It was Wednesday night. I couldn’t believe it had been so easy to get Patrick and his parents here. My acting skills were obviously awesome. It was probably my guilt making me think they’d be suspicious something other than a get-to-know-you dinner was going on.
Patrick, Olivia, and I chatted while Angelica got to know Patrick’s parents. Everyone except me had a glass of wine. I was cradling tap water. A Baileys would have been nice, but I needed to keep a clear head. My magic and brain-to-mouth filter was bad enough when I was sober.
“I have to get the hors d’oeuvres out of the oven.”
Patrick looked at me. “But you’re a witch. Shouldn’t you just, you know…” He waved his hand in the air.
“I’m not very good yet. I’m likely to drop them all.”
Olivia giggled, and I shot her a cranky look.
“What? I was just agreeing with you.”
I rolled my eyes, but then I grinned. Being angry with her was a lost cause, and I knew she was just having fun. “Do you mind helping me, Patrick?” I touched his arm—I’d heard that was a rule of flirting, to be touchy-feely. Not really my thing, but I’d try anything once. Well, almost anything—I would never ever, ever suck someone’s toes. I shuddered.
He grabbed my hand. “Sure. Lead the way.”
We went to the kitchen. I turned the oven off and opened the door. “There they are. Could you just magic them onto this platter pretty please? Ha, platter pretty please, platter pretty please, platter pretty please.”
“What are you doing?” Patrick’s face was devoid of anything that said “fun.”
“Sorry. I like a good tongue twister. It was there, and I couldn’t resist.” I shrugged, then picked the white platter up off the table. “Would you do the honours, kind sir?”
“I can handle this. Step aside, young lass.” He pushed his sleeves up with an exaggerated motion. This joking side of him was nice. I was going to be sad if he was Henry. It was still hard to believe Patrick could have killed Mrs Valentine. How could people seem so nice but be so evil? And how could I be such a betrayer? He magicked the food onto the large white dish, the little puff pastries forming neat lines. Now we had his magic signature on the food. Angelica would get one and send it to be tested.
“Thanks, Patrick. Maybe one day I’ll be as good at magic as you.”
“Just keep practicing.” He winked.
I went back into the sitting room and offered the food around. Patrick’s mum took one and bit into it. “Mmm. These are delicious. Thank you.”
Angelica took one. “Thank you, dear.” As she popped it into her mouth, I sneezed.
“Bless you,” said Patrick’s dad. I resisted glaring at him. I’d gone back and looked at the picture I’d taken of the man putting the spelled food into Knight’s bowl, and with the ring, I was sure it was him.
“Thank you.” I sniffed, trying to make it as believable as possible. When I’d sneezed, Angelica had magicked the pastry to James, who would be checking the magic signature against Henry’s right now. I looked over at Patrick, who was laughing with Olivia. It was as if a giant centipede was Irish dancing in my stomach. If he was Henry, he was not going to be happy when we arrested him. And what would his parents do? I was fully prepared to protect Olivia, and I went and stood next to her, just in case.
Magic signatures were complex animals, so it would take a few minutes for James to confirm. In the meantime, sweat slid down the valley between my boobs. I pulled a face. Yuck. How was I supposed to deal with that? I pushed my shirt into the valley and tried to mop it up. Why was nervous sweat a thing? It was uncomfortable enough being nervous without leaking moisture and giving a person more to worry about. Oh, God, did I have huge wet patches under my arms? I lifted one arm and then the other and looked.
Olivia stared at me. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m just a bit hot.”
Patrick grinned and nodded.
He had to go there. Why did guys always have to go there? Sometimes it was best to just let those comments go. I wasn’t in the mood for flirty banter, but I supposed he didn’t know that.
Argh, I was such a bad sort-of girlfriend.
There was a knock on the front door. I tensed. Olivia and I shared a worried glance. That would be James. If Patrick’s signature hadn’t matched, he was going to send Angelica a text, but if it was positive, he was going to turn up like a normal person, to avoid startling the prey. He would also have other agents with him.
