Page 119 of The Lies We Conjure
“Ursula was the High Sorcerer for more than half a century,” I start, rather casually, as I finish inspecting the mantel and surrounding woodwork with the same result as all six rooms before this one—nada. “Evander, you know better than anyone—the will is the first thing a High Sorcerer does, correct? Even before a celebration or ceremony. Wear the ring, write the will, then party.”
I step off the chair and haul it back to the table—even now Ursula’s insistence that we protect the original parquet is so ingrained it’s automatic. As I reposition the chair at the table, I’ve noticed Evander’s movements have slowed.
He’s listening. Good.
I wait, watching the wheels turn silently in Evander’s brain—he bows his head, hands braced on his sweatpants, as he sits back on his haunches. Another flue, another cold lead.
“If Marsyas knew what spell within Ursula’s will would be triggered early enough that she killed the driver and stole his keys before Ursula’s murder and made her exit, could we assume she took other precautions?”
Evander sighs and stands—the second floor will be next. I push on.
“So, she planned and accounted for the fact that she would have to leave to avoid the punishment for murdering Ursula. But she knew that either she needed back in or she needed to have people on the inside. Not Ruby and Wren. They—”
“You know what I think?” Evander asks suddenly, though it’s not a true question. His tone is low and aimed at the ashes. “I think Marsyas thought we’d eliminate those poor girls in her stead, believe we’d appeased Ursula’s need for punishment, and then be shocked out of our gourds when we found all the masters and the gates didn’t magically open. She wanted us to think we did it only to find out we’d murdered two innocent girls and would have to live with the guilt in our magical tomb for the rest of our days.”
Dark and twisted in a way someone like Marsyas Blackgate would appreciate. Sure.
“Maybe that was the plan at first. One doesn’t have to hold the power to destroy it. It can be snuffed out.”
“It most certainly can be.”
Turning around, Evander opens his mouth to say more but withdraws.
“What?” I prod.
He sucks in a deep breath and raises his exhausted eyes to mine. The green is faded like the morning light in this room, a shadow over the hour that can’t be stowed away. The anger in his voice hardens into something else. Fear? Resignation?
It’s far more terrifying than Evander in a rage.
“If we’re trapped here for good,” he starts, voice downshifted to a disheartened rasp, “I suppose that means we don’t have to address what our guests know.”
Address.As in wipe their memories or neutralize them—hurt them—in another way. Maybe even eliminate them. Two more dead in the name of the Four Lines.
“Say their names, Evander.”
His big, burly body deflates until I can see the little boy Evanderwas ten years ago staring back at me—chubby and round-faced, spitting nails in a preemptive strike against the softest parts of him, buried down deep. “Ruby and Wren… That will take some getting used to.”
A pang of guilt spreads, silken ice, smothering my gut. Evander truly is scared—for Ruby and Wren, for himself, for all of us.
A lump materializes in my throat and when I swallow, it lodges in my windpipe. I give Evander my best smile, knowing full well my voice will crack. “Well, we might have eternity to get it down pat.”
We haven’t discussed this enough, the elephant in the room. That this crumbling house will be our tomb, the grounds our final resting place. If we can’t get this right. If we don’t get this right.
This has never been an option for Evander.
With the barest hint of rising mirth, my cousin deadpans like a goddamn Hollywood action star, “Not if I have anything to do with it.”
“And that’s why we need you leading the Four Lines when this is over.”
I mean every word of it, and the way his face softens, I think he believes it.
“I—” Evander holds up a hand, his eyes lifting to the stamped gold-foil panels of the ceiling above. That cold slither of discontent flashes in my stomach before he even says it. “Do you hear that?”
CHAPTER36
RUBY
“Yes, that’s right, my dear. I had the Death master relic all along.”
