The front door opens, interrupting Viola, and Lyria walks in with a stack of books. The moment her eyes land on us, she grins. “We’re getting along, excellent.”
Viola reaches for her abdomen, but she doesn’t say a word. Her calm is unnerving; she should be furious at me, not offering me help out of pity or because she feels indebted to my brother. Of course, Beau saved her life, and he could still be out there in Albion, hiding from conduits, or…
“Where were you?” I turn my attention to my sister before my apprehension kills my optimism.
“At the library. We needThe Founder’s Book of Relicsto figure out a potential link between the relics being taken—I looked over some of Gryff’s reports when we went home last Wednesday—but Victor checked it out last.”
Great. What a convenient time to be dead and almost lead our only whisperer to her death.
“Victor has a peculiar message.” I look at Viola for permission to sharehis last words. I don’t know the rules of death magic, but now that I am in her debt for stabbing her, I’ll ask permission to even speak.
“He whom you seek lies in the catacombs,” she tells my sister.
“It’s not quite a riddle, but what if…” Lyria springs. “We have to go to the catacombs.”
For Haal’s sake, we are not going to the catacombs with an untrained whisperer.
“I’ll explain.” Lyria dumps her books on the couch opposite where Viola stands and walks around. She plucks a small black one out of the lot, flips it open, and taps on the page, beckoning Viola over. “This line is part of a bigger poem by Rian Faran. It’s about a mage’s journey through the catacombs to find their lover, but it’s tragic because the lover was still alive. So the mage was stuck in there forever.”
Viola brings her hand to her mouth, and Lyria nods empathetically. It’s a stupid poem, and if anything, it should warn themnotto go to the catacombs.
“Viola told me Beau’s and Victor’s bodies are at Dearly Departed, the funeral home in Albion,” I tell Lyria, hoping this information will shake the preposterous idea out of her head. “We should probably—”
“Sy, you’re not thinking this through.” My sister raises an eyebrow at me. “Victor is telling her to go to the catacombs for areason. Last words are always a variation of a riddle… maybe the whole poem is a riddle.”
Why is my sister so insistent on following Victor’s trail? She was so worried about Beau’s burial earlier, and now that we know exactly where to find his body, she’s chasing someone else’s ghost. “Lyr, weknowwhere Beau is. The catacombs are not safe…”
I walk up to them, leaning over my sister to have a better look at the book. She closes it, then turns to face me with exasperation. “Neither is the funeral home, Sy. If Beau’s and Victor’s bodies were taken, don’t youthinkblood Mortemagi are involved?”
“She’s right.” Viola glances up at me. I was hoping she’d side with me, given it’s in her best interest to stayawayfrom the catacombs. “A puppet tried to kill me moments after I stumbled upon Beau’s and Victor’s bodies.”
Blood Mortemagi—puppeteers—are the only mages in existence who use dead bodies. And if they are the ones guarding Beau and Victor, we’ll all be dead before we even set sights on them.
Maybe Victor is leading Viola to more clues about his murder, and weshouldgo to the catacombs. Maybe we can even ask Victor about Beau, considering their bodies were together. Or maybe… Beau ran into a conduit and was led to the Underiver, because there’s no other reason for him not to seek out Viola if he knew she was a whisperer, if only to get a message across to us. Gods, why must I be so hopeless?
“All right.” I sigh, shoving my pessimism aside. “I’ll inform Paltro about the bodies, and I need you to send an express courier to Gryff asking for updates,” I instruct Lyria. If puppeteers are involved, the three of us are no match to retrieve Beau’s and Victor’s bodies. Until then, we can follow Victor’s trail.
Viola glances at the clock. “My sister’s funeral isn’t until noon. If we leave now, we’ll make it back on time.” I blink at her. Even I am not reckless enough to take this on with no sleep. Before I can object, Lyria reaches for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Viola, no. You have to rest before Olivia’s funeral. Iknowhow important it is for you. You can’t risk missing it. The catacombs will wait. We’ll go tonight.”
“Okay.” Viola chokes up.
Lyria checks her watch as she steps away from us and toward her room. “I asked Paltro to bring me the Deathbringer’s final field reports at half-past six. If he finds Viola here, he’ll lose it.”
Haal, if anyone hates Mortemagi more than I, it’s Paltro.
Without a word, I bring my arm close to Viola, and she tilts her head up in surprise. Our eyes meet, and I look away. Railesza takes her sweet time slithering from her arm to mine, locking us into this awkward position.
“I’ll go to Paltro instead,” I mumble, walking away from Viola before Railesza’s even finished her loop around my arm. “I need Dad’s field reports, so I’ll grab the ones you need as well.”
“Probably a better idea.” Lyria puts on a sweater and saunters back to Viola. “I’ll take you back to the House of Death when you’re ready.” She hooks her arm through Viola’s, like they’ve been friends for years. “They’ve accepted my request to continue Mom’s research—I’ll be the first Aspieri Magus Principalis since her posthumous award.”
“Congratul—” Viola says, but I interrupt her.
“They did?”
“As long as I leave Nyx behind, I can attend classes at the House of Death,” she says, her excitement dying down. “I wish… I wish Beau were here…”
“Why?” I ask, betrayal coating my tongue. “So he could watch you be killed like they killed him?”