Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(111)

me whenever she would tell me those bedtime stories about those old cotillion

balls. But it’s not even the most interesting picture.”

She pulled out another photo, this one of Eira and Deirdre standing with

another girl, Mab Monroe.

The three girls were clustered together, with Deirdre standing in the middle

and smiling at the camera. Eira and Mab were on opposite sides of her, and

neither one looked particularly happy to be so close to the other. In fact,

Mab had her head turned, staring at a guy standing at the very edge of the

photo.

Bria tapped her finger on the photo again. “And look who Mab has on her arm.

”

Black hair, black eyes, confident smile. Even though I could only see the side

of his face, I recognized him immediately.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered. “That’s Tucker.”

Bria nodded. “There are some more shots of him, talking with different

people.” She hesitated. “There are a couple of photos of him with Mom. He

wasn’t lying about knowing her.”

Bria looked at me, sympathy in her eyes, then started pulling out more photos

and arranging them on the counter. Eira, Deirdre, Mab, and Tucker were in many

of the shots, just like she said.

“What do you think it means?” Finn asked.

I stared at the long-ago images, more questions swirling through my mind. Had

Tucker been telling the truth? Had my mother really been part of some secret

society in Ashland? Were the members of the Circle really responsible for her

death? What had she done that upset them enough to want her dead?

I didn’t know, but I felt all the stubborn denial that I’d been hanging on

to burning to ash, replaced by the cold, sinking certainty that my mother hadn

’t been the person I’d thought she was.

Then who had she been?

And what did that make me now?

“Gin?” Finn asked again. “What do you think it means?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea. But it’s a place to start looking for

answers. And I’m going to find them.”





32

Three days later, I found myself right back where I had started.

Blue Ridge Cemetery.

And just like last time, I was standing inside someone else’s grave—my

mother’s.

Oh, I didn’t expect my mother’s casket to be empty, since I’d witnessed her

murder and knew that she was as dead as dead could be. But Eira Snow had known

Deirdre, Mab, and Tucker, so it seemed like a logical place to start searching

for answers. I’d already gone through Fletcher’s house and gathered up all

the old man’s files, and I had been systematically going through them one by

one, but I hadn’t uncovered any dirt there yet.

I was hoping that I might here tonight.

I’d arrived at the cemetery forty-five minutes ago, and I was almost down to

my mother’s casket. This night was even colder than when I was first here,

but the steady motions kept me warm, and the quiet gave me time to think about

everything that had happened.

But the more I thought about things, the fewer answers I came up with, just

like every other time I turned my attention to this new puzzle. For the first

time, I envied Finn. At least, he had answers about Deirdre, even if they were

dark, hurtful ones. People always said that ignorance was bliss, and I finally

understood what that meant.

Because not knowing was driving me crazy.

I was determined to find out exactly what my mother had been involved in, even

if it meant disturbing her final resting place—

Thunk.

My shovel hit something, and I frowned, knowing that I wasn’t quite down to

the casket yet. But I bent and cleared the dirt off the item I’d hit.

It was another silverstone box.

It was a much smaller box than the one that had been in Deirdre’s casket, but

my spider rune was carved into the top, just as it had been on the box in

Deirdre’s casket, and there was no doubt in my mind that the old man had left

it here for me to find.

“Fletcher,” I whispered.

It was one thing to dig up Deirdre’s grave—a stranger’s grave—and realize

that things weren’t what they seemed. But it was another to have the same

realization about my own mother’s grave.

My entire body went cold and numb, and I slowly sank into the dirt, the box

clutched in my hands like an anchor weighing me down. My stomach churned, and

dread squeezed my heart tight, but I’d come too far to stop now.

I couldn’t stop now.

So I took a moment to gather my thoughts, and then I fished out one of my

knives and cracked open the box.

Tucked inside was an envelope with my name scrawled across the front. With

trembling hands, I opened it, drew out the single piece of paper inside, and

read the note the old man had left me.

Gin,

Don’t open your mother’s casket. There’s nothing in there but regret and