Page 15 of From the Darkness

The hand on her arm clenched, then opened. “Dinah,” he said softly. “I forgot about Dinah.”

“How could you forget about your own daughter?”

“Is she?”

Lord, what was that supposed to mean? Was he saying the child wasn’t his? Was he saying he wasn’t Troy London?

She dragged a hand through her hair, sweeping it back from her face. Suddenly she felt as if she were an actor who’d been shoved onstage in a play where she’d missed the rehearsals and neglected to memorize her lines. Now she was in the middle of the action, and she had no idea what was expected of her. And in the back of her mind, she couldn’t let go of the feeling that Helen London had orchestrated the whole thing.

She canceled that thought as unfair. Helen had warned her that something bad was going on at Ravencrest. And it was her job to figure out what it was.

Still, the whole situation was overwhelming. She certainly couldn’t answer Troy’s question about Dinah. She didn’t know how to deal with him. Yet she couldn’t simply turn around and go back to her room. Not now.

“Do you know who I am?” she finally asked.

This time he answered more quickly. “I heard you say you were Bree Brennan.”

“You were listening when I arrived?”

“I listen in on what’s happening here.” He stroked his hand up and down her arm. “You were talking to Nola.”

“Yes.”

So, he’d been hiding—eavesdropping on her conversation in the hall. She wasn’t going to press him on that. Instead, now that they were communicating a little better, she went back to his earlier bombshell. “Why did you say Helen was lying?”

“Because she . . wouldn’t call anyone for help. She’s too independent.”

That was a good description of Helen—under ordinary circumstances. But not in this case. Bree sighed, “She’s stuck halfway around the world. And she’s worried about you. So, you’re wrong.”

“You’re Helen’s friend,” he said, sounding as if he wasn’t quite sure.

“Yes, I’m her friend from the George Washington University. I was Bonnie Brennan back then. I changed my name to Bree.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t like the woman I realized I was,” she answered, unwilling to give any more away even as she fought off disappointment.

Didn’t he remember her from the summer of her sophomore year, when they had been so close? At least she’d thought they were. It had been the most memorable few weeks of her life—the most compelling relationship in her entire life. It hurt to think that it had meant far less to him. Yet tonight, there had been a breathtaking intensity between them. That must mean something, surely. Maybe even though he didn’t remember her on a conscious level, he’d been drawn back to her.

He interrupted her thoughts with another pronouncement. “It’s dangerous here. You have to go back.”

“Back to Maryland?”

“Back to your room.”

The firm, decisive delivery chilled her. He’d been holding her hand. He broke the contact, stepping away from her, leaving her standing in the dark.

“Troy!”

“Stay there. Don’t move.” His voice was sharp, commanding, urgent, and she froze.

One of his hands clamped on her shoulder, leading her around a sharp corner. “Look!”

In the next moment, fire flared only a few yards in front of her face, the sudden light so unexpected after the total darkness that she couldn’t focus. Dimly she saw a burning faggot of straw or sticks fly through the air, arching upward before it began to fall—not at her feet, but far, far below.

And she realized with a shock of amazement that she’d been so caught up in the conversation with Troy that she’d forgotten about the pit that she’d almost stumbled into.

The brand crashed onto the rocks, sending sparks flaring upward toward her.

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