Page 97 of Heir of Uncertain Magic

Hulda folded her arms, cinching her shawl tighter. “That is not an answer.”

Myra nodded. “I’ll have her forward messages to BIKER.”

Hulda’s shoulders slumped. “I might not be with BIKER anymore.”

The smile faded. “You will be. They would be fools not to keep you.” She paused. “If not there, Whimbrel House.”

“It’s not magicked anymore. You know that. It has no need of BIKER.”

She raised a delicate eyebrow. “That is not what I meant.”

Hulda warmed.

Pushing off the tree, Myra said, “Have faith. You’re invaluable to the institution.”

“So are you.”

“So Iwas,” Myra amended. “I’ve laid the stones of a new path and do not have the means to uproot them.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Hulda. For everything.”

She nodded. “It turned out well enough, in the end.”

“But is it the end?” Myra asked. “I won’t read your mind for the answer. I’d rather not know.”

Dropping one end of her shawl, Hulda reached out and touched her friend’s shoulder. “I forgive you, Myra. Truly, I do. And if BIKER needs an agent in the field, well, I expect you to step up.”

The woman paused. Put her cold hand over Hulda’s. “Thank you.” Her attention returned to the hotel. “I need to go.”

Hulda pulled back. “I understand. Be careful. Stay in touch.”

She nodded. “I will try.”

And Myra Haigh vanished into the shadows, as though she’d always been part of them.

It was colder in Cattlecorn than it was in Boston. Merritt tried not to let that get to him.

Because after being imprisoned, running from the law, and confronting Baillie ... after having all that pent upsomethingburst out of him on the island, before he could have a future with Hulda ... he knew what he had to do. What heneededto do. So he was going to do it.

He was still scared. He wouldn’t lie to himself and pretend otherwise. But it was time to either turn the page or close the book for good.

He didn’t want to be angry anymore.

Merritt hadn’t told Fletcher he was coming. This felt like something he needed to do on his own, though Hulda had again offered to come. Besides, with BIKER and LIKER in somewhat dire straits, it was better for her to stay behind and sort through everything with Walker. Start the audit anew, without Baillie’s influence or the need for secrecy. Piece together that fundamental part of her life, while he pieced together the ruins of his past.

Though, in the end, Merritt hadn’t come alone.

He knocked on the entrance to the constabulary before letting himself in; it was late enough in the morning for Sutcliffe to be around. And he was, at the same table where Merritt had found him on his last trip back. Only this time the man wasn’t expecting him.

“Merritt!” he exclaimed, standing up. He glanced to the door leading into the house, as though worried his wife might walk in and suddenly figure out their connection. “What brings you here?”

“Him.” Merritt gestured to the terrier at his side, and Owein’s tail started wagging. “He’s your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-uncle. Give or take.”

Hi!Owein said.

“He says hi,” Merritt related.

Sutcliffe glanced between Merritt and Owein. Froze. “That’s the dog from the penitentiary.”

“Yes, and no. Physically, he’s a dog, yes, but one of your progenitors lives inside that body. He’s getting rather good at spelling.” Reaching into his bag, Merritt pulled out Owein’s letterboard and set it on the ground. “I’ll be back shortly.”

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