The heavenly aroma of fresh-brewed coffee comforted Lucien, who clutched his steaming mug with trembling hands. He took a slow sip. His heart pounded in his ears, echoing over the shouts from his parents arguing in the foyer. Footsteps neared the kitchen where Lucien stood beside the counter, and he faced his mother like a frightened snow-deer caught on the road as she stormed in.

Mrs. Cromwell rounded the corners and trapped her son in. Rage smoldered in her eyes as she pursed her lips in a tight scowl. “Would it have killed you to act like you care that your sister was murdered?”

“What?” Lucien croaked out.

“Your crocodile tears made you look like a fool. Don’t even get me started on how you disrespected your family by hanging around those murderers at Charlotte’s funeral. Gods, do you know how embarrassing that was for me? For your father?”

Lucien shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Words escaped him as he stared into his mug of coffee, unable to continue looking her in the eye.

“Mrs. Pepperheart had the nerve to ask me if the Vales’ put a spell on you.” Mother’s scornful laughter rang out, yet no traces of genuine amusement showed on her face. “It was humiliating enough not to have you with us during the first night of Harvest again, but you and that wicked boy found Charlotte. Are you just naive or really that stupid, Lucien?”

“The Vale’s had nothing to do with her murder,” Lucien said, yet the confidence in his tone wavered. Although he believed that with all of his heart, he knew he wouldn’t be able to convince her.

“Where’s your proof, darling?” Mother’s sharp nails touched his back, resting near the nape of his neck. She towered behind him, suddenly yanking him by the collar of his shirt. “Hmm?”

“I-I don’t have any,” Lucien stammered. “But I’ll find some! I swear, I’ll find Charlotte’s killer.”

His mother released him with a frustrated groan. “Well, you better get to it, Detective. The council’s already looking into their family. Nobody knows death curses quite like the Vale’s, you know.”

Lucien paled. “But they have no evidence, right? They can’t arrest them for her murder.”

Mrs. Cromwell scrutinized her son for a moment, resisting an eye roll. “Some days I swear Nathaniel must’ve dropped you on your head and didn’t tell me.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Sweetie, you need to be realistic here, okay? Isn’t it all suspicious to you? First, the Vale boy walks you home and you discover Charlotte together. It was like they wanted to make sure you found her outside our home and sent their boy to make sure that happened. They have the most knowledge about death curses and even identified the curse used.

“I know you like those people and that peculiar boy is one of the only friends you have, but you need to face the facts. They’re killers. It’s in their nature, in their blood. You have just been a mere pawn they played with. Can you not see that, sweetie? Why do you think they only invite you over to their home? They picked the most innocent, naive person to fool. Of course they expect you to defend them.”

“You’re wrong about them.” Lucien shook his head. “The Vale’s are good people, despite their ancestors’ wrongs. They aren’t them. I’m one of the only people who doesn’t judge them. That’s why they like having me over.”

Mr. Comwell stepped into the kitchen, rubbing at his reddish cheek. He cleared his voice, then made his way over to the fridge for a cold beer. Dark circles clung to his eyes as he downed his drink. “Charlotte shouldn’t have died.” He gripped his bottle tight, gazing over at his only son. “If you’d just stayed with us for Harvest, she never would’ve left to go find you.”

The revelation shook Lucien to his core. “No, why would she go looking for me? Charlotte knew where I was at. I-I told her…”

“Maybe your sister actually wanted you here, with your family.”

“I’m sorry.” Lucien bowed his head in shame. “I didn’t know that Charlotte came looking for me that night. Did she think I was in trouble?”

“You always have to make everything about yourself, don’t you?” Mr. Cromwell grumbled, then chugged more of his beer. “I’m heading upstairs. There’s leftovers in the fridge from the service if you get hungry.” He made his way out of the kitchen, heading toward the spiraling staircase.

“Why do you like the Vale’s house so much, hm?” Mother asked. “Do they have some luxurious items that we don’t? Is it the dark magic embracing their home that thrills you the most? Or do you just fancy their creepy boy?”

Lucien flushed at her inquisition, then shook his head. “They’re just nice people, that’s all. Castor’s my friend.”

Mrs. Cromwell didn’t respond, and instead, turned to head upstairs with her husband. When she was out of sight, Lucien released a shaky breath he’d held in. He sipped his coffee, willing his pounding heartbeat to settle, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what his dad had told him.

Why would Charlotte head out to find him? Was he the reason she was killed?