Which came first: the ritual or the house? Couldn’t be a coincidence that the Edwards house was only a short drive from New Rochelle, though it felt like a long one from Manhattan. Nora knew they weren’t going to arrive at the Edwards place in Scarsdale and find Graham sitting on the terrace, enjoying a cup of tea and watching the sunset. That would have been wonderful, but if that was what they found, Nora would know they’d walked into some kind of trap. Rafe needed Graham, and thanks to his ill-conceived press conference, the guy wasn’t exactly in deep hiding.
Still, she’d hoped they’d arrive to find Rafe handling this discreetly. Maybe a few assassins in tow, but nothing more. Instead, they were barely past the gate when they saw fighting. And the closer they drew, the worse it got. Skirmishes were everywhere. Cops versus cops, FBI, guys who looked like gangbangers, and others in paramilitary gear, all mixing it up hand to hand or with weapons at a distance.… She couldn’t tell who were Phonoi assassins and who were defenders. It was like walking onto a combat zone, every step taking them deeper into the chaos as they made their way to the epicenter: the house itself.
They cut through the battleground as best they could, continually moving forward, even when Selene slowed and Nora could tell she was searching for her sister warriors. But there was no time to waste. They dodged knots of men struggling hand to hand, ducked, and dove through gunfire and bounded from cover to cover. Even swift and insubstantial as a shadow, Indigo felt her heart pound in her ears as bullets brushed past her.
Beside her, Selene moved like a striking snake and sliced through enemies that blocked their path before whirling onward. Finally they reached the pool house. A trio of assassins fought a handful of cops near the back doors, but otherwise it was clear.
They crouched behind the poolside cabana as Indigo surveyed the dark house. She could see Selene trying to do the same, but her attention kept shifting to the battle nearby.
“The house seems quiet,” Nora whispered. “But I know better than to trust that.”
Selene nodded, still distracted by the fight, but muttered, “I think the police and the Androktasiai have managed to keep the rabble of Phonoi assassins out so far, to establish and hold a perimeter within the house, but there were only three sisters left strong enough to fight, and if they should fall…”
A scream of agony set Selene wheeling, eyes going wide as she searched for the source, a name on her lips.
“Go,” Nora whispered as they crouched behind the pool house.
Selene shook her head. “My place is with you.”
“No, your place is helping the last of your sisters hold the line until I can locate Graham. I can take to the shadows. I’ll be careful.”
Selene seemed ready to argue. Then the nun who’d screamed gave another shriek of agony and rage.
“Go,” Nora said. “Help her and keep them out.”
Selene couldn’t resist rattling off a string of warnings, even as she was running. Nora drew shadows around her and slipped into the house as a wisp of darkness passing through the keyhole.
*
Nora had known that the battles were not confined to the yard and surrounding area—just as she’d known Selene’s time was better spent helping the Androktasiai than guarding Nora’s ass.
There was evidence of earlier fighting, but most of it had moved outside or been resolved in blood and bodies. The remaining skirmishes were small, bitter, and strategically placed: a knot of assassins pressed a single Androktasiai at the formal dining room’s impressive doors, while a few one-on-one fights had developed at the edges, bleeding into another battle at the foot of the grand staircase. Indigo easily avoided most of the small clashes by slipping through the shadows and staying on guard for traps, but any traps—magical or otherwise—most likely had already been set off, judging by the bodies and furniture that had been flung everywhere.
When she reached the main staircase, she saw Selene, back-to-back with another of the slaughter nuns, blades whirling as they feinted, stabbed, and sliced, barring the way against a troop of men in black fatigues—the Phonoi’s top assassins, Nora guessed by their silent and unrelenting push to break through. Indigo saw no sign of the remaining Androktasiai, but assumed she, too, was holding the perimeter elsewhere, buying time to find Graham Edwards.
That these battles continued and that combatants seemed to be still trying to make their way to the house suggested Graham was still here. Cowering in a corner? No. If that were the case, the last of the Phonoi would be hunting for him, slipping in under cover of the confusion.
As Indigo slid deeper into the house, the sounds of battle retreated. She could imagine only one reason for the unnatural silence that had settled on the interior: Graham was here and Rafe was stalking him while the Phonoi’s assassins held all help at bay. The troops created a distraction while the puppet master focused on his mission.
Indigo stood in the stillness, listening, letting the shadows spin from her like sonar seeking the shapes of Rafe’s magic. Then she heard it—felt it in the shadow—from the second level. A single cry of “No!” cut short, that beat on her shadow-attuned ears as sharp as the sound of breaking glass.
Up the stairs into the silence again. Then a voice, a whisper, words she couldn’t catch. She followed the sibilant sounds to a closed door. A thick wooden door. Nora reached for the knob, but hesitated and bent to listen at the old-fashioned keyhole first.
“You don’t dare kill me,” Graham Edwards was saying. “You want that damned pendant, and I’m the only person who can touch it—Charlotte made sure of that. While I’d love to think she was protecting me, we both know better. She trusted me—she may have been sleeping with you for the power, but she didn’t trust you. And she was right not to. I’ll never give the Wings to you, for my children’s sake.”
Indigo remembered how the pendant had seemed to draw her to touch it, so it was possible that Graham was only partially right; only someone already bound to the pendant would be able to handle it, but that small group must include her, too. She wondered if Rafe knew that.
Graham continued, snarling defiance, “You can go fuck yourself, Rafe. I’m done with this shit. Do whatever you want to me, but I’m not helping you with that damned ritual.”
“Graham … always with the manly posturing.” Rafe sighed. “For your children’s sake, you will help me. You will choose one child to live … or they’ll both die in front of you.”
“No. You won’t do that.” Graham’s voice was quivering. “You need me. You need the pendant. And you need my kids and I won’t give one up to save the other. You’ll leave them both alone. How can you think I would choose—?”
“Then I will. Or, how about this? I’ll grant you a boon—a salve to conscience—in return for your cooperation. You choose, but as far as anyone else will ever know, I did. That way, you can keep your favorite while pretending you had no say in the matter. Fair?”
“Fair?” Graham sputtered. “You’re asking me to give up one of my children.”
“No, no. I’m not asking. I’m demanding. One or both. You choose. I don’t need both, but I’ll take them, if you leave me no other choice.”
“And then what? You expect that I’ll do as you say once they’re dead?”