Page 39 of Crown of Tides and Fury

Kitch’s brows rose and hovered high on his forehead. “Prepared to pay up? To give over what that mad Fae requires? Or prepared to sacrifice the lot of them?”

Wickham held the man’s gaze for a long moment. “Prepared for all of it.”

That thought led to another, and later that night, I called the phone number the sisters shared. They weren’t surprised to hear from me, which gave me even more confidence that they could help.

First, I explained what had happened that day, and before I could even ask my question, Loretta beat me to it.

“You want to know if you’ll see him again.”

“Yes. I just need to, you know, know.”

“Yes, dear.”

I waited, but she didn’t elaborate. “Does that mean yes, you understand? Or yes, I’ll see him again?”

“We feel strongly you’ll see him again. In fact, we’re certain of it.”

I sighed, relieved.

“But we also feel distress.”

“Distress, exactly!”Lorraine shouted in the background.“You will be careful, won’t you?”

I promised I’d be careful and thanked them for their help. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and consoled myself. At least they hadn’t predictedmydeath. That was something, at least.

* * *

A few days later,Alwyn woke us with the bell again. I took a minute to focus my eyes this time, so I could see the clock. If it was before five, I was going back to sleep in protest. It was six. As I stumbled my way to the kitchen, I hoped there were disgusting things for breakfast so I could keep my bad breath—then I would breathe in Wickham’s direction all day.

There was a good hearty spread waiting for us, along with trays. We knew the routine now—when Wickham wanted us up early, we ate in the war room.

I got a whiff of myself when I paused, waiting my turn through the doorway, and I changed my mind about wanting bad breath. I’d have to find another way to make Wickham pay for the hour of sleep he’d stolen.

In the war room, the bully in question stood beside a table wearing a frumpy kilt of bland colors—nothing as pretty as the one Urban usually wore, but in a similar style. A long sword hung at his hip along with a handful of other weapons, leather pouches, and a bull’s horn dangling from a leather strap.

The original tool belt.

“Thank ye for comin’ early,” he said loudly, hoping to shush us right off the bat. “I’d like to get away soon, here, and I have some instructions before I go.”

I noticed Kitch sitting on a bar stool, fully dressed in the same kilt of muted colors, for once, looking the part of a Scotsman. Understanding dawned, finally, but I blamed the early hour. I looked at Wickham again. “You’re going to see the Grandfather, aren’t you?”

The room fell silent.

“I am. I’m taking Kitch, and only Kitch.”

We hurried to our chairs, all ears.

Persi raised her hand. “Given my skills—”

“Nay. But thank ye. If something goes amiss…we’ll need ye here.”

She nodded, but I could see she wasn’t ready to give up. A few rare glances in Kitch’s direction caught me by surprise. Her feelings were showing, but for once, she didn’t seem to care.

Wickham continued. “Unless the rules of physics have changed, we should be able to return here this afternoon, no matter how long we remain in the past. But because I can predict nothing where the Grandfather is concerned, I would ask that ye not worry unless ye reach the week’s end with no sign of us. Then, feel free to assume the worst.

“Work with my sisters in all ye do. They’ll need to travel here, at each new moon, to reinforce the wards, though I prefer they remain at the Edinburgh house as much as possible. With no more popping out ofPlace, ye’ll feel like ye’ve gone back in time yerselves. But ye can still find the Naming Powers, have my sisters help ye contain them, and keep fighting Orion as long as ye’re able.”

He handed out specific assignments to each person in the room. I was the last on the list.

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