Page 24 of Ashes and Lilies
“Why?” Julian narrowed his eyes in Mr. Weaver’s direction.
Miles had found a new plastic bottle and held it at the ready as he clutched a pillow to his chest with his other arm. But it was the look on his face that caused me to pause.
He appeared to be sweating, and his eyes darted around the room nervously. If I hadn’t known better, it would have seemed like he was afraid.
But that couldn’t be. He worked among supernatural things; how could he be scared of a ghost? That would be insane.
“It’s none of your business,” Mr. Weaver responded, even though there was no way Julian could hear him.
At the same moment, Miles spoke, “Dr. Stephens is away on an urgent family matter.”
“Thisis an urgent family matter—I’m dead! Has he even been contacted?” Mr. Weaver grumbled in response. “I have news to relay to him. Tell them that.”
“No,” I responded. “You keep asking me to do things for you, but you’re mean. Why should I help? You’ve never even said please.”
Julian frowned, but Miles perked at my words.
“He’s been mean?” the witch asked. “This is perfect. Julian, call Damen. He’d totally exorcise him.”
I frowned. “I don’t want Damen to exorcise anyone.”
Miles slumped back into his seat. “Damn it.”
“Just tell them what I said, please,” Mr. Weaver snapped.
I shouldn’t have helped, but he’d used the magic word. Plus, there was something in his expression that stirred my emotions.
Earlier, he had been calm and composed—and annoyed, true, but that wasn’t abnormal for a grumpy old man. But now, he was anything but composed. He was terrified.
Even finding out about his death hadn’t caused this reaction.
My stubbornness softened as his distress reached me. “What’s wrong, Mr. Weaver? Did you find out who poisoned you?”
“No.” Mr. Weaver calmed. “But my idiot brother had something to do with it.”
Dr. Stephens did? He didn’t seem the sort to murder his own family. Then again, he had thought nothing about sending me—an innocent, young girl—into the woods alone. He either lacked common sense, or he wasn’t entirely benevolent.
So, it was possible.
But what would cause beloved siblings to fight to the death? That seemed rather drastic.
“What’s going on?” Julian grasped my hand, drawing my attention back to him. Both he and Miles looked curious yet expectant.
“Mr. Weaver thinks that Dr. Stephens killed him,” I informed them. “It might be over an inheritance or maybe a woman they were in love with—that’s the usual reason for these sorts of actions.”
There, perfect delivery.
This was easy—and fun. Being Damen’s assistant wasn’t sobad. Just by being near him, I had absorbed his forensic psychology mumbo-jumbo.
Perhaps I’d pick up a second major.
Julian and Miles watched me with dubious expressions.
“Now I know why I find you so annoying,” Mr. Weaver groaned. “You’re exactly like him. Now control that overactive imagination and tell them what I actually told you.”
“He said something else, didn’t he?” Julian’s smooth voice interrupted my offended retort. “What was it?”
“Fine.” I rolled my eyes. If none of them wanted my expertise, then it was their loss. “Mr. Weaver needs to find Dr. Stephens to give him important news. And says that he had something to do with the poisoning.”
