To the Tomb Buried Deep: A Murder, She Witches Mystery by Kat McGee

Author:Kat McGee [McGee, Kat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Towering Pines Publishing
Published: 2024-11-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The chill that woke me wasn't just from the dying embers in the hearth. It was the kind of cold that seeps into your bones, prodding you that something's amiss. I blinked away the remnants of uneasy dreams, my eyes adjusting to the cabin's murky darkness.

Jed's bedroom, where we women had been forced to bunk like sardines in a magical tin, was eerily quiet. No soft snores, no rustling of blankets, not even Elzadora's customary midnight monologue about the inadequacies of human sleeping arrangements.

"Elzadora?" I whispered.

Silence stretched.

I scooted to the edge of the bed, nearly knocking a stack of Jed's dubious reading material from the nightstand, with Bigfoot's Guide to Wilderness Fashion being the least concerning title. Once I retrieved my quill, the floorboards popped under my feet as I tiptoed to the main room, my day clothes rumpled far more than usual.

Cassius lay sprawled on a pallet near the hearth, his gentle breathing blending with the faint crackle of the dying fire. The sight of him, vulnerable in sleep, sent a flutter through my chest. I pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the alarming absence of our fellow cabin-mates.

"Cold and silence," I muttered, reaching for my trusty yellow quill. "Two things you don't want to wake up to when you're trapped in a cabin with a likely murderer." The quill vibrated faintly in my grasp, as if agreeing with my assessment.

I snagged my scarf and jacket from their hooks noting that some of the other's outwear was also missing.

"Where did everyone go?" I wondered aloud, peering out the frost-rimed window, while shoving my sock-covered feet into my boots. "Midnight snowball fight doesn't seem likely."

The woods beyond the cabin appeared dark and forbidding, with snow reflecting what little moonlight filtered through the clouds. I hesitated at the door, my hand hovering over the latch.

I glanced back at Cassius, his peaceful form illuminated by the dying embers. My foot hovered mid-step toward the hearth, a magnetic pull urging me to wake him. But no, I'd already lost one man I cared about. Besides, this was just a quick peek outside to see what our motley crew of suspects was up to. Nothing more.

Shrugging into my thickest coat, I tugged the hood snug, wincing as a gust of wind rattled the cabin's bones as I shoved my quill into my coat pocket.

The moment I stepped outside, winter's teeth sank into my exposed skin. Snow, piled knee-deep, crunched beneath my boots as I scanned the moonlit landscape.

"Brilliant idea, Octavia," I chided myself. "A midnight Arctic expedition. What could possibly go wrong? Maybe I'll discover a new species of yeti. Or better yet, catch pneumonia."

My breath billowed out in frosty plumes as I noticed the crisscross of footprints near the cabin before vanishing into the woods. Fresh snow was already working to erase them, nature's own cleanup crew.

Kneeling by the nearest set of prints, I traced their uneven depth with a gloved finger. "Someone was in quite the hurry," I mused. "What could

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