Page 101 of Crown of Tides and Fury

With the last, there were tears in her voice.

At first, the songs amused him. The fact that she couldn’t sing a note made him laugh himself silly. But the lullabies broke his heart…only because they seemed to be breaking hers.

She changed to Scottish ditties, and he thanked his luck until her slaughter of Loch Lomond made him mourn for his fellow Celts. Mid-sentence, she fell silent, for which he was grateful until he heard footsteps on the stairs above. She’d heard it too.

One set. Archer wouldn’t have made such a ruckus. Wickham wouldn’t have used the stairs. And it was long past the hour for tourists in the castle ruins.

Griffon quietly rushed up the steps, hoping to stop the intruder without Lennon hearing details. Halfway to the top, he ran into his agitated brother.

“Summon him! We have no choice now.” Archer grabbed his shoulder. “We’ll need an army to take on this army.”

He scoffed. “What army?”

“You’ll see.” Archer turned to precede him up the steps, but Griffon stopped him. “Probably a distraction. He’ll come for her now.”

“Then the rat will be in the trap when we come back.”

“No. I need you to stay. Remember the plan. Let her out and make sure she’s above ground before you summon Orion.” He grabbed Archer’s robe and nearly pulled him off his feet. “You promised, brother. You promised.”

Archer finally nodded. “Aye. I promised.”

Satisfied, Griffon stood back and let his brother continue down the stairs. He listened to the steps for a moment before turning to face whatever awaited him above ground.

* * *

Standing atop the enchanted tower,Griffon was able to see in all directions. He’d been certain Archer had exaggerated. He hadn’t.

Night had come while he’d been serenaded by his prisoner. Mist had rolled in and settled on the landscape. Though the gift shop in the distance had closed hours ago, the parking lot was full, and cars lined the road all the way to the bend. Behind him, a handful of small boats had pushed ashore. A forty-footer bobbed nearby. All abandoned. Their passengers now stood in the courtyard between Tantallon and the sea, spread apart and braced for battle. Impossible to count their number as the mist moved from man to man, swirling around knees.

Theirbareknees.

Highlanders. Fifty at least. Maybe twice that. All armed and ready.

The wind exhaled again and blew another wave of mist in from the water. The figures at the front of the castle shifted, began advancing up the slopes of Tantallon like an army risen from the battlefield, eager to fight again.

Could the undead see the enchantment? Or would they bumble around the ruins in vain?

Griffon searched the ground straight below the tower and found a woman dressed in black, a familiar head of red curls, and an angry face looking back at him.

“Persi!” He waved an arm to be sure she’d seen him in the darkness. “I’m coming down!”

She’d seen him. She held up a fist and the army halted.

Griffon climbed between two merlons and unfurled his wings before he stepped off. The sound of a hundred gasps made him chuckle. It wasn’t often he dared show off to an audience, and he didn’t want to miss the chance to set them back on their heels.

He flew a slow circle around the field, then around to the courtyard behind, to be certain everyone had seen him before he dropped to his feet ten paces from the leader of their company.

He bowed deeply, exposing the back of his head in a show of trust. “Persephone.”

“Griffon.” She tightened her grip on her longsword and smiled. “I hope you’ll excuse the late hour, but we had to wait for the tourists to clear.”

“Not at all,” he said pleasantly. “Drop in anytime.” He glanced over her shoulder at Kitchens and half a dozen familiar faces. “Wickham with you?”

She grinned and shook her head. “Wasn’t feeling up to it, I’m afraid. Might be coming down with a cold. He sends his regards.”

He schooled his disappointment and hoped she was lying, hoped Wickham was, at that very moment, discovering he’d been caught. Griffon merely needed to stall until Lennon came out of the archway at his back.

An familiar, intense, dark-haired Highlander came to stand beside Persi. “Where is she?”

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