Clearly, he believed the Fae’s lie, and my heart broke for him. “Griffon, she’s…she’s dead. I should have told you before—she slit her own throat. She’s gone.”
He shook his head. “Orion can bring her back, but he claims to need Wickham to do it.”
“To raise the dead?” I caught my lips between my teeth, remembering such a resurrection had been done before—79 times before. All those 18thcentury Highlanders, like Urban, had been brought back to life by Soni’s power. “He thinks Wickham has that power?”
“If not, Wickham knows how to find it.”
I shook my head emphatically, trying to convince us both. “It’s lost. He doesn’t know where to look. He lost track of it in the 18thcentury—”
“Wait! Wickham has the power ofTime?” His voice rose with every word. By the end of the sentence, he was outraged.
I was pretty pissed myself for speaking without thinking. Wickham was going to kill me! I tried to cover. “It was lost a long time ago. That’s all I know. Too long to track it down now.”
Griffon’s jaw jumped. He glanced up so briefly, he probably thought he was being sly, but I knew he was checking the sky, to see if there was any cloud cover for an Oxford professor who might want to ditch his car and fly home—with another hostage.
And still, Wickham didn’t come.
No time!
I ran forward and lifted my arms. Instead of embracing him, I shoved his chest while I tucked my heel behind one of his. He stumbled back. While trying to catch his balance, he reached for me, but I ducked low and let his arms pass over my head. When I scurried out and around him, I was careful to stay beyond his reach.
I ran for the road. “Wickham!” I wasn’t far from the estate. If he’d been distracted, hopefully someone would hear me. “Wickham!”
I reached the asphalt and turned right, desperate for the help of strangers, if that’s all I was offered. I was too busy gulping air and willing my muscles to fire to worry about what might be keeping Wickham from coming back. I had to find the gates! But then I realized it would be impossible—I couldn’t even see the walls! Without Wickham, or someone from the team coming for me, I was just another unseeing mortal!
I glanced behind me. The road was empty. I took a second or two to study the edge of the asphalt, searching for some sign that I’d stepped there. A dusty shoeprint. Anything!
I ran at the high stone wall I knew to be there and was repelled before I made contact with anything. If I followed the forcefield, would I find a gap? Or had it sealed itself after the three of us stepped out?
I looked like an idiot—a raptor, testing the fence—throwing myself forward every ten feet, hoping to fall through, wanting desperately to be welcomed back into my world.
Or did I?
I’d been pining for Griffon forever. Now I could have him. I just had to stop fighting.
But no, this wasn’t the Griffon I’d created out of memory and wishes. This guy didn’t want me. He wanted Wickham—so he could have his sister back. He’d paid Oxford tuition for three students just so he could catch one of us and make his bargain. He hadn’t missed me at all.
Even in the library, he hadn’t been looking for me—he’d been looking for information.“Is Wickham Ambition?”He’d been trying to figure out all the players in the game so he could make his play.
And this was his play.
Fallon was a winning chip that could be traded in for a larger winning chip. But how had he figured that out? Annag wouldn’t have told him. She’d have never sold out that precious child. So he had to have learned it from someone else.
From Orion, who’d bugged Alwyn’s jackets?
Griffon had been comparing notes and making deals with Big Bad—the definition of working with the enemy!
“Wickham!” I threw myself at the wall again. When I stumbled back to the road, movement caught my eye. A golden-brown figure headed my way, on foot and bare-chested. His jacket and shirt were a lump beneath his arm.
I glanced at the sky. Thick clouds offered complete concealment. I screamed my frustration and gave way to angry tears. And I ran.
I was on my own, which meant I was doomed, but that didn’t mean I had to make it easy for the enemy. I shot across the road and into the trees that weren’t hiding a forcefield or a stone wall. I hoped the branches tore at him. I hoped he suffered, if only some scratches.
All around me, blossoms and soft leaves, long grass and lush ferns. Where were brambles and poison ivy when I needed them?
“You’re an idiot,” I shouted over my shoulder, just as I entered a short clearing.
Griffon laughed, maybe twenty feet away. “Why?”