Page 94 of Crown of Tides and Fury

Did it die out of spite, or was there not enough air? Was there gravity to oxygen? Just how much of it could reach me? It wasn’t as if it would be a straight fall, either.

I forced myself to take a deep breath to ward off the panic headed my way. If I suffocated, I told myself it would serve them both right. Griffon, for leaving me there. Wickham for not moving his ass.

The single chair sat against the outside wall. The table against the front bars, beside the gate. A shiver went through me as I imagined Griffon’s sister, sitting there, calmly drawing one of her fingernails along her neck, then bleeding out fast. The ground was a mix of dirt and sawdust, which at least looked fresh. Or maybe it hid a layer of dried blood underneath.

If I’d wondered just how far Griffon Carew would go to exact revenge for his brother and sister’s deaths, I knew now.

To give my poor abused heart a break, I forced myself to think of something else to pass the time. I’d been left no food, no water, and the only thing on the thin, bare mattress looked like a folded mylar balloon. It was one of those survival blankets you should keep in the trunk of your car—something that reflects your body heat.

I’d been left with no company except for some temperamental torches that went out if I spoke too loud. So I thought of my friends, who would be worried.

Obviously, Griffon had returned me in one piece once upon a time in Dublin, but that was before he knew our band of Fae hunters were responsible for the deaths of his siblings. He’d been gentle with me at the library, but there’d been no quick escape route when Wickham had shown up to save me. If they remembered all of that, they were right to worry.

I tried to come up with some reasonable explanation for Wickham ignoring me, but I couldn’t. Even if the house was on fire, the witch could have collected me in a matter of seconds. He’d argued with me often enough about staying away from Griffon, and yet, he’d all but handed me to him!

Handed me to him…

I closed my eyes and shook my head.He wouldn’t!

The little devil on my shoulder called me a chump.

My mouth was suddenly drier than I could stand, my tongue heavy. I was simply a dumb animal that had gone almost eagerly to the slaughterhouse, wondering when someone would reward me for my gullibility with a drink.

Thinking clearly was difficult when I felt so stupid, but I refused to sit back and watch, to see what other people had planned for me. I had to think. I had to think like Wickham.

The man wanted me to stay away from Griffon, an unknown and unknowing player. He also wanted Fallon back. If he had to choose one over the other, he’d choose Fallon. But why not let me in on the plan? Did he think I’d refuse? Did he not trust my acting skills?

I suddenly remembered the times I’d accidentally given Griffon information—personal information about Wickham having a wife and kids, and just today, when I’d let it slip that Wickham could move throughTime.

Fine. So I couldn’t be trusted with little details, but setting me up as bait without telling me was unforgiveable.

I replayed the events of the last twenty-four hours, looking for clues that he’d planned this. But there was nothing out of the ordinary…except for—

Holy shit!

I felt again the shock of Kitch grabbing me by the back pocket, shaking me, and wishing me luck. I could still feel his fingers sliding along between my pocket and butt cheek before he jostled me, laughing,thinking I was about to lead them to Fallon.

I remembered Persi being pissed and giving Wickham and Kitch dirty looks before stomping away. I’d thought she didn’t like Kitch touching me, but that wouldn’t explain why she’d given that same look to Wickham.

I slid my fingers into my back left pocket, dug to the bottom, and searched the stitching. My fingernail caught on something small and hard, and I dragged it out. Round and black, the tracker was no bigger than an aspirin.

I stared at the little black pill. I’d been there long enough for my “friends” to have located me. Apparently, they still weren’t in a hurry to collect me. I imagined them standing on the inside of the estate wall, listening while I screamed for Wickham, waiting for Griffon to catch me. Pretending to arrive just a few seconds too late…

No. That wasn’t right. Ivy wouldn’t have played along had she known. And Everly would have warned me.

This plan was pure male.

I slid the black pill between my back teeth and bit down hard, then I moved to the bars and flicked it across the dungeon. I might have shot myself in the foot, but I didn’t care. Wickham’s calculations had been wrong. He thought he was dealing with the Lennon I used to be, the one he’d plucked from Idaho and convinced she was important. The one who owed him…everything.

For the opportunity to get his hands on Fallon’s power, he’d taken the chance that I would forgive him for this. He was wrong. I wouldn’t.

35

A Smelly Cheese Of A Day

Ivy and the others waited outside the study doors, demanding an explanation. Wickham didn’t intend to oblige them until he had more information himself.

It had been more than four hours since Griffon had taken Lennon into the sky and turned north. When Kitch had tracked their progress thirty minutes ago, the pair had crossed the Scottish border headed for Edinburgh at over 120 kilometers per hour.

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