Page 77 of Crown of Wings and Whispers

“By any means necessary—”

“He must keep the rest of the Naming Powers away from Ambition—”

“Keepheraway—”

“Or Moire’s prophecy will come to pass.” The four said the last in unison and a chill ran up his spine.

The one in white moved closer and lowered her voice. “One last thing.”

“Aye?”

“Kill the pixies—”

“You cannot trust the Minor Fae—”

“From the throne, Ambition can direct them—”

“He mustn’t kill them.” The one in blue nudged her sisters out of the way and commanded his attention. “Lock them up…inside the house…until the war is over.”

27

The Mice Will Play

Back when Griffon had turned to Wickham to free Lennon from Orion, he’d done so for two reasons. Obviously, he’d been frantic to get back the woman he loved. Secondly, he’d been desperate to get Fallon and Annag to safety. And though the witch leader and his crew might not be much help with the first, they were capable and motivated to keep the child safe.

Whether or not they relieved Fallon of her powers was not his choice to make, but he knew Annag would be relieved. So for her sake, he hoped that was already underway.

In the end, it was lucky they’d had Persi on hand in Moire’s Embrace, to sway the ancients into releasing Orion’s captives. Lennon had been overjoyed, and her joy was worth enlisting a recent enemy. Also, Flann’s ability to speak with her telepathically had instigated her quick escape from the throne room.

In those fraught moments, after sending her with Wickham through the rift, he’d realized it might be best if Orion saw that they didn’t leave together. Griffon had aided the escape of Orion’s enemy and his prey, and no doubt the Pretender had literally placed a price on his head. But at least he wouldn’t automatically expect Griffon to lead him to Lennon.

Thanks to Muddy, Orion wasn’t aware of their relationship—if Muddy had been telling the truth.

If Griffon was lucky, Orion considered the Carew brothers to be nuisances, not his primary enemies. Griffon was happy to leave that moniker to Wickham Muir. Even so, he moved in and out of Fairy a dozen times before heading to Bridie’s house, intent on hiding any trail back to Finland. His last move was to Calais, France, before catching a tail wind and flying to Wales.

The place was quiet when he entered the yard. The same three cars sat at the side of the house. No Christmas guests, then. No birds. No breeze. The stillness unnerved him. Though he didn’t want to, he inhaled deeply, tasting the air for hints of…blood.

None. Thankfully. At least, none outside.

He was torn. Did he announce himself and surprise his family? Or did he tread quietly and surprise the enemy?

He made no noise on the steps. Instead of opening the front door, he moved around to the left side of the house to look in the windows. A decorated Douglas Fir twinkled in the corner. Small and forgotten, a fire sputtered in the hearth, all coals and half-burned wood. But no one sat by, enjoying the warmth.

Bridie always hung three stockings. Always. No stockings over the fire this year. Maybe hanging two would have been painful.

Griffon strode stealthily across the front porch again, around to the dining room window. A tiered platter sat in the center of the table still full of tea cakes. Not a dirty plate in sight. It was Christmas morning. Where was breakfast?

He moved to the kitchen door, almost hoping to find Orion so he could slice and dice him. If anything had happened to Bridie and Archer, the slicing would be slow…

He peeked around the corner, pulled back, looked again. Then he pulled the door open and stepped inside a delicious cloud. “Now, this is quite the Christmas gift.”

Bridie backed away from the open oven door and straightened. “All ye wanted for Christmas was to see me bum in the air?” She closed the oven, launched herself at him, and wrapped her arms around his middle.

“Aye. Just what I wanted.” He sniffed the air. “Goose?”

“It’s Christmas. What else? Though it’s hardly warm yet.” She leaned to the side to look at the door. “Where’s Lennon?”

“Lennon?”

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