The King's War

24. The Bullet

"Trap her?" I questioned.

Abel smirked. "The Levesques are no ordinary coven."

You don't say. Monique and Elise still sat in one spot, unmoving, unblinking.

"Our combined power can rival hers. We are simply more discreet in our display of it," Madame said curtly.

"Once the witch is in Madame's circle, she wouldn't be able to hurt us. But we'd be able to hurt her," Abel elaborated.

The conversation around me devolved into details for how to deal with the South after Daphne's demise — what to do with the Sinclair family, the best way to conduct a peaceful takeover — topics I had no interest in. My thoughts were preoccupied with Daphne.

Could it really be as simple as that? I could have probably gathered some witches to do it myself if I'd known it was possible. It would require more than a single coven for someone of Daphne's power, but still.

Then there were the rebels. Daphne's death would discourage them, but not remove them. They'd scuttle back into the darkness and reappear when it was safe, like roaches. If only I had a definitive lead — one single name that I could then use to draw out others. Suspicions weren't enough, I needed proof. But how to obtain it?

Several seats ahead, Madame Levesque nodded along to something Abel's general was saying. An idea began to formulate in my head. It was a long shot given my standing in present company, but if it worked, the rebellion would be finished.

When the meeting drew to a close, I didn't stick around to exchange pleasantries with Abel — I went straight to Madame Levesque. I caught up with the three witches right as they were heading down the white-tiled hallway leading to the elevator.

"What is it you want?" Madame asked impatiently when she noticed my approach. Her daughters stopped in their tracks, their expressions eerily blank as before.

I let the lack of honorific slide seeing as I was about to ask for a favor. "I'm currently in need of a witch's services. Would it be too much trouble for you to perform a small spell?" Madame Levesque raised her chin and looked me over skeptically, saying nothing. I took that as a cue to explain. "I have an item I'd like to find the owner of."

"And what is this item?" she asked flatly.

"A bullet." Well, the shattered remains of a bullet, but still.

Madame Levesque narrowed her eyes. "Are the police in your country so incompetent that you need a witch's help?"

"If I could use traditional means, I would not be asking," I said. "I do not mean to impose, especially since we've just met, but this is extremely important."

She leveled me with a skeptical look. "Do you have it with you?"

I blinked in surprise. Did she mean to do the spell now? "No, but I can have it sent over as soon as possible."

"No need," she replied with a condescending huff. Then she grabbed me by the arm.

My first instinct was to shrug her off in alarm, but then I remembered the little ritual Sabine performed with Mrs. Brandon when we were trying to send Daphne Sinclair that letter. It seemed so long ago now.

Hastily closing my eyes, I did my best to clear my mind of all errant thoughts. I pictured myself walking down the halls of the Investigation offices, deep into the evidence room, where the bullet remnants lay inside of an envelope within a locked file cabinet.

Madame Levesque's power surged from her fingertips, her grip burning hot despite the layers of fabric shielding me. Then her grip loosened. When I opened my eyes, I saw her holding the very envelope I'd been thinking of, and smirking.

"Is this the one?" she asked, and I could tell the question was a formality.

I glanced at the case number written on the envelope and nodded. The bullet fragments were safe within an airtight plastic evidence bag, which Madame opened and proceeded to fish out a shard with her long red nail. Once it was safely in her palm, she handed the bag and the envelope to me.

"I thought you said this was a bullet," she said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"It was," I replied, wincing from the memory. It was difficult to look at something that would have killed me. All the more to be grateful for Avery's intervention.

"Silver," Madame mused. "Clever, those rebels, to use your weaknesses in such a direct way."

I didn't want to ask how she'd guessed. "Can you trace it?"

"Let's see," she said with a small sigh. Clenching the shard in her fist, she closed her eyes, her expression serene.

Her daughters stood idly by, saying nothing. I half-expected them to volunteer to help, not that Madame Levesque seemed to need it. But they didn't even complain about me waylaying their plans, or at the very least look bored. Instead, they were as stiff as dolls. It wasn't natural.

Madame Levesque was clearly more powerful than all of the Sisters of Hecate combined, and I didn't need to guess to know that she didn't come by that sort of power through living a quiet life in the suburbs. No, Madame Levesque was much more like the murderous Daphne Sinclair than she was the quiet Mrs. Brandon. I was willing to bet her daughters' eerie silence had something to do with that.

Madame Leveseque kept her eyes shut. "This bullet has passed through several hands. Which do you wish to know?"

She could tell that much from just a shard? Impressive. "Tell me the most recent. Whoever fired it, if possible." At the very least I'd be able to finally arrest my would-be assassin.

The witch's long eyelashes fluttered as she concentrated on the spell. "I can see him," she muttered. "He's young and full of hatred for your kind."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I didn't need a spell to tell me that. Give me a name."

"Patience," Madame Levesque admonished, frowning. "He knows you, and he's still itching to kill you."

"I'm starting to think you're just making this up," I said, crossing my arms. If I didn't witness her use magic to procure the bullet itself, I'd have thought her a charlatan.

Madame Levesque opened one of her eyes, scowling in distaste. "Way to ruin the mystique." I glared impatiently at her and she sighed. "Fine. The man you're looking for is named Chase Colter. Happy?"

I couldn't tell if I'd stumbled or if the planet itself suddenly tilted on its axis. Chase Colter, the smarmy ex-sniper who worked security for Balthazar at the capitol, Lydia Bell's boyfriend, was the assassin? I'd thought he might have been connected to the rebels in some way, but this? For him to have actually pulled the trigger on that beach... made a disgusting amount of sense.

"This better be the last favor you ask of me," Madame Levesque said.

I was barely listening. All I could think about was that dinner in Albany. The whole time, I'd been laughing to myself about fooling Chase when I'd been the fool all along. I thought I'd scare him into revealing Avery's location, but all I'd done was give him an uproarious story to tell at the rebel water cooler. Marvel at Nathaniel Bryce, the most idiotic king to ever rule. Shame burned within me, coupled with fury.

"Thank you, Madame. I'm quite satisfied," I growled.

As I angrily paced to the elevator, I called my head of security. "Arrest Chase Colter immediately," I barked when the man picked up, and hung up without any explanation.

I may have allowed Chase to slip away once, but I wouldn't be so easy on him this time around.