Dead Tempted - BOOK 1 - Pomegranate Seeds

PART THREE - II

The news had reached her by accident. Bronwen had been stood on the first-floor landing outside her bedroom, taking pause at the window to view the crescent moon and its glowing shimmer in the clouds, its true shape obscured by them.

The sound of a weak knocking on the front door made her lean her head over the banister. It was very late to be making a house call.

Even more unusual was that it had not been James who answered it but her father.

"Kenneth is dead," said a man, pushing his way through, before the Baron had a chance to invite him in or send him away.

A hat low over his face meant Bronwen could not see who it was from above and did not want to move from her current position, lest the wood creaked and alerted them to her watching.

"Already?" Donovan said, in a tone that did not portend to caring about the loss of life, more an inconvenience at the timing of it.

The man shrugged off his coat, without waiting for admittance from Donovan.

Bronwen bent down lower but she only caught one word, "...suicide," before the door to her Father's study was closed.

Bronwen considered sneaking up to the door and listening, but decided it was not worth risking being caught and knew that the door was well soundproofed. Besides, she had all the information she needed. Kenneth was dead, by a supposed suicide.

The details did not matter, either way Bronwen knew it was unlikely to have been Kenneth doing it to himself. She would have suspected Josette or Azu but they were still in London, not due back until the morning. Besides, Bronwen doubted they could have arranged for it to look like suicide, even if they had arrived early to do it.

She thought about how Thanatos had reacted when she had implied Kenneth's inclinations and something deep within her made her certain it had been him.

Bronwen couldn't help being pleased that the man was finally gone. She caught herself smiling about the death of another and judged herself for it. That was a downhill slope of evil that she wished to avoid at all costs.

Her soul belonged to her no longer, but she would keep it from being tainted nonetheless.

She had returned to the living a few nights previous; mere moments before a maid had walked in the room.

There had been minimal pain this time. The poison's work had stopped the moment her heart ceased pumping it through her system, and the lingering effects of it hadn't had time to settle in. All she felt was the numbing stiffness of being dead for hours on a hard, cold floor. And of course, the searing pain of her spirit becoming one with her body again.

The maid who opened the door looked shocked to find Bronwen there and apologised with a look that said she wasn't really sure what she was apologising for.

Bronwen excused the maid in a strained voice, trying not to draw attention to the syringe that had killed her, lying like a beacon on the floor. Once the maid had left, Bronwen picked it up carefully and wrapped it in a handkerchief, then made her way to her room.

Once the door was closed, Bronwen checked her bedroom for any sign that Adam might have hidden there. She even checked under the bed and inside her wardrobe, though she was sure he would be long gone by now, thinking he had murdered her. He obviously hadn't gone for help or she would be in a morgue right now, rather than staring at the wrapped syringe in her hand.

Bronwen wasn't sure what to do with it. She certainly couldn't have anyone find it. She had the idea of pulling up one of the floorboards, but dismissed it and stuffed it in the thin decorative box kept on her mantelpiece, turning the key for the first time in years. Then, she put it snugly in one of her mother's hiding spots - a hinged panel on one of the thick bedposts that was hollowed out. It was one of the few places Bronwen was sure only she knew about.