Page 81 of Scythe & Sparrow
Fuck.
I ignore him. But ignoring Leander is pointless. As soon as it goes to voicemail, he’s hanging up and calling again. And again.And again.
On his sixth attempt, I finally accept the call.
“I do not like being ignored,” he says.
“I gathered,” I grit out in reply.
“Where the fuck are you? The flight boards in fifteen minutes, and you’d better be on it.”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“Dr. Kane—”
“It’s Lark. She was attacked in her apartment and now she’s missing. Lachlan has gone to find her, and I’m following.”
There’s a pause. For a moment, the line goes so quiet I wonder if I’ve lost him. “Where,” he says, not a question, but a demand.
“Portsmouth. I’ve just passed Exit 78A.”
“I’ll call you back. And youwillpick up.”
The line goes dead.
Ten minutes later, my phone rings again, and I accept it right away. “I’ve rebooked your flight. You’ll leave at nine tonight. Youwillkeep me posted on your location and I’ll have my driver pick you up and bring you to the airport. Unless you want Rose’s extracurricular activities handed over to the FBI on a fucking silver platter, youwill notbe late, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” There’s another pause, and though I expect Leander to hang up, he doesn’t. His voice is softer when he says, “As soon as you know the status of Lark, let me know.”
“Leander,” I say.
“What.”
“Conor knows something about this. You’d better get to work.”
Leander hangs up for the final time.
It’s another twenty minutes before I’m finally pulling off the interstate and racing down Woodland Road in Portsmouth. I careen around the corner of a long drive next to a Montague Muffins sign and lurch to a stop in front of the industrial bakery facility, where Lachlan’s car is parked off to the side of the empty lot. The only other vehicles are a fleet of several delivery vans lined up near a loading dock. I’m about to get out of the car when I glance down at the passenger seat.
The tarot cards have been jostled from the stack I made earlier. Three are now faceup, though I don’t know how that could be possible. The first is the knight, riding into battle with his sword drawn. The last is the Four of Swords. I pick up the one in the middle. Death. His polished scythe sweeps above his skeletal head.
A chill races through the backs of my arms. It crawls up my spine. I try to reason this away. Coincidence. Physics. The fallacy of memory. But Iknowsomething is wrong.
I toss the card aside and run to the building.
The main door is unlocked, the foyer dark. I rush past unlit offices, glancing through their open doors for any sign of Rose, calling her name as I go. I get to the end of the corridor and push open the heavy steel door to the factory floor with enough force to send it crashing against the stopper, the sound echoing across the high ceiling and metal trusses.
“Rose,” I call out as I scan the factory. I pass machinery, polished silver tables. The smell of baked muffins lingers in the air as though it’s soaked into the concrete walls. “Rose.”
“She’s here,” Lark says from around a corner, her voice coming from the other side of the wide room, the far side lined with industrial batch ovens. Relief is a flood. They found Lark. She sounds okay. But as quickly as that relief comes, it’s washed away. “Oh my God—”
“Christ Jesus.Fionn, help—”
I round the corner in time to see Lachlan crash to his knees at Rose’s side, Lark following to crouch beside him, her blond hair matted with blood. My heart stops. Rose is lying on the cold concrete. Lachlan takes her head, lifting it from the floor. It lolls in his grasp, as though she doesn’t have the strength to hold it steady on her own. Her eyes lock to mine for just a moment. The light in them seems to dim, and then it goes out.
I close the distance between us.