A prickly wave of disappointment and anger shredded its way through my veins. As Angelica answered the door, I couldn’t help but look at Patrick, my feelings clear on my face. “Why?” I asked.
“Why what?” Then he must have realized what I was talking about. He was Henry, and he had known this whole time I worked with the PIB. Millicent and I had questioned him, for goodness’ sake. But he must have believed he’d gotten away with it, let his guard down. All the colour seeped from his face; then red replaced the stark white as fury lit his fuse. “What are you talking about, Lily?” Wow, so he was going to try and pretend his way out of it.
James and Angelica entered, followed by Beren, William, Dana Piranha, and two other agents—the man and woman who watched over me the other day but whose names I couldn’t remember. I was hopeless.
Dana gave me a dirty look—what the hell had I done?—then she cuffed Patrick’s dad before he could cast a spell. Beren cuffed Patrick’s mum while James and Will approached Patrick.
After everything that had happened, I’d gotten to know him, and I wanted to hear what he had to say for himself. I also wanted answers for Knight and Ida. “Why did you do it, Patrick, or should I say, Henry?”
“You can’t prove anything.” He looked warily at James and stepped back until he hit the back of one of the armchairs next to the fireplace.
“Unfortunately, we can. Those hors d’oeuvres you helped me with; that’s how.”
“But what did I do, exactly? Help you. You’re arresting me for helping you?”
He obviously had no idea we’d found her car or the hotel room. I couldn’t give everything away, so I fibbed. “Someone reported her car had been sitting in the street… another witch, so the no-notice spell didn’t work on them. It was your magic signature, Patrick. And that mole on your chest is just like Henry’s. What I really want to know, well, one of the things I really want to know, is are you old, or is this your real form?” James, Will, and I stepped closer in unison, Will angling more around the other side of the chair. Patrick tried to look at us all at once, his eyes darting around.
His mother tried to walk forward, but Beren held her cuffed hands behind her back. “Don’t tell them anything, Pat. Keep your mouth shut, and we can walk away with what’s ours. And you.” She stared daggers at me, and I had no doubt that if she had access to her magic, there would be something sticking out of my chest right now. “How can you live with yourself, betraying your boyfriend like that?”
My mouth dropped open. What? Out of everything that had happened, that’s what she was focussing on? What a nutjob. “Maybe you should be asking yourself how Patrick could kill someone.” I stared at him again, into those eyes that were his and Henry’s. “So are you really Henry or Patrick?”
His eyes were pleading. “I’m as you see me now. Please, Lily. You can’t believe I would kill anyone. I’m not Henry. I don’t care what they say.” He finished it off by looking at the ground, then sneaking glances around, probably to make sure he wasn’t about to be cuffed.
Well, I had to give him points for perseverance. He was as stubborn as I was. “Why did you do it? Surely it wasn’t all about the money. I don’t know you well, but I know you enough to be confused as to why. Was it really about the money?”
Patrick’s mother grunted. I looked over to see her still struggling against Beren’s hold. “Patrick, if you ruin this for us, I’ll kill you. Think of how hard you’ve worked over the last two years, what you’ve had to put up with. Don’t let me down. I’ll disown you.”
His head slowly lifted. He stared at his mother, his eyes glassy. He looked like a deer that had just been shot by someone it trusted. He blinked a few times. “After everything I’ve been through, you’d disown me?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re such a disappointment.”
Patrick shook his head slowly. “I did all this for you, Mother. For you.”
“Shut up, you dolt!” She turned to her husband. “Make him shut up for Christ’s sake.”
Patrick’s father shook his head. “No, Pamela. I’ve gone along with your crazy schemes long enough. I’ve watched my son suffer, and I should’ve stepped in and stopped the whole farce long ago.” He turned sad eyes on Patrick. “I’m sorry, Son. Can you forgive me?”
