Bloodleaf (Bloodleaf 1)

That was when my legs gave out.

* * *

“Lay her here, on this chaise.”

Dedrick did as he was told and gently set me down, while Kate fluttered around me nervously, feeling the temperature of my forehead and prying my eyelids open to check the dilation of my pupils. I tried to swat her away. “Stop fussing. I’m fine. It was just a little dizzy spell, that’s all.”

“When was the last time you ate, my dear?” Dedrick asked with parent-like concern in his voice. He was even handsomer up close, with glossy brown hair, a smooth smile, and the barest hint of a dimple in his chin. He patted my bare hand with his gloved one.

“I’m fine,” I insisted.

“I’ll make sure she’s cared for,” Kate said. “And you’ll have your costume by midafternoon tomorrow, on my honor.” She paused. “Dedrick, I know we haven’t spoken in person since . . . since . . .”

“Since you ran off with my right-hand man?” Dedrick gave a soft chuckle.

“Yes. That.”

“I realized long ago that if I’d taken care of you better, escorted you myself, maybe it would have turned out differently. But I can’t blame you for falling in love. I’ve done so myself. Hundreds of times.”

She laughed lightly. “I’ve little doubt. Your reputation is renowned. You’d probably have made a terrible husband.”

“Probably,” he said, laughing with her, “but you would have made an excellent wife.” I looked away as he fondly brushed her cheek. Kate’s smile waned, and Dedrick quickly pulled his hand away, clearing his throat. “Your mother will be thrilled to know I’ve seen you. Can I let her know your happy news?”

“Will you?” Kate asked, eyes shining. “I’d love to see her again, even if nobody else wants to see me. Maybe after the baby is born . . .”

“Your mother misses you desperately,” Dedrick said. “I’m sure that a reunion can be arranged.”

He’d donned his hat and was at the door to leave when it swung open and Nathaniel, coming in from the other side, froze with his hand on the knob. The atmosphere immediately chilled.

“Dedrick,” Nathaniel said, the word sounding more like an accusation than a salutation.

“Nathaniel,” Dedrick replied. “So good to see you.” He tipped his hat to Kate and looked around. “Lovely little house you’ve got here. Hope to see it again soon.”

Nathaniel, occupying the whole of the doorway, did not move for Dedrick to get by, and their shoulders hit against each other heavily as Dedrick pushed past him. Dedrick gave one last salute over his shoulder. “Good day to you both.”

When he was gone, Kate turned to her husband, seething. “What was that?” she demanded. “He was a guest—?a client, actually. He came because he needed a seamstress for a costume; he didn’t know he’d find me. Could you not muster a speck of civility?”

Nathaniel’s voice was tight. “Do not let that man in my house again.” I lay still as a stone, hoping they’d forget I was in the room. In fact, it seemed they already had.

“Your house? This is our house, Nathaniel. I can let in whomever I want. What has gotten into you?”

“Don’t,” Nathaniel said again, dangerously calm. “Do not disobey me, Kate. My word on this is final.”

Kate opened her mouth and then closed it; I was certain that this was the first time Nathaniel had ever spoken to her in such a way. She might have cried, were she not so stunned.

Zan came in without so much as a knock. He marched across the room to slam a book open on the table, unaware of the tension he’d disrupted.

“I’ve done some more studying,” he said. “And I think I’ve pinpointed a way to get ahead of this. A way to discover, if not the perpetrator himself, the time and place of his next murder.”

Kate took a deep breath and smoothed out her dress, avoiding Nathaniel’s eyes. “And just how are you going to do that?”

He beckoned, and I got wearily to my feet to see what he had to show us. “Here. This is a volume on high magic. Back in the day, high mages lived and died by what they called the sight: visions from the Empyrea. Some were able to see pictures of the past; others, the present. And some—?a very rare and special few—?had the ability to see the future.”

“That doesn’t help us,” Kate said. “Emilie’s a blood mage.”

“True,” Zan said, “and blood magic doesn’t work the same way as high magic does—?she could chart star formations or stare at tea leaves all day and she still couldn’t discern with any certainty what she might have for her next meal.” His excitement was rising at the same pace as my dread. “But given the right circumstances, blood mages can speak to the dead.”

For the second time that day, I saw stars dart across my vision, and I grabbed the edge of the table, wavering, desperate to keep from fainting again.