With trepidation, Lucien took the note and read it. Charles stood behind him, bending to read over his shoulder. The note was on thick expensive paper. A black scrawling hand, unfamiliar to him, clearly not Waverly’s, layered the surface of the note with sinister certainty.
Lucien read the words aloud for Charles to hear. “‘Carriage accidents are a terrible thing, aren’t they?’”
Lucien handed the note to Cedric who pocketed it. “It doesn’t look like Waverly’s handwriting. Are we sure it’s him?”
Cedric shrugged. “Who else would dare to remind me of such a horrific event?”
“If it is the past he’s referring to,” said Lucien, “perhaps the timing here was deliberate.”
Charles walked back around and threw himself into a chair, scowling. “He’s threatened us before, but nothing has come of it
