we need to remove the fae. It’s that simple.
And how would you propose doing that, since the chaos spell didn’t work?
Ava Mae laughed. Further proof you have no idea how powerful I am. The tree, witch. The tree can do anything you desire.
Giselle’s eyes opened. What do I have to do?
Easy. Offer it a sacrifice, then ask for what you want. The tree will do the rest.
What kind of sacrifice?
Ava Mae answered her question with another one. What is your greatest desire?
To destroy the fae and their Guardian.
And who represents that desire best of all?
Augustine.
NO! Ava Mae’s scream raked pain through Giselle’s body. You will not touch him.
Giselle cringed as she replied, Who then?
Ava Mae paused. Harlow.
Chapter Twenty-one
Harlow entered the house ahead of Augustine and Fenton, calling out for Lally as soon as she was in the kitchen. “Lally? Where are you? We need to go see Queen Jewelia.” She pulled her gloves off and tossed them on the counter. She’d almost progressed to the point that she didn’t need them, but they’d become something of a safety blanket.
Lally came in from the foyer, the serious set of her mouth a sign that all was not right. “We got something else to deal with first.”
Fenton and Augustine walked in behind Harlow. Augustine shucked his coat. “What’s going on?”
Lally looked older than she had when they left. She pointed to the front of the house, her voice solemn and quiet like she was fighting tears. “Detective Grantham is here to see you, Augie.”
Fenton looked at Augustine. Augustine shrugged. “Then let’s go see him.”
“He’s in the library.”
“After you.” Augustine followed Lally, leaving Fenton and Harlow to trail behind. The tension in the house was palpable, causing her stomach to knot.
Grantham wasn’t alone in the library. Two uniformed police officers stood with him. He didn’t look any happier about being there than Lally had. “Robelais, I’m sorry about this, but my hands are tied.”
Augustine stopped short. “Sorry about what?”
Harlow stayed by his side, nerves turning her insides to mush. Something bad was about to happen. The air reeked of it.
Grantham wiped a hand over his mouth. “Augustine Robelais, you’re under arrest for the murder of Robert Pellimento. Anything you say can and will be—”
“What?” Harlow felt like punching something. She stepped in front of Augustine. “The witches killed the senator’s son. The witches killed all of those tourists.”
“—used against you in a court of law.” Grantham had handcuffs out, but the set of his face showed the effort it was taking him to do his job.
“This is preposterous,” Fenton sputtered. “On what grounds is he being charged? On what evidence?”
“Yeah,” Augustine said. “I’d like to know that myself.”
“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.” Grantham reached for Augustine’s arm.
Harlow smacked him away.
The uniformed officers lunged, grabbing her and pulling her to the side. Grantham scowled at them. “Let her go.”
She jerked away from them to grab Grantham’s bare hand. She felt how sorry he was, how angry, how helpless. Then her anger returned. She forced it away and focused on Grantham. She pushed into him the desire to help, her need to protect Augustine making her reckless.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He shook his head slowly. “There’s nothing I can do. This was all the senator’s—”
“Harlow, enough.” Augustine pulled her away by the hem of her tunic. “I appreciate what you’re doing but this clearly isn’t Grantham’s idea.” He looked at the detective. “Is it?”
Grantham blinked like he was clearing his head. “No.” He paused a moment, then looked at the officers. “Wait outside.”
The pair hesitated.
He repeated his command. “Wait outside. There won’t be any more trouble.” He glanced at Augustine and Harlow. “Will there?”
Augustine shook his head. “No.”
Harlow crossed her arms. She wasn’t going that easy. “We’ll see.”
Augustine put his hand on her shoulder. “Harley,” he muttered.
She ground her teeth together and gave the answer she knew Augustine wanted. “Fine. No trouble.”
The officers left. As Lally slid the library doors shut behind them, Harlow turned on Augustine. “Why are you so calm about this?”
He shrugged. “Because you’re not?” He winked at her, infuriating her a little, but that was probably what he was going for. “Because I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”
Grantham exhaled, then shook his head. “It’s not.”
Lally clutched at her throat and muttered a soft prayer.
“What do you mean?” Fenton asked.
Harlow nodded, unable to form words to adequately express what her insides were doing.
Grantham swallowed. “The coroner found a