Reginald gave Mo a sharp nod, which he returned with one of his own. I pushed my panic aside and eyed Mo. He had never told me much about his contact with the Families, much less this particular Family, but Mo knew everyone. He had to in his line of work. I wondered what he had gotten me into—and how I was going to get out of it.
“Keep your cool, answer their questions, and you’ll be fine,” Mo said. “And try not to be too much of a smart-ass, okay, kid? We’ve both got a lot riding on this.”
He plucked my backpack out of my arms, scurried over to the white settee, and took his previous seat there, leaving me standing in the back of the library all by myself like a complete idiot.
“Mo!” I hissed in that too-loud voice again. “Mo! Get back over here—”
Claudia strolled forward and my words died on my lips. Everyone stopped what they were doing to turn in her direction, including me. She had that much of a commanding presence—not to mention the ability to have me executed with a snap of her fingers.
“Now that we’re all here, we should get started.” Her voice was smooth and silky, but it definitely was an order, not a request. “Grant, Felix, thank you. That is all for now. I will call you when we have finished our discussion. In the meantime, please go make the necessary arrangements for our . . . guest.”
The cold, clipped way she said guest made me think about severed tree troll heads showing up in my bed, instead of mints on my pillows. That was exactly the sort of mob hospitality I would expect.
Grant and Felix each gave her a respectful nod, then left the room, shutting the doors behind them. Claudia took a seat in a black armchair in front of the fireplace. The tall, wide, throne-like chair was set back from all the others, in a pool of shadows, with the rest of the seats angled to face it. Oh yes. Claudia Sinclair was definitely the queen here.
Devon took the smaller, matching chair closest to hers. Mo grinned and patted the empty space on the settee. Grumbling under my breath, I went over, sat down next to him, and wished that I hadn’t. The settee was in a sunspot, one so bright I had to squint against the glare, and the white velvet was so slick I had to dig the toes of my ratty sneakers into the black Persian rug to keep from sliding off—
Reginald bent down beside my elbow. I bit back a surprised shriek. Somehow, he had appeared at my side without my even having seen or heard him move. He was either really fast, really quiet, or really good at lurking. Probably all three.
Reginald held out a china cup to me. “Tea, miss?”
“Not unless it has a whole lot of ice and at least a pound of sugar in it.”
He frowned but set the cup aside, then picked up the platter of treats.
“Cucumber sandwich?”
My stomach rumbled. “You got something bigger?”
His frown deepened. “Bigger?”
“Yeah, you know, more substantial? Like a sub or something? With bacon? Because I could down that whole plate of nibbles in, like, five seconds flat.”
If I was going to be questioned, or whatever this was, then I at least wanted to get some free food out of the deal. And those little cucumber things were barely thicker than saltine crackers.
A soft snicker sounded, and I realized that Devon was laughing at me, his eyes crinkling with the first bit of warmth I’d seen him show. My hands curled into fists in my lap. He had no right to laugh at me. None at all. Not after all the hurt he’d caused me.
Reginald didn’t like the snicker, either. He gave Devon an icy look, and Devon’s laugh turned into more of a choking cough.
“As you wish, miss,” Reginald said in a stiff voice, setting down the tray. “I will go see if I can round up . . . a sub.”
He made it sound like I’d asked him to serve dog food to the Queen of England. But he bowed to Claudia and strode out of the library, closing the door behind him.
That left me alone with Devon, Claudia, and Mo. Everything was quiet except for the faint tick-tick-tick of a crystal clock on the fireplace mantel. It sounded eerily similar to the grandfather clocks I’d heard in the pawnshop after the attack. Only this time, the seconds were counting down to whatever decision Claudia Sinclair might make about me.
“So,” Claudia said, her voice seeming to float out of the shadowy depths of her chair. “You are the girl who saved my son. Lila Merriweather.”
Mo dug his elbow into my side, his not-so-subtle way of telling me to answer her.
“Yeah, that’s me. The one and only.”
“And tell me, exactly how did you manage to do that?” she asked.
“I took out two guys.”
“You really expect me to believe that you killed two grown men, all by yourself? A seventeen-year-old girl with only a Talent for sight?”
I glanced at Mo. Looked as if he’d told her more than I thought, if he’d mentioned my magic. But he hadn’t told her everything; otherwise, this conversation would be going in a very different direction. Still, the last of my panic vanished. My most important secrets were still safe.
Mo dug his elbow into my side again, encouraging me to keep talking.
I shrugged. “They’re not the first ones I’ve killed. I doubt they’ll be the last. Cloudburst Falls might be the most magical place in America, but it’s also one of the most dangerous. Especially after dark. Unlike you and your son, I don’t have the luxury of hiding behind Family money and mansion walls, or of having other people do my dirty work for me.”
Mo sucked in a breath at my rude, snarky tone, but I didn’t care. I’d been approached by strange men, driven up the mountain, and dragged in front of the head of a Family, and I still had no idea what was going on and what the Sinclairs wanted with me.
All I wanted was to get out of here, get away from this place and these people who reminded me so much of what I’d lost—my mom.
And what I could still lose—my freedom.
But Claudia kept staring at me, expecting an answer, so I decided to play nice . . . for now.
“You don’t believe me, ask Mo. He can vouch for me.”