The heavenly aroma of fresh-brewed coffee comforted Lucien, who clutched his steaming mug with trembling hands. He took a slow sip. His heart pounded in his ears, echoing over the shouts from his parents arguing in the foyer. Footsteps neared the kitchen where Lucien stood beside the counter, and he faced his mother like a frightened snow-deer caught on the road as she stormed in.

Mrs. Cromwell rounded the corners and trapped her son in. Rage smoldered in her eyes as she pursed her lips in a tight scowl. "Would it have killed you to act like you care that your sister was murdered?"

"What?" Lucien croaked out.

"Your crocodile tears made you look like a fool. Don't even get me started on how you disrespected your family by hanging around those murderers at Charlotte's funeral. Gods, do you know how embarrassing that was for me? For your father?"

Lucien shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Words escaped him as he stared into his mug of coffee, unable to continue looking her in the eye.

"Mrs. Pepperheart had the nerve to ask me if the Vales' put a spell on you." Mother's scornful laughter rang out, yet no traces of genuine amusement showed on her face. "It was humiliating enough not to have you with us during the first night of Harvest again, but you and that wicked boy found Charlotte. Are you just naive or really that stupid, Lucien?"

"The Vale's had nothing to do with her murder," Lucien said, yet the confidence in his tone wavered. Although he believed that with all of his heart, he knew he wouldn't be able to convince her.

"Where's your proof, darling?" Mother's sharp nails touched his back, resting near the nape of his neck. She towered behind him, suddenly yanking him by the collar of his shirt. "Hmm?"

"I-I don't have any," Lucien stammered. "But I'll find some! I swear, I'll find Charlotte's killer."

His mother released him with a frustrated groan. "Well, you better get to it, Detective. The council's already looking into their family. Nobody knows death curses quite like the Vale's, you know."

Lucien paled. "But they have no evidence, right? They can't arrest them for her murder."

Mrs. Cromwell scrutinized her son for a moment, resisting an eye roll. "Some days I swear Nathaniel must've dropped you on your head and didn't tell me." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Sweetie, you need to be realistic here, okay? Isn't it all suspicious to you? First, the Vale boy walks you home and you discover Charlotte together. It was like they wanted to make sure you found her outside our home and sent their boy to make sure that happened. They have the most knowledge about death curses and even identified the curse used.

"I know you like those people and that peculiar boy is one of the only friends you have, but you need to face the facts. They're killers. It's in their nature, in their blood. You have just been a mere pawn they played with. Can you not see that, sweetie? Why do you think they only invite you over to their home? They picked the most innocent, naive person to fool. Of course they expect you to defend them."

"You're wrong about them." Lucien shook his head. "The Vale's are good people, despite their ancestors' wrongs. They aren't them. I'm one of the only people who doesn't judge them. That's why they like having me over."

Mr. Comwell stepped into the kitchen, rubbing at his reddish cheek. He cleared his voice, then made his way over to the fridge for a cold beer. Dark circles clung to his eyes as he downed his drink. "Charlotte shouldn't have died." He gripped his bottle tight, gazing over at his only son. "If you'd just stayed with us for Harvest, she never would've left to go find you."

The revelation shook Lucien to his core. "No, why would she go looking for me? Charlotte knew where I was at. I-I told her..."

"Maybe your sister actually wanted you here, with your family."

"I'm sorry." Lucien bowed his head in shame. "I didn't know that Charlotte came looking for me that night. Did she think I was in trouble?"

"You always have to make everything about yourself, don't you?" Mr. Cromwell grumbled, then chugged more of his beer. "I'm heading upstairs. There's leftovers in the fridge from the service if you get hungry." He made his way out of the kitchen, heading toward the spiraling staircase.

"Why do you like the Vale's house so much, hm?" Mother asked. "Do they have some luxurious items that we don't? Is it the dark magic embracing their home that thrills you the most? Or do you just fancy their creepy boy?"

Lucien flushed at her inquisition, then shook his head. "They're just nice people, that's all. Castor's my friend."

Mrs. Cromwell didn't respond, and instead, turned to head upstairs with her husband. When she was out of sight, Lucien released a shaky breath he'd held in. He sipped his coffee, willing his pounding heartbeat to settle, but he couldn't stop thinking about what his dad had told him.

Why would Charlotte head out to find him? Was he the reason she was killed?

🪄

Incense and melted wax wafted in the air as Lucien entered the emporium. Smoke coiled around the shelves, brimming with spell craft supplies. They offered anything a wizard needed at their little shop. Lucien remembered when he had first picked out his wand there, with Mrs. Vale encouraging him to choose whichever one suited him best.

"Lucien, dear." Mrs. Vale rounded the corner, makeup immaculately done as always. She came over and embraced him in a tight hug; her scent of vanilla and jasmine was calming and reassuring. "I'm so sorry about Charlotte. Please, let me know if you and your family need anything, okay? I've spoken with your mother since the police detectives started their investigation and let her know everything I could find."

