Page 74 of Wolfsbane Hall
James shrugged, but eventually said, “What did you think the Specter was?”
“A magician, or magic itself…” she trailed off, unsure what to say.
“Not immortal?”
Shock had stolen her speech, even after everything she had witnessed that night. This was too much.
“Yes.” He cupped her head. “We’re immortal. But you already knew that.”
“How did you become immortal? What even are you?”
“Ah, now, those are the right questions.”
He grinned and stepped away from her, turning on his heel. “You’ll probably want to ask the house for another dress.” Over his shoulder, he said, “You need to get back to the game, because it looks like the poison is digging its claws in deeper.”
Then James stepped out of the room as if all of this—the kiss, the orgasms, everything—was just one of his experiments. Like he was the Specter, and tonight was his show. Or he was the Phantom. But most of all, she was hurt because it was incredibly insensitive.
He was so confusing. He could be warm, possessive, and her rock, and then a moment later, he turned into a glacier—so cold she couldn’t ever build a home on it.
After Celestine asked the house for a new dress—this time with undergarments—she made her way back to the Grand Ballroom. She needed to find Frances and Babette and shareinformation. They were in this together, and they would find the solution together—even if Babette didn’t want to.
Unfortunately, Babette was nowhere to be found, but luckily, Frances had found Celestine as soon as she’d entered the room.
Enchantment was on full display in the ballroom again. A nightingale’s song drifted through the room, and starlight filled the space with a warm glow, creating an illusion of the night sky playing out on the ceiling. Ghostly dancers swayed to a country dance, and fake translucent patrons gambled all over, mainly at Irene’s behest.
Everett was drunkenly “playing” the piano, hitting the wrong notes every so often, but Celestine narrowed her eyes, wondering if he was doing it on purpose. He was probably forced to play by his overbearing aunt.
On her way to the room, Celestine had grabbed a pen and paper to write down all the clues and everything she had learned from the night. She sat at a table on the edge of the room and began to write, Frances sitting next to her silently, allowing Celestine to do her investigative thing.
Lorraine was holding Archibald’s tie. Gum was on the crossbow. The Ashbrook twins and James had access to the crossbow before the murder…
But so could have anyone, because Celestine had left the ballroom to kiss Everett in the closet.
The twins changed their shirts, and Dean’s was covered in blood. Everyone had motives. They were all Archibald’s children. The Ashbrooks are immortal. Lorraine and Irene killed Margot. Everett married her. Vivian loved her. But what about Dean?
Celestine never really knew anything about Dean. Except…
Dean was the Marquess of Winterly, and all his fiancées either died or ran away.
But what did any of this have to do with tonight’s show?Was Margot the motive? But for which man? Or was it likeMurder on the Orient Express, and there were multiple murderers? But most importantly, how did it all lead to the Specter? Because the show was supposed to reveal his identity. So, was the night’s murderer also the Specter?
Celestine sighed.
Her eyes locked on Vivian, who was sitting at the bar drinking a martini. When Vivian noticed her stare, she raised her martini, a wicked smile on her face.
“You have your calculating face on.” Frances finally spoke.
Celestine’s attention shifted back to Mother Hen. “Yes.”
“Eat.” Frances placed a grilled cheese sandwich in front of Celestine. “I know you, girl. You haven’t eaten a thing all night.”
Celestine tapped her fingers on the plate in a frustrated fashion, but she secretly appreciated Frances’s mothering.
“I know you’re not okay, my Celeste.”
Blood jammed in Celestine’s veins. “No, I’m not.”
Frances snatched at her fingers. “Your hands are tinted blue. The poison is affecting you worse than the rest of us.”
