Page 75 of Bedeviled

Olga looks a little sick when she adds, “There’s another individual that mentions his name as well…”

She taps on another entry, and I go preternaturally still.

Adan Quintana

The hairs along my arms rise. The demon, Maelverynox, mentioned he was bonded to this very man.

Farther down the row, I see Memnon’s name again.

Memnon, no!

“I wasn’t going to say anything after the first one, but when I saw the second instance of someone mentioning his name, I…I thought you should know.”

It’s not that Memnon killing people is shocking. I’ve obviously seen the man end lives several times myself. It’s that these took place after the Equinox catastrophe. Sometime between when we got married and now. And while I understand why Memnon might’ve hunted down Adan, I have no idea why he targeted this Martin Miller.

“When did these deaths happen again?” I ask.

“Adan died two days ago, and this other one died six days ago.”

Okay, so definitely after the Equinox catastrophe. And after Memnon and I got married.

My eyes return to the ledger, my stomach roiling.

“The Politia has me do some of this work for them, and the families of the dead sometimes hire me out,” Olga explains. “Lot of rich individuals involved recently,” she adds. I glance at her before my gaze returns to the ledger and those incriminating final words.

She continues. “The Politia has made a note of Memnon’s name, and I’m guessing they’ll bring him in for questioning.”

I think she means to warn me, maybe so that I can brace for the moment my soul mate is arrested and charged with these people’s murders. I don’t know how to break it to Olga that this will never happen. Not when Memnon has both the money and the literal power to stop such an inquest.

Instead, I give Olga a tight smile. “Thanks for letting me know.”

She and her familiar leave me then. My gut churns as Olga’s footfalls move away from my room, and I’m left to ruminate over what she said.

Grabbing my latest journal, I scribble down the names of the individuals Memnon most certainly killed.

I spare Adan’s name only a passing glance, feeling a guilty spark of relief that he and his demon are no longer hunting me.

My eyes linger on the second name—Martin Miller. Killed days before Adan.

Who were you, Martin, and why did my husband want you dead?

As soon as I get the last needed ingredient, I intend to ask Memnon, face-to-face.

CHAPTER 17

When I open the door to Memnon’s—I mean our—house, the first thing I hear is supernatural pop music blaring from hidden speakers. The tune is familiar; the singer’s a siren—or rather, was. I think she died decades ago, but her songs have been immortalized.

My eyebrows hike way up as I listen to the upbeat melody, the magic in the music pricking at my skin.

I glance down at Nero, whose tail is twitching curiously. I open my mouth to make a comment, then close it.

Memnon steps out then from the kitchen, the sleeves of his crisp button-up rolled to his elbows.

A huge grin spreads across his face when he sees me.

“Wife,” he says, clearly relishing the term.

My pulse was already beginning to gallop at the sight of him, and now it races at the title I’ve long bucked against.