Page 81 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

“There’s something else. Death.”

I swallowed. “You can smell death?”

He nodded. “It’s faint, but there’s a distinct stench of decomposition. Something, or someone, died here recently.”

The hair on my arms stood on end as he ran his fingers along the wall, coming to a halt where some of the clutter had been cleared. A click sounded as a wooden panel slid noisily out of place. I forced myself forward, my footsteps creaking on the wooden floorboards until I could see over Enhart’s shoulder.

My stomach churned at the sight before me. Four skeletons lay on the floor of the cramped room, arranged anatomically from skull to toe. A symbol with five points was etched faintly into the wooden slats beneath them. In its center sat a small copper basin.

Enhart stepped into the room, frowning. “It’s a pentagram.”

“A what?” I croaked, my nails carving half-moons into my palms.

“The symbol on the floor. It’s an arcane shape, sacred to certain magical sects.” He slipped into the room, crouching at the head of one of the skeletons.

“Are they … the missing girls?” I whispered.

He glanced up at me. “Perhaps, although the remains look much older than they should after only a few months. But I suppose if they were stripped of flesh somehow …” He trailed off, peering closely at the remains.

I wavered at the entrance to the room, resisting the urge to look away.

“These two appear to be significantly older than the others,” he continued, gesturing at the skeletons on the north and west arms of the pentagram. “Especially this one. See the dust?”

I did not, as I was actively trying not to look at them too closely.

The prince picked carefully through the contents of the basin, laying an assortment of items before him. A tarnished coin. A silver pendant with a swan etched into the surface. A clay bracelet with beads of all different sizes, as if crafted by a child. Finally, a small blue vial, which I was certain I had seen before in the window of a perfumer in north Valnar.

I released a shallow breath. “What is that?”

He shrugged. “Junk to us, but these items may have been important to their owners. The coin proves my theory though,” he said, holding it up to the light. “It’s been out of circulation for decades. How old was your man?”

“He wasn’t my man,” I said quickly.

“Fine, how old was your casual acquaintance?” he replied.

“Not much older than me. Nine and twenty, I think?”

“Then unless he’s been killing since before he could walk, at least two of these victims aren’t his.”

My stomach heaved. How long had this been going on under the nose of every citizen of Valnar? And if it wasn’t Ewan, who was it? What kind of monster could snatch women off the streets, murder them in cold blood, and leave only the bones behind?

“I’ve heard there’s evidence the girls were taken from completely different areas of the city,” he mused. “One from the outskirts and one from the Trade District. Then there’s your attempted abduction from the alley not far from the city center. And you had little in common with each other. I wonder.” He trailed off, tapping his chin.

“What?” I urged.

“Perhaps Ewan was possessed.”

I sucked in a breath even though I already knew that it was possible to impose your will on others; Enhart had demonstrated that to me on my very first day of training. “By whom?” I asked.

“Based on this,” he gestured to the pentagram, “I’d put my coin on a witch.”

My eyes widened. It couldn’t be. “How could that be? There’s so few of us left.”

He shrugged. “It’s not a perfect theory, but it might explain why he was acting the way you described on the night of the attack.”

“But why would a witch want to possess him?” I asked. “Why not do their own dirty work?”

“The castle isn’t the only thing that’s warded in Valnar,” he said. “I can’t be sure of the specifics, but it could be that whoever is behind this was unable to enter the city on their own.”