Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(59)

And you’ve heard Finn talk about her these past few weeks, haven’t you? You

’ve known who she really is all along. Why didn’t you tell me about her? Why

didn’t you tell Finn?”

Mallory shrugged. “For one thing, I was a bit preoccupied when Raymond came

back to Ashland. For another, it wasn’t my place to spill that sort of

secret. Besides, I figured that Deirdre would tell him herself sooner or

later, probably in some grand, overly dramatic fashion. Am I right?”

I winced, thinking back to that first lunch at the Pork Pit. “Oh, it was

certainly dramatic.”

“So we heard,” Lorelei chimed in. “You probably shouldn’t threaten to kill

long-lost relatives in your own restaurant. Could make the customers think

twice about what you might be putting in their food.”

I winced again. So news of our initial confrontation had made the rounds

through the underworld just like I’d feared. Terrific. But I couldn’t do

anything about that now, and this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

I looked at Lorelei. “Deirdre’s icicle-heart rune is the one that was

stamped on that letter you found in Raymond’s things. She’s his business

associate, the one he mentioned in the botanical gardens the night he died.

She’s the one who told him about your real identity and that you were here in

Ashland. Do you remember smuggling anything for her?”

Lorelei tapped her fingers against her jar. “I noticed her rune necklace at

the bank, and I’ve been thinking about that myself. But I never met or even

saw Deirdre before the party. If I ever did any business with her, it wasn’t

face-to-face, and she used an alias.”

I stared at Mallory. “And you? What do you know about Deirdre?”

The dwarf shrugged again. “Not much, I’m afraid. She and Lily Rose were a

year apart in school, but they were involved in the same activities, went to

the same parties, that sort of thing. So I saw her the way a parent would see

someone else’s child. Deirdre always struck me as being totally self-

absorbed, but then again, most teenage girls are.”

Lily Rose had been Lorelei’s mother and Mallory’s beloved granddaughter. I

hadn’t realized that she’d gone to school here in Ashland, though, much less

that she had known Deirdre back then. Sometimes it truly was a small world.

Mallory opened the black leather-bound book sitting on the table, revealing a

stack of old loose photos. I groaned.

“Something wrong?” Lorelei asked, still sipping her moonshine.

I shook my head. “I’ve had just about enough of old photos lately.”

“I think you’ll be interested in these,” Mallory said. “I came across them

in an old dresser a few days ago, while we were cleaning it out before putting

it in storage during the renovations. I set them aside just for you, Gin.”

Mallory pulled a photo off the top of the stack, her blue eyes misting over

with tears. She cleared her throat, then slid the photo across the table to

me. The picture featured a row of teenage girls in white dresses, with white

lace gloves crawling up their arms and blue ribbons braided through their

hair. It looked as though it had been taken at an old-fashioned cotillion.

Debutante parties like those were still quite popular in Ashland, especially

among the moneyed folks in Northtown. There was a whole season of them, each

event designed to introduce rich young women and rich young men who would make

suitable couples to further their families’ wealth, power, and prestige.

Mallory tapped her finger next to one of the girls. “That’s Lily Rose.”

A pretty girl with Lorelei’s black hair and blue eyes smiled shyly at the

camera.

She tapped her finger next to another girl. “And that’s Deirdre.”

Blond hair, blue eyes, big smile, icicle-heart necklace. I recognized Deirdre

immediately. Unlike Lily Rose, who was standing behind two other girls as if

she wanted to blend into the background, Deirdre was front and center in the

photo, her hands planted on her hips, obviously enjoying having her picture

taken.

Mallory tapped her finger next to a third girl, who was standing next to

Deirdre. “And I’m sure you know who that is.”

Blond hair, blue eyes, snowflake pendant.

My breath caught in my throat, and I leaned forward, wondering if my eyes were

playing tricks on me. “That looks like . . . my mama.” More shock zipped

through me. My mother had known Deirdre? Or had at least been at the same

party with her?

“That is your mama,” Mallory said. “From what I remember, Eira Snow was a

lovely girl. Quiet thing, though. I don’t think I ever heard her say more

than a few words at a time.”

I frowned, my mind spinning as I studied the photo. The Snows had been another

old-money Ashland family, so it made sense that Eira had gone to the cotillion

balls. Now that I’d seen the photo, I dimly remembered my mother telling Bria