"Evidence," Tristan said, straightening slowly. "Your door's been tampered with multiple times. Different people, different spells, all designed to look like shadow work."
"Or she's just good at covering her tracks."
"She's not covering anything because she didn't do it." Tristan took a photograph of the secondary signature. "Someone wants you to think she did. Someone who benefits from turning this town against her."
"And who would that be?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Tristan pocketed his tools. "But I will figure it out. And when I do, you and everyone else who jumped to conclusions are going to owe her an apology."
Wells's face showed his distaste at the idea. "You're too close to this. Too close to her."
"I'm exactly as close as I need to be to see what's actually happening instead of what fear wants me to see." Tristan stepped past him, done with the conversation.
The rest of the afternoon yielded more samples but no clear answers. Nothing cohesive. Nothing that connected to a specific person or group.
By the time twilight started creeping in, Tristan had a bag full of evidence and no clear picture of who was behind it.
Whoever was doing this wanted her punished. Not just gone, but punished. Exiled or bound or worse, made an example of in front of the entire town.
But why? What had she done to inspire that level of targeted hatred?
Tristan headed back toward the Book Nook, mind working through possibilities. Personal grudge seemed unlikely, she'd kept to herself for two years. Magical rivalry didn't fit because shadow witches were rare enough that competition wasn't reallya factor. Fear was the easy answer, but fear alone didn't explain the level of planning and coordination this required.
Someone had a reason. A specific, deliberate reason for wanting Maren destroyed.
And he had two days left to figure out what it was.
The Book Nook appeared through the falling snow, windows glowing warm. Lucien stood outside, breath fogging in the cold, his posture relaxed but alert.
"Quiet day?" Tristan asked.
"Very. Moira and Maren have been buried in books all afternoon. Fascinating stuff if you're into obscure magical history." Lucien's green eyes tracked the street behind Tristan. "Find anything useful?"
"Evidence of sabotage. Secondary magical signatures under the obvious shadow work." Tristan rubbed his eyes, exhaustion pulling at him. "But nothing that points to who or why."
"The why matters more than the who sometimes."
"Yeah. That's what's bothering me." Tristan pushed open the door, warmth washing over him. "Someone's got a reason. I just can't figure out what it is."
Inside, Maren looked up from a massive tome. Moira sat across from her, both women surrounded by stacks of books and scattered papers.
"Did you find something?" Maren asked immediately.
"Sabotage." Tristan moved closer, setting his evidence bag on the counter. "But no clear motive, no specific culprits. Whoever's doing this is smart enough to stay hidden."
"We might have found something too," Maren said, glancing at Moira. "Something that explains the how."
"Show me."
18
MAREN
Maren gestured to the open tome on the table, its pages covered in faded illustrations and dense script.
"The Nightwell Locket," she said, watching Tristan's expression shift from exhaustion to sharp focus. "Created by my ancestor Evangeline Pitch in 1623. It's a blood-bound artifact designed to store shadow essence and create a doppelgänger."
Tristan moved closer, studying the illustration of the crescent-shaped locket. "A what?"
