CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
We both examine the deceptively kind, grandfatherly face in front of us—a face belonging to someone who’s supposedly dead.
A face belonging to Dr. Hekima.
“But he died,” Pom says, bewildered. “Nessie ate him.”
I shake my head. “Hekima’s an illusionist. He made me and Kain believe we’d seen his death in a way that conveniently left no body to be examined.”
Pom’s pupils morph into red hearts again. “So Valerian isn’t the killer after all?”
I grin at him. “No, but the way Hekima pulled off the crimes is probably the way I said Valerian would’ve. I almost figured it out—I just suspected the wrong illusionist.”
Pom’s ears flap back and forth. “But why did he kill all those people?”
That’s what I have to go in and find out. I point at the clouds swirling over Hekima’
