Page 107 of Ashes and Lilies
“Thank you.” Damen’s reply was stiff, but his anger dropped as the nurse wandered away.
Damen knocked on the door, and when there was no reply, he cracked it open. “Hello?” he called out, and after a moment, he pushed inside.
Mrs. Cole’s room was small. The wiry bedframe was adorned with multiple blankets, and lace doilies were lain out over a tall dresser, which was topped with framed pictures. The only other furniture was a wooden rocking chair in front of a curtained window.
Mrs. Cole sat there, and when the door opened, she stopped rocking.
She and Ms. Protean resembled one another. They even wore their hair in the same style and shared comparable fashion choices. But unlike Ms. Protean, Mrs. Cole was far from alert.
Her eyes were glazed over, and she didn’t even seem aware of our presence.
Damen didn’t seem perturbed. He was halfway across the space before I’d even entered. Yet, I followed, closing the door behind me. I wasn’t even sure if Mrs. Cole knew what was happening. But before I questioned it, Damen was already kneeling on the ground in front of the older woman.
“Mrs. Cole,” he said softly, “My name is Damen Abernathy. Do you know who I am?” His voice seemed to snap her out of her daze, and her expression cleared.
I moved behind Damen, and when she raised her gaze to meet his, I could clearly see the blank look in her eyes.
She was silent, but after a breath, she rewarded our patience. “I know who you are. I’ve been expecting you.” Her voice was barely a whisper—frail and thready. She folded her hands over the afghan covering her lap. “What is it you need from me?”
“I don’t know if you’re aware,” Damen said slowly, “but AineHamway is now the owner of your husband’s previous residence. May we ask you a few questions?”
She blinked, and her attention drifted to me. “Who is she?”
“Her name is Bianca,” he answered. “She’s a fae.”
“A fae?” Her shoulders slumped. “Those two are still there then?”
My skin felt clammy.
“No,” I heard myself saying, although my body felt numb. “They’ve moved on, but we don’t know much about who they are or why they were murdered.”
“Rosalie Marshal was one of his many victims,” Mrs. Cole replied. “She was the daughter of a merchant—they claimed she ran away. But you’ll not find any information about James Cole. He’s made sure of that.”
“Who is he?” Damen asked.
“Edward’s son from his first marriage,” Mrs. Cole said, bunching the blanket in her lap. “I was told that he committed suicide.”
I touched my head. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t what I felt.
Brayden had said so too.
“Bianca?” Damen was suddenly at my side. He touched my shoulder and guided me into a seat on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?”
“He—” I began, trembling. James hadn’t been a very nice ghost, but he had also been wronged. “He didn’t kill himself.”
“No, he didn’t,” Mrs. Cole said, her gaze stronger now. “Edward greatly underestimated my observational skills. I was never his confidant, but I still knew.”
“There’s no record of him being married before.” Damen, who’d been kneeling in front of me, turned and looked over his shoulder at the elderly wolf. “Or any children besides your own.”
“Because James didn’t live up to his expectations,” Mrs. Colereplied. “He tortured James throughout his childhood and killed him once it became apparent that the boy did not have what it took. His first wife died of heartbreak shortly after that. He had all records of his marriage and his son’s existence erased.”
“How in the world is that possible?” Damen scowled.
“You do not cross the Cole family.” Mrs. Cole leaned forward. “They can make anyone disappear. It’s how they keep their power. My children, unfortunately, have chosen to follow their father's footsteps.”
“Your son, Alexander, is the police chief,” Damen said. “That is a serious accusation.”
“And my second son, Garrett, is a stockbroker.” Mrs. Cole shrugged. “What they do doesn’t matter. I love my children and my grandson—even though he might be even more foolish than his father. But none of them came into their accomplishments or wealth on their own. Their success requires a sacrifice.”
