He elaborated. “Last night I instructed both her and Custo to protect you at all costs. That you were the key to the wraiths’ destruction. When she kissed that wraith, she was doing what I asked. Her death was not your fault.”
Talia shook her head. “I was going to run away again. I was on my way. If I hadn’t—”
“They would have still attacked Segue. Perhaps more lives would have been lost. Patty died, but you lived to warn us, to save us.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Adam chanced another look at Talia. Her profile was bright against the rush of green outside her window. The woman was intelligent; she wasn’t going to accept simple answers for complicated problems.
“No, it’s not that simple,” he conceded. “But Pat never would’ve wanted to hurt anyone. Take the life she gave you, gave us, and be happy.”
“You’re not happy.”
“My brother is California barbecue. I’m delighted. I’ll mourn Patty when this is all over.”
Adam’s heart twisted. He’d mourn Aunt Pat, and Mom, and Dad. And the nurse and guard who died the first year. And the lab tech from year three. And all those who died today. But not Jacob. Never Jacob—he chose this nightmare, so he could burn.
The mountain road terminated at a four-way intersection. Adam hit the gas; the Diablo sped through the stop, adrenaline coursing through his body like a sweet drug. Talia squealed, bracing herself on the dashboard. Cars honked at him, and he didn’t blame them. The Diablo was a gorgeous piece of craftsmanship.
Adam veered around the Circle K, avoiding Middleton, and hit the highway, a straight two-lane ribbon of asphalt begging for a mad rocket engine and a man crazy (or desperate) enough to use it.
He opened the car up, and the engine sang a sustained high and beautiful note. An aria to speed. Bravo.
The Diablo hit one hundred. One thirty. Mountains rose on either side of the freeway, grasses bordering the concrete, wild with specks of yellow, blurring in his peripheral vision.
The open road stretched before him, and aside from weaving around the much slower occasional cars on the near-empty highway, Adam could think. If Talia hadn’t opened her mouth to scream, all this would be over. The military intervention would have shut Segue down and carted him and his staff off to who knows where for safekeeping, or wraith food.
Unbelievable.
“Talia,” he said, gripping the wheel to hold on to his anger. “I need your mind. Help me make sense of all this.”
“Okay,” she said, tired. Wary.
“Lady Amunsdale talked about the Empty Skin, Jacob, and the fireflies within him, which have to be the”—Adam choked, thinking of his parents—“souls of the people he’s fed on.”
Talia gave a tight nod.
“And we know that without your assistance, Shadowman, Death, cannot reach the wraiths. Your scream somehow frees him, calls him into the world so that he can do his thing. Kill those motherfuckers.”
“Yes.” She looked out the window so he couldn’t see her expression. She was definitely not okay where her father was concerned.
Adam continued, “Something happened, an as-yet-unknown event, resulting in the imprisonment of Death. We’ve seen as much depicted in all that art you discovered. And something gave Jacob that chance to live forever.”
Talia supplied the name in a low voice. “The demon. The Death Collector.”
Adam glanced at her, trying to pull her gaze to him. “You know we have to go after him, right?”
No answer.
“You know there will be no end until the demon is dealt with.”
Silence.
He got to the point. “Eventually, you’ll have to call your father again.”
She leaned her head back on the seat, her eyes closed. Shutting all of this out. Shutting him out.
He wanted her immediate assurance, but something held him back from demanding it. If he pushed her, he was certain that she’d answer in the affirmative. Do what needed to be done. But something between them would be broken. A trust, a connection, an opportunity for something good in his life. He had so few, he couldn’t risk losing this one. Not this one. Not even for the war.
On the outskirts of Dickerson, signs for an outlet mall announced a mind-numbing variety of shops: Mikasa, Osh Kosh, Gap, Motherhood, Saks, and more. Fifteen miles! Ten! Five!
In other circumstances, the prospect of entering an outlet mall would’ve been excruciating. Not today. Adam peered at the grouping of generic buildings. White and crisp, they huddled together for maximum female shopping convenience.
He took the exit and left tire rubber on the road as he peeled into the parking lot. He bypassed the wide, flat lot and rounded the back where a semi’s trailer butted up against a loading dock. He tucked the Diablo at the truck’s side in a square of shadow made by the late-afternoon sun angling behind the trailer’s bulk.
The world went dizzyingly still as he brought the car to a stop.