“They gave me this before they left to set up the bombs. ‘Just in case.’ Just in case something happened.” He laughed, a lost, wild laugh, and Archie’s brow furrowed further.
“’Oundstooth,” she murmured. “I ’ave to tell you something. I should ’ave told you before, but—” She took a deep breath, then rushed through her excuse. “But you ’ave spent so many years hating Calhoun, and when ’e died, it seemed like maybe you would be able to let this go. Like maybe you would be able to stop chasing revenge.”
Houndstooth looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “You sounded like Adelia for a moment there.”
“If you’re determined to go through with this, I’ll be with you. You know that I wouldn’t let you do this alone. But we might not both make it out of ’ere, so I ’ave to tell you before we set out.” She looked at Houndstooth as though hoping he’d interrupt, but he simply watched her with terrible patience. She took another deep breath, steeling herself. “Cal—right before ’e died, ’e said that ’e had betrayed you for Travers. I think . . . Winslow, friend. I think Travers put ’im up to it. Travers is the reason your ranch burned down.”
Houndstooth stared at Archie, then looked down at the detonator in his hands. He turned it over between his fingers, his jaw working.
“I think I knew that,” he finally said. “I think Adelia—I think she told me.” He shook his head. “Well, I suppose that makes this a little sweeter.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Archie said.
“No, no—I understand. Really.” Archie smiled, relieved; her smile faded when Houndstooth continued, “But I do hope you understand: I’m going to destroy Travers. I’m going to destroy everything he’s built, everything he holds dear. Everything he’s poured his life and his passion and his fortune into. I’m going to burn his world to the ground, and then I’m going to salt the ashes. For what he did to my ranch, and for what happened to Hero.” A shadow seemed to pass across his eyes as a broad, toothsome grin spread across his face. “Oh, yes, Archie. He will suffer.”
Archie’s face was bloodless. “’Oundstooth,” she whispered. “We can’t—”
But what they couldn’t do, she never got to say, because the door to the suite burst open. Gran Carter emerged, covered in his own blood.
Archie screamed. Houndstooth looked at her, more startled than he had been when he saw Carter himself: he had never heard Archie scream before.
“I’m fine,” Carter said, placing his bloody hands on Archie’s shoulders. “I’m fine. Just a lot of little cuts, Archie, just—” He clasped her close to him for a brief moment, then pushed her away, holding her shoulders at arm’s length. “She’s gone. Out the window, into the water. I don’t think she was unconscious after all—the moment I got close enough—” He was backing away as he told them, toward the stairs. “I’m sorry, I have to go, I have to catch her before she—”
“If she’s in the water, the problem is solved, right?” Houndstooth interrupted. “The ferals—”
In the distance, the sound of Zahra and Stasia bellowing cut through the insect noises of the night.
“She’s at the paddock,” Archie said. “The ferals must be feeding at the middle of the lake, they are not ’ere yet. Go, Gran, while it’s safe in the water! Go!” She shoved her hands at him as though to push him away. Houndstooth noted that her eyes had filled with tears.
“Wait!” Houndstooth shouted. “Hero—you promised—”
Carter doubled back and raced past them, emerging with Hero in his arms.
“I’m sorry, Archie! I’ll see you again! I swear it!” Carter shouted as he bounded down the stairs. “I’ll see you again!”
They watched him leave; then, Archie wiped her eyes and looked down at herself. She was covered in Carter’s blood from where he had held her.
“Well,” she