Page 12 of Crown of Tides and Fury

Two white, fluffy slippers sat at the ready on the floor. The pink and white blanket was thrown back…as if a little girl had just climbed out of bed.

But I knew, if I checked, those sheets would be ice cold.

5

The Million Dollar Question

Engineering II—what we called the upstairs room at Hope House that had been set aside for popping home—looked so good I burst into tears, sobbing and everything. Kitch gave me a pat on the shoulder and headed out the door. Wickham ignored me altogether. When I turned to Persi, I saw she wasn’t in much better shape than I was.

“At least we’re home,” she said with a sniff, then marched out, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve.

At the bottom of the stairs stood a welcoming committee of one, Urban. He scooped his arms under Persi’s and started dancing her around the foyer. The tune he hummed was less than elegant--something fast and silly. He led her two quick steps to the right, two to the left, tilting her dramatically this way and that.

I stopped halfway down the steps and laughed. “At least someone’s happy to see us.”

He glanced up at me and grinned. “I am, ye wee bit o’ trouble. Everly’s been mopin’ for weeks. I doubt ye’ll be able to escape without her again.” He dipped Persi, then released her. “And as far as that goes, I’ll not be locked up with that wee besom a second time. I’d rather take my chances with Orion’s monsters.”

Someone squealed from the direction of the kitchen and didn’t stop squealing as they ran our way. Urban hurried to the wall and pretended to hide behind a braided Benjamin Ficus tree. I laughed, as did Persi. By the time Everly found us, we were hysterical.

She ignored our laughter and pulled the two of us into a group hug. When she finally let us go, she glared at her partially hidden husband. “You’d better hide, Highlander. How long have they been here? And you said nothing? Have you lost your mind?”

Urban picked up the tree, pot and all, and began sidling down the wall. Everly started laughing too but stopped the second Urban looked hopeful. He lowered the pot to the floor and ran.

Alwyn made a stink about not being prepared. “A pair of hours was hardly enough time to shop and cook something appropriate for a celebration dinner.”

“We won’t be celebratin’ anythin’ tonight,” Wickham announced. “A piece will do.”

A piece was Scots-speak for sandwich, which always horrified our gourmet chef. But he cheered up quickly when Wickham announced that he could go shopping in Oxford—at least that afternoon--and that everyone in the household was permitted to leave the premises for the evening.

Dinner was immediately cancelled.

I headed for the girls wing, but Wickham stopped me. “Lennon.”

I braced myself for a let down and turned back.

“I reckon Griffon has his hands full. If ye want to dine out, this would be the night to do it. Still…keep yer eyes open, aye?”

I was so relieved he hadn’t grounded me, I rushed over and threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you!”

He gave me a quick squeeze and stepped back, still sober. “We have much to discuss, but I need…I need a pair of days with my family.”

“What if…” I spoke without thinking.

“What if what?”

“What if Griffon gives her back?”

He shook his head. “Pack a bag, he said. He means to keep them for the time being.” Wickham turned away, then pivoted back, a rare smirk on his face. “I find hope, however, in the fact that our university professor is new to spendin’ time with a five-year-old. The fact that he came back to abduct a babysitter tells me he willnae last.”

* * *

The Ivy wasmy restaurant of choice for three reasons. First, I’d been craving that cream puff pyramid every time my stomach emptied, which was often when traveling with men. They liked to eat two huge meals a day instead of three. And since snacks didn’t seem to be much of a thing for Wickham and Kitch, Persi and I often snuck off for a nibble when we could, and starved when we couldn’t.

Second, there weren’t many children at the fancy restaurant, and only a few Oxford students who could afford the menu. Students would just remind me of Griffon, and children would remind me that there was a frightened little girl out there somewhere for whom I felt both responsible and powerless to help.

I had finally concluded that Griffon wouldn’t hurt Fallon for the simple fact that I could have never fallen in love with a man who could.

A little devil on my shoulder argued that I hadn’t fallen in love with a man at all, but with a Fae. And if I was no good at spotting Fae, why would I be any better at judging his character?

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