If only Lucien could've been a fly on the wall during that conversation. Did his mother accuse her of killing Charlotte? Or did she put on her facade again for everyone?

"Thank you, I appreciate that." Lucien gave her a sorrowful, half-smile. "Is Castor here?"

"He's in the back office, going over inventory." Mrs. Vale pointed behind them.

Velvety robes brushed against Lucien as he maneuvered around them, admiring the handcrafted designs Mrs. Vale created. It brought back memories of when she'd sewn Castor's robes and even Lucien's, when they were young kids. Lucien still had his old robes, tucked away deep in his closet, much like a lot of his secrets these days.

Lucien made his way to the back office and knocked on the door. When nobody answered, he tried the knob and creaked it open to peek inside. Castor sat behind a desk, nose deep in a thick leather book. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was his grimoire.

Every wizard family had their own personal grimoire of spells and innovations, but Lucien wondered what dark spells hid within the pages of that book. The Vales' family crest was centered on the cover, depicting a majestic phoenix rising from the flames with its wings spread wide. Shades of oranges, reds, and golds blended together in a way that made the phoenix flames seem to flicker around the bird.

Lucien crept behind him and lowered his head until it rested near Castor's shoulder, his lips dangerously close to his ear as he asked softly, "Reading anything good?"

"Not really." Castor's neck turned a faint shade of red as he closed his book, then he waved his wand over it to ensure it was locked. Nobody ever left their family's secrets untethered for anyone to see. "How've you been?"

"Taking things one day at a time." Lucien sighed as he moved away from Castor only to prop himself up on his desk, letting his legs dangle off the edge. "It's been suffocating at home with my folks."

"I'm sorry." Castor rested a hand atop of his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You should just stay at our house. Move in already. My folks already love you and you know they'd agree to it."

"I really should." Lucien chuckled as he reached down for Castor's hand and brushed his fingers along his rough, calloused skin. "Where would I sleep?"

"My room, of course." Castor didn't miss a beat. "We could always bring another bed in there."

"Maybe I'd rather just share yours." Lucien's heart pounded thunderously in his chest from the brazen remark, and he adored the way Castor flushed at his suggestion. "You're always so warm and it's comforting to sleep near. My bedroom at home is like a yeti's ice den at nighttime. I swear they want to freeze me to death there."

"You'd never be cold with me."

Something akin to desire flashed in Castor's eyes, and Lucien wondered if he had mistaken it. Castor was a straight man. His best friend. Perhaps it was merely a trick of his fire magic, as he sensed warmth emanate from his palm against his thigh. It ignited a deep longing within him, rousing secret fantasies that had played out in his mind so similarly with those warm hands exploring other parts of his body.

"Why do you always go back to your folks?" Castor rasped.

"They're my family." Lucien shrugged. "Although, I guess it's for appearances as well. Can't have anyone thinking something's wrong within the Cromwell home."

"Who cares what others think?"

"My mother." Lucien frowned. "That's what she's always concerned about. Our stupid public image. I honestly wish someone would shame our family name just out of spite to her."

"I hate how you have to deal with her crap." Castor's strong, muscular arms suddenly wrapped around his waist, gently readjusting him on the desk. "Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you didn't fall off. You were really close to the edge."

"It's okay. I know you'd catch me anyway," Lucien teased.

Castor gave him a sly grin. "Yeah, I'd let you fall right into my lap. You can stay there where I know you're safe and help me finish up these inventory reports I was supposed to have done already."

"Distracted by all those dark magic spells, weren't you?" Lucien playfully chided. "I don't mind helping out. Just show me where to start and what to do. I'm a pretty fast learner."

"I'm sure you are." Castor waggled his brows with a taunting grin.

Once Castor revealed the heap of paperwork for him, Lucien almost felt like he was back in his office among the Supernatural Council. If only he had the luxury of having Castor there at work to keep him entertained. Lucien would honestly never get anything done around there.

"I hope people aren't giving you and your family too much grief over Charlotte's death." Lucien tensed against the desk he still sat on with papers strewn across in front of him. "I remember at the funeral how they acted, and I'm so sorry. They're fools to think you all would ever hurt a soul."

"They've dropped by the house once to question us and a few times here at the shop," Castor said. "Guess they're wanting to be diligent, but I think they suspect us as much as everyone else around here."

"What if we struck up our own investigation?" Lucien suggested.

Castor nodded. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt, right? I might even know a guy who could help us out. He owes me a favor anyway. Let's visit him tonight."

Lucien raised a brow. "Sure, if you want. Maybe make sure the guy's awake before we go flying over there though."

"Don't worry. He's a night owl. Definitely awake." Castor smirked. "We're going to do what we can to get Charlotte justice, but I'm also concerned for your safety too. I haven't forgotten how her killer pointed his wand at you, ready to curse you to death. That scared the hell out of me. You have to be careful out there."

"Yeah, I understand," Lucien murmured. "I will."

Something in his expression shifted. Castor's mischievous smile vanished, dark eyes seeming to stare right into his soul. "If anyone tries to curse you like that again, I'll kill them myself."