Page 27 of Tragic Ink
Chapter 10
By the timewe arrived at Rhys’s apartment, I was ready to burst with questions. Between making out with Rhys and the truck’s heat, the cold had been chased away, and the fog had lifted. My thoughts were clear—and overwhelming. I had too many questions to know where to begin. And the grief of seeing Fred and Betsy like that... I tried not to blame myself, but it was hard. The biggest question, though, wasWalter.
The Dirty Knuckle was empty and dark when we pulled around back. Rhys showed me inside and up the back stairs, unlocking the door and then stepping back to let me go first. I walked cautiously. My eyesight was sharp enough to keep me from running into things, but my slow steps had nothing to do with that. This was Rhys Graywalk’s private space. And I was standing here with the scent of his body still on my skin. It was a lot—even with the whole nearly dying thing, it was alot.
My heart thudded extra hard as I stood in the center of the living room and waited while Rhys went around turning on lights. He disappeared around a corner, and I heard cabinet doors and then a fridge. A moment later, he returned with two dark bottles alreadyopened.
“Drink this,” he said. “It’ll calm your nerves while wetalk.”
I took the beer gratefully and sipped, mostly to keep from having to talk. I didn’t know what to say about the apartment. It was all dark wood and leather, like his office. But it was lived in. A sweatshirt thrown over the arm of the couch. A newspaper and stack of magazines spread over the coffee table. Dirty socks by the door. It was so personal. I didn’t want to admit how many times I’d ached for him to bring me here over the past fewyears.
So I drank until the momentpassed.
Rhys downed half his beer and then set it aside. He strode to a rolltop desk in the corner of the room, slid it open, and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. He returned to where I stood and tugged me down on the couch besidehim.
“Okay,” he said, the pen poised and ready, “tell me what else you know about this Walterguy.”
“First tell me what happened after I left the house.” Fred and Betsy’s. That’s what I would have normally said. But saying their name now... Icouldn’t.
Rhys frowned, but nodded. “It was a setup, that’s for damned sure. Deputy Conall said he got an anonymous call to come check out a disturbance, but no one else even lives close enough to be disturbed, even with the racket that beast made. So that doesn’t add up. And the blood in the kitchen—that was amessage.”
“You think whoever unleashed the hellhound was the same person that killedAelwyn?”
Rhys nodded. “I do. And I think they wanted us to know that, too. I didn’t have much time to look over the bodies before Conall chased me off, but I think whoever left that blood in the kitchen did it before the hellhound got there. And the energy signature was the same as the one at Aelwyn’s thatnight.”
“Ethan didn’t sense anyone else out there with us,” I agreed. “So they must have already left when we gotthere.”
“Ethan?” Rhysblinked.
“Myhawk.”
Rhys stared at me, brows raised. “You named himEthan?”
“Yeah.”
“Ethan Hawk?” He laughed out loud, and my lips curved at my own private joke. Aelwyn had been the only other person who knew, so I’d almost forgotten the humor ofit.
“It was Aelwyn’s idea,” Iadmitted.
He smiled warmly. “Sounds likeher.”
My smile vanished too quickly as I remembered what we were doing here in the first place. “Do you think... I mean, whoever killed her is messing with me now. Do you think they killed her to get tome?”
Rhys took a deep breath. “Honest truth? I do. And I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I managed to wipe out your footprints in the kitchen, so they failedtonight.”
“Failed?” I felt the blood drain from my face. “Fred and Betsy are dead because of me. Because of my tattoo. That’s not a fail,that’s—”
“I know. Bad word choice. I’m sorry. Gwen, how do you know Walter couldn’t have activated histattoo?”
“Because I check up on him. On all of the ones who have magic in their ink. After last time, I realized I had aresponsibility.”
“Last time wasn’t yourfault.”
“That couple would still be alive if it weren’t forme.”
“Gwen, that asshole was going to hurt his wife with or without your help. The tattoo was a heart, for goodness’ sake. There was no way you could have known he’d find a way to twist that intoviolence.”
“You’re right. He could have done something different, but he didn’t. And then hisdeath—”
