Page 13 of Crown of Tides and Fury

I told the devil to take a hike, then ordered an appetizer, the shepard’s pie, and an entire pyramid of profiteroles for myself. Whether or not I’d share was still an unknown. My dinner companions—Everly, Lorraine, Brian and Alwyn—were so engrossed in their own orders they didn’t pay attention to mine.

After a month of confinement, it seemed everyone was sick of everyone else, including those who had been confined to Hope House. I’d never seen Wickham’s sisters apart before, so it said a lot that Loretta chose to go on a quest with Flann for Chinese food instead of joining us. Kitch and Urban took Meral and Reem for steak and promised to accompany them dancing. It was no surprise when Persi declined to join them and chose to tag along with Loretta and Flann instead.

Wickham chose his family over us all.

While we waited for appetizers, Everly asked for details of our month of lighthouses. I started from the beginning of our trip and summed up the first four weeks as a big fat zero--no witches near the first four lighthouses. Then I told them about Fallon and her grandmother, the birthday party, and the meeting in the banquet room at the Sea Witch.

I never confessed about the man in the booth ordering an American coffee, who had probably been Griffon in disguise. I felt like an idiot as it was. I didn’t need to hear it from their mouths.

Our food was all but forgotten when I told them about Griffon’s arrival on the scene and how he’d taken the girl and not come back. They were silent for a long time.

Everly was the first to ask the obvious. “Do you think he’d hurt her?”

I shook my head. Then I explained how Griffon had lured Annag out of the house the next morning. “So at least she has her granny, wherever she is.”

Lorraine reached over to pat my hand. “Tells us all we need to know about the man, doesn’t it?”

Everly agreed. “So that explains why you’re back.”

“Yeah. We’re pretty sure Fallon has Mercail’s power. Nothing else could explain the way the sea behaved. Or maybe she’s just a simple little Muir witch in the making, who has the gift to manipulate water. After all, water doesn’t have anything to do with Hope or Despair, right?”

Lorraine shook her head. “The moon. That’s what they have in common. Moon controls the sea, moon affects moods. I’d bet money Fallon is our Mercail.”

Everly bit her lip for a moment, her perfect brows pinched together. While she worked something out, I eagerly dug into my asparagus appetizer that had just arrived. Eventually, she looked me in the eye. “Forgive me, but I have to ask this. Just how much of our mission did you share with Griffon?”

I shrugged and swallowed. “Like I said before, I told him we were looking for the Fae king’s powers, to keep them from Orion. But I didn’t say anything about what those powers are, who has them, or where we planned to look. He couldn’t have known about Mercail’s gifts from us…unless he’d been listening at the door when we explained it to Annag.”

I took a deep breath and let my shame come out with it. I told them about the man in the booth who’d said he’d takeThe American.“I didn’t tell the others because, when he turned his head, he didn’t look like Griffon at all. Gray at the temples, gray whiskers, and the nose was all wrong. But after the fact, I realize he could have been Griffon in disguise, hanging around, eavesdropping.”

Lorraine picked up a rice ball and looked at it closely, like it was a miniature globe of the world. “So he took her out of spite? Or do you think he wants Mercail’s power for himself?”

I shrugged again, forced another spear into my mouth. The hollandaise sauce was delicious, just as all the food had been that first time at The Ivy, when Griffon had been sitting beside me. It seemed like a million years ago.

A different Griffon. A different me. They’d been perfect for each other.

“Does he want it for himself? That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”

Everly shook her head. “And the two-million-dollar question is how he found you in the first place.”

* * *

Wickham was gonefor two and a half days. One morning, at breakfast, he was just there, at the head of the table, spreading marmalade on his toast like he’d never been away. His clothes were different. Instead of the black on gray on black he’d worn while we’d been stalking lighthouses, his jacket was light leather, almost a mustard yellow. His collared shirt was white with a whimsical yellow stripe that looked like it had been drawn by a shaky hand. Even his jeans were a light shade of blue.

His hair had been trimmed, his face shaved close. He looked five years younger.

On a mannequin, it would all seem summery. But thanks to an even darker tan and his usual intensity, the pale wardrobe only served to make the man himself look darker.

Kitch barged through the doors, shouted, “Good morning”, then stopped in his tracks. After taking in the sight at the end of the table, he barked with laughter while groping for a chair. “Ivy dress ye this mornin’, boss?”

“Family pictures, if ye must know.”

“Family pictures,” I repeated quietly. “Been a long time since I’ve been in one of those.”

Wickham’s attention cut to me. He blinked a few times, then nodded. “That’s it. Family pictures. Everyone in the house. On the veranda at five this evening.”

Persi looked alarmed. “Familypictures?”

“Aye.” Wickham dug into his breakfast with a grin on his face. “Dinnae want to waste this rigout, since I’ll just be wearing it the once.” Then he barked. “Five o’clock! No exemptions!”

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