“No, but we don’t have time for Munroe to develop enough of a crush on you that she just hands over a key, unless you’re going to defile her by tonight.”
“If I must,” he said with a brief flicker of a smile.
She smacked his arm. “Tobias!”
She was probably right that they didn’t have a lot of time. He’d seen what happened to Eden when she was imprisoned too long—the shadows under her eyes, her mouth a tight line, the skeletal limbs.
Glancing back up at Fiona, his hand froze for a moment in the air as he was caught by the impulse to brush a curl out of her eyes. No matter what he said, she was going to plunge into some ill-conceived plan. And with Jack coming for her, he needed to stay by her side. “I’ll help you, if we do things cautiously. Let’s start by finding out what’s in the holding cell. Just the two of us.”
She chewed her lip. “That’s a start, at least. We’ll find her, right? I mean, we defeated the bone wardens. We can take on a housewife and her psychiatrist.” She swatted away a mosquito. “I’m going to send Byron to spy on Mrs. Ranulf and find out where she keeps her keys.”
He touched her chin, lifting it a little. “You need to sleep when you can.”
She ignored his comment. “I’ll find you again when I know about the keys.” She rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment, leaning into him, and then turned back to the house.
He watched her walk away and then leaned down, plucking a dandelion puff from the ground. The plant’s jagged leaves gave it its name, dent de lion—lion’s tooth. But the Tatters called them clock weeds. Children said that if you stood in the long afternoon shadows and blew the white fluff, the floating seeds would drag you back in time. It didn’t feel like you needed magic to fall back in time here. The spirits from the past were all around, clamoring for recognition through the overgrown ivy and juneberry bushes.
He puffed on the seeds, scattering them on the thick spring air. He should tell Fiona what he’d done—what he was now. But he didn’t want to. If she knew he’d devoted himself to one of the earthly gods, she would have all the more reason to think that he was just like Jack.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Fiona
Without Mariana in the bedroom, the ticking of the antique clock rang out even louder. Tobias had suggested she sleep, but she couldn’t will it upon herself. For a few moments, curled up in her sheets, she felt herself drifting off, but her excitement at sleep’s approach jolted her awake again.
She opened her eyes, sighed loudly, and flipped over to her other side, stuffing her face into the cotton pillowcase. Something chafed at her mind, something besides Mariana. Maybe Tobias wasn’t working with the Purgators, but he was still hiding something from her. He moved differently now, with a feral grace, and he could stalk around soundlessly.
Still, whatever powers he was summoning, she needed them on her side to find Mariana. And he was right that she needed to rest. She closed her eyes. Imagine something beautiful and relaxing. If all the Harvester madness hadn’t happened, they could have stayed in Boston. They could have spent the summer eating fried fish sandwiches at Sullivan’s on Castle Island, sunbathing on Carson Beach. As she tried to slow her breathing, something tapped on the windowpane.
She sat up, squinting in the dark. Byron fluttered outside, clenching a metallic trinket in his feet. With a half smile, she unlatched the window. “Is that the key to the crypt?” she whispered.
He glided inside, dropping it in Fiona’s lap. “No. This one unlocks the holding cell in the attic. I’m afraid she’s begun wearing the crypt key between her breasts.”
Crap. Well, the holding room would have to do for now. Unless Tobias was going to defile Mrs. Ranulf, too. “Thank you, Byron.” She grasped the key.
“Guards are patrolling the hallway. They all have vials of that red powder.”
“Dammit.” She chewed on the tip of her thumb. “I’m going to fly through Tobias’s window. We’ll have to find a way into the attic from outside.”
“Shall I come with you?”
“Keep an eye on things on the lower levels. Let us know if we need to rush back.”
As Byron flew out, Fiona placed the key on her bed and chanted the transformation spell. Her arm hair rose while she spoke, and then she felt the bone-wrenching jolt of the transformation. She flapped over the bed, darting down to grasp the key, then glided through the open window toward the southern wing of the house. In response to the aura, the crypt creature was already howling, more distantly this time. That should divert the guards’ attention, at least.
It took a few minutes of circling outside windows before she found the room that Tobias shared with Alan. He’d left the window open, and she fluttered into the room, circling over his bed.