Page 54 of An Oath at Midnight

He nodded, but it wasn’t very convincing, and slid a couple books from the shelf. “You check these.” He passed them to me and grabbed more for himself.

We sat on the floor and started flipping through the books.

I got through the first one, shoved it aside and grabbed the next. I stopped at a picture of the kids who’d written for the school newspaper. Willow stood in the back. I’d forgotten she’d done that. She’d worked on the paper for a few years. Her story ideas were regularly shot down because, more often than not, they were way too controversial. It used to piss her off.

Bram slid his book my way and pointed at a picture. “Prom committee.”

I looked over the picture. “All the victims are either in that picture or related to one of them.” I pointed to Robert Hazark standing to the side, his arm around Jenna’s shoulders. They’d married seven years ago. “Margot’s stepbrother. Clara Hope is the one holding Chase Golden’s hand.” All of them were the rich kids, the ones with influential families. “Calvin and Katana Adler.” They stood beside each other in the back. I looked at Bram. “Could this really be what links them? There has to be something else.”

“What’s your gut telling you?” he asked, surprising me. “Close your eyes.”

I didn’t do this as much anymore. I’d stopped listening to my inner voice, to my instincts. But I did as he said and quieted my mind, letting my instincts guide me. Encouraging them to rise from below all the other noise, all the crap floating around in my head. I opened my eyes and stared down at the picture again. “My gut is telling me this is definitely a lead.” I studied their faces. “Do you think one of them is the killer?”

Bram looked down as well. “Possibly.”

I felt nauseous.

“But then why would they try to pin the murders on Willow?” he said.

I had no clue, and I didn’t know how much time I had left to find out. There was only one person I could think of who’d want to frame Willow. Who hated her beyond reason.

“What is it?” Bram asked.

“What about Isaac?”

His expression darkened. “You think he could have something to do with this?”

“At this stage, it’s just a wild hunch.” I pulled my phone out. “But the way he hates Wills… He’d love to destroy her. And they’ve had recent issues with him trying to buy the stores along her block.” I did a quick search. “The real estate company he heads is called Dark Star Investments.” The website popped up, and I clicked the “our team” section. There was a picture of Isaac, the founder and CEO, and at the bottom of the page was a list of the company’s directors/shareholders. Robert Hazark, Chase Golden, Clara Hope, Calvin Adler, and Maria Watson were listed. All but Isaac and Maria had been on the prom committee. “Look at this.” Isaac was a very busy boy. The council wasn’t a full-time position and most of the councilors had other employment, businesses or whatever, but it did take up a lot of their time and energy—looked like Isaac had some friends to help him out.

Bram looked down at it. “What are you thinking?”

“Something insane,” I said.

“Like Isaac killing off his own shareholders to make it look like Willow? Like she’s going after them for coming for her?” he said.

That’s exactly what I was thinking. “Come on.” I put away all the books except the two with the pictures we’d found. Those I shoved in my bag. Then I strode to the librarian’s desk and jiggled the mouse, waking up the computer.

Bram moved to stand behind me. “What’re you looking for?”

“Copies of the school newspaper during the time Wills was working on it. They must have it all on file.” A space to enter a password popped up on the screen. “Dammit.” I turned to Bram. “You think Talon could hack into the school system?”

“Yeah, easily.”

“Do you think he would if I asked?” Talon wasn’t outwardly hostile to me, but I wasn’t sure he’d be willing to do me any favors.

“He’ll do it,” Bram said, the “I’ll make sure of it” went unsaid.

We left the way we came, taking the long halls back to the exit. I reactivated the security system, Bram locked the door after us, and I tugged up my hood before we jogged across the grounds and back to the car.

When we got home, I was too wired to sleep, and the nap I’d had earlier wasn’t helping. We strode across the yard to the tree house, and Bram dragged off his shirt, scooped me into his arms, then flew us up to the deck. I plonked down on the couch when we got inside, pulling a yearbook out of my bag to flick through it.

Bram turned on music. It was low and moody, the way he liked it, then he grabbed a couple drinks from the kitchenette and put one down in front of me. “How much time do you think we have to solve this thing?” he asked.

Nerves darted through me. “I don’t know.” I lifted my shirt, angling my body so he could see the vines created by the mother. “Any change?” I’d looked at them several times a day since she’d impaled my torso with her monster-sized serpent fangs, and so far, so good.

He reached out, brushing my skin with his fingertips, and I barely suppressed my shiver.

“I don’t think so,” he said, studying them intently.