkling fairy lights were strung across the shop’s awning, their glow tangled with frosted paper hearts that fluttered gently, though there was no breeze. I took up a spot behind a few bushes and a large tree that decorated the front walkway of a nearby shop on the other side of the street.
Lydia checked her phone and sighed. “Come on,” she whispered as she rubbed her gloved hands together while occasionally breathing into them to warm her face.
Bradley walked out of the Enchanted Teapot with two steaming mugs. Before the door shut, I heard the enchanted teapot quartet singing “I Only Want You.”