This was like an episode of Days of Our Lives. And I had no idea what they were talking about. What was going on?
“Farce? Farce?” Pamela’s voice rose, until she was shouting. “This was for our family. Patrick was born to be a star, and we deserve that money. That hag took advantage, even when she knew the truth, but she couldn’t agree to one little attraction spell. Not one. After everything we did for her.” She lunged for her husband. Beren yanked her back, and she slammed against his chest. “You’ll regret this, Simon. We’ll be the laughing stock of the art world. If you don’t back me in this, I’ll never speak to you again.” Was she growling? Ooh, there was a bit of froth too.
“Take her away for questioning, Agent DuPree.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Don’t you—” she shrieked at Patrick, her crazed eyes glowing with hate. But before she could finish, Beren dragged her through a doorway.
Patrick’s shoulders sagged, and he held his arms out. “Just get this over with.” James cuffed him.
“Patrick, please tell me what happened. I don’t believe you’re a cold-blooded murderer.” Maybe I was a fool, but this beaten-down man in front of me with the sad brown eyes was damaged, and I hadn’t even realised.
“I can’t tell you, Lily. I’m ashamed. But please know I’m sorry… for everything.”
He hung his head. James turned to me. “I have to take him now, Lily. Sorry.”
I shrugged, as if to say, okay.
Piranha’s voice was louder than it needed to be. “Come on, Will. Let’s get this one back to headquarters, leave the idiot witch to get over her murdering boyfriend.” I turned and stared at her. Wow, she wasn’t even trying to be subtle. “Yes, Lily. You’re an idiot. You’re a useless witch. I have no idea why Ma’am keeps you around. But I’ll work it out. Ta, ta.” She raised her eyebrow at Will, then stepped through her doorway, taking Patrick’s dad with her. The other two agents, the ones whose names I couldn’t recall, followed her out.
Will looked at me, but I couldn’t read what he was thinking. His cold, stern expression was on. He looked as if he might say something but then shook his head, made his doorway, and stepped through. Wow, way to stick up for me. Did he hate me for lying to Patrick? Or was he angry because he thought I’d been dating Patrick? Whatever it was, he let his girlfriend chomp me to shreds, as usual. Did I really need to know anymore?
Angelica met my gaze. “I’d bet my favourite grimoire that there’s more to this story, Lily, and when I find out, I’ll let you know.”
I nodded. I wanted to ask her to go easy on Patrick, but what did I really know about him? Maybe he was trying to con me to the end, but his mother… what a witch. Had she driven him to it somehow? I had a feeling she was behind the whole thing, but I’d have to wait to get answers.
“I’ll see you both later.” Angelica disappeared.
I shuffled over to the Chesterfields and dropped into one. Olivia joined me. “Wow, that was… intense. Are you okay?” she asked.
Was I? I’d thought I wasn’t getting attached, but there was a tiny ache in that thing I called a heart. He’d almost looked like a lost child when his mother was in full rant. But still, he’d killed Ida—I couldn’t deny that—I’d seen it with my own eyes. As sad as I was, I knew catching him was the right thing to do. However, being undercover, pretending to have motivations I didn’t, unsettled me. I had betrayed his trust, in more ways than one. And I’d confused myself. “I don’t know. Ask me tomorrow, when I’ve had time to digest all this.”
“Speaking of digesting, we didn’t really get to eat. Do you think Angelica would mind if we polished off some of that Black Forest cake? It’s not like we have any guests to feed.” Her eyes glittered with caketicipation.
I gave her a sad smile. “You go ahead. I’m not really hungry right now.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
Olivia got up and made her way to the kitchen. When she’d reached the door, I called out, “But leave me half.”
She snorted. “Of course. What kind of friend would I be if I ate all the cake?”
“An ex-friend?”
She grinned and left the room.
I sat and stared sightlessly at the floor. Why did doing the right thing have to feel so wrong?