Too bad that emotion is fear. It clings to every subject behind his lens. A subtle, elegant hint of terror juxtaposed against seemingly everyday acts. Sitting on a park bench beneath sprawling trees. Strolling over a bridge. Playing a cello. Putting on makeup.
Why am I not surprised?
One photo grabs my attention. I gravitate toward the frame. It’s different than the rest. First, it’s by far the largest, blown up to four times the size of the others. Second, this image has an entire wall to itself. Third, the female is laughing, a hand splayed over her face as if caught unaware. The photo is grainy, diffused with light flares, but it appears she’s sitting near a window at sunset. Light-colored sheets loosely wrap around her graceful shoulders, baring just the hint of her cleavage and hinting at her nakedness.
Only the barest hint of her features are visible beneath her fingers, and yet this image conveys more emotion than all the others combined. Ash-white hair tumbles down the female’s shoulder, reminding me of a raging waterfall, frozen into thick spears of ice.
The barest hint of a tattoo peeks from her shoulders—
My eyes stretch wide as realization takes hold, but before I can blurt out my discovery, Eclipsa flashes her teeth at me in silent warning.
My words burrow back down my throat because, duh, I don’t have a death wish.
Ruby, however, has missed the Lunar assassin’s silent threat, and she cries out, “That starving creature looks just like you, Moon Girl.”
Along with her newfound curves, Ruby has adopted the viewpoint that anyone less than a size six is starving.
Eclipsa growls, swinging her crescent-shaped dagger at poor Ruby. Ruby squeaks and flits out of the way. But her new curves come at the price of being slow, and she barely avoids Eclipsa’s blade.
Before Eclipsa can decorate the bleached white walls in my sprite’s blood, I wedge myself between them, shooing Ruby toward the ceiling.
“We don’t have much time so let’s concentrate on the photos of human girls.” I cast a look at Ruby, who’s pouting high above, before holding Eclipsa’s dark gaze. “Okay?”
“Fine.” Eclipsa plants her hands on her hips and throws a glance behind her. “I recall that the other two walls only feature Fae subjects, but that one might have what we’re looking for.” She lifts one hand up and examines her pristine nails. “The photos on that side are new.”
We find what we’re looking for almost immediately. It shouldn’t still surprise me how different Fae and mortals look, but it does. The girl captured in the photo is the only human featured in the entire gallery. Just like Eclipsa, her image is different from the others. Her back is turned, dark golden hair hanging tangled and unkempt.
Even with her face hidden, I recognize the sadness in her limp shoulders. She sits staring into the gorgeous fountain from the Spring Court gardens, except in this image the blight has yet to ruin the landscape.
Mack’s mouth twists as she examines the image. “She’s surrounded by all that beauty and yet, she looks seconds from drowning herself in the fountain.”
“Hellebore has that effect.” I study the portrait, desperate for any clue that could help us. “She doesn’t look afraid, though. Just . . . deeply sad.”
“Do you recognize her from any of the pictures?” Mack asks.
Both of us have studied the stolen student files of missing girls so many times that we can recite their bios and features in our sleep.
I shake my head in frustration. If we could match the girl to one of the academy students who left abruptly, that would be a link to Evelyn and something firm to go on.
Eclipsa has been strangely quiet.
When I glance her way, I’m surprised to catch metallic silver threads of magic snaking from her fingers into the image. “What are you doing?”
“A scent spell. Hopefully. It’s been a while since I performed one.”
Mack and I exchange confused glances.
I inhale sharply as the magical threads actually enter the photo. They swirl around the haunted figure, moving faster and faster. A bright pop of light illuminates the photo, and then the magic returns to Eclipsa, diving straight into her . . .
Nose.
My confusion turns to full-fledged bewilderment as Eclipsa shuts her eyes and inhales deeply. Her eyelids snap back open.
She hisses. “I’ve smelled this mortal before.”
“You can smell her from her picture?” I clarify.
“What about a scent spell is hard to understand?”
“Fair point.”
Eclipsa glares at the photo with newfound bitterness. “After my tragic mistake of a relationship with Hell, we avoided one another. But there was this one party when I drank too much Faerie wine and decided to remind him of what he was missing.”
“You didn’t erase that from your memory?” Mack bravely teases. She’s definitely letting her guard down around Eclipsa more these days, which is both brave and foolish.
“Erase?” Eclipsa asks, a naughty smile twitching her lips. “For all his many, many faults, sex is not one of them. He does this thing—”
I throw up my hands. “We don’t need details.”
“You sure?” She waggles her eyebrows.
“Positive.”
“Fine. After all the fun was had—and there was a lot”—more eyebrow waggling—“I noticed a noxious female smell clinging to him. A mortal female scent. It seemed odd considering he’s never found your kind even remotely attractive.”
Her nose wrinkles in distaste to drive home the point.
“You think this girl . . .” My focus wanders to the photo again. “But she’s so young. Sixteen, seventeen at the latest.”
“Summer, you know Hellebore. Do you really think he would refrain from claiming what he wanted just because it’s skeevy and morally repulsive?”
Point taken.
A gloating smile brightens Mack’s face. It’s the same grin she has when she knows the answer in class. “Whitehall. She was a shadow at Whitehall.”
“That does make the most sense,” Eclipsa admits.
A sudden rush of hope pours into me. “What if—what if she was his shadow?”
My heart races. I know there are still a lot of what-ifs. First we need to confirm her identity and where she is now. But if she left his old academy under the same mysterious circumstance, and we can trace her to a clinic . . . perhaps we can tie Hellebore to Evelyn.
That plus the Bloodstar flower comment would surely be enough in the council’s eyes to warrant an investigation.
At the very least, it would put my engagement to him in serious jeopardy.
I’ve gone over my contract a billion times. The one line seared into my brain states my engagement to Hellebore can be severed if he is caught in any scandals large enough to risk the Summer Court’s honor.
And nothing says scandal like being caught in a scam involving pregnant mortal students-turned-darkling. I can only imagine the tabloid sensation.
Spring Court Heir involved in missing academy students’ case.
My legs are shaky with adrenaline as we snap pics of the image. If this photo ties him to the pregnant students and clinics, I might not even need to expose his involvement with the Darken to be free of him.
This could be my way out.