Page 48 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

I ignore the warmth climbing into my face. Mostly.

Finn taps the notebook. "We follow the suspects."

I nod. "We search quietly."

"No council involvement."

"Definitely no council involvement."

His grin widens, the plan settling between us. Risky. Possibly foolish. Almost certainly dangerous. Neither of us seems discouraged.

The realization should worry me. Instead, I find myself watching him—the way his attention sharpens whenever he encounters a mystery, the way confidence settles into his posture, the way his eyes brighten when he becomes excited.

Finn glances up. Our gazes meet, and the bond stirs immediately, warm, steady, present. Neither of us looks away. Not right away.

Eventually he clears his throat. "We should start tomorrow."

The roughness in his voice does strange things to my concentration. I nod. "Tomorrow."

Neither of us moves. The diary remains open, the suspect list remains between us, and the investigation has never felt more complicated. Or more promising.

And sitting across from Finn, planning a search neither of us should probably attempt, I realize I'm looking forward to all of it.

18

FINN

My mother doesn't even look surprised when I show up carrying the journal I'd grabbed from Reina's collection, the one holding the interesting find I'd just discovered. That's never a good sign.

She glances up from the fishing nets spread across the boathouse table and sighs. "How much trouble are you planning to cause today?"

I pull out a chair. "That depends."

"On?"

"What you know about old harbor tunnels."

The net slips from her hands. Not much. Just enough and notices me noticing. Neither of us says anything for a moment.

She slowly sits down. "Why are you asking?"

"Because every answer I find creates three new questions."

"That sounds familiar."

"It should."

My mother rubs her temple. "I was hoping you'd outgrow that."

"No such luck."

The corner of her lips twitches, then she grows serious again, the change immediately catching my attention. "You know something."

She studies me, deciding, measuring, and eventually exhales. "There are old passages beneath the harbor."

My pulse quickens. "How old?"

"Older than the council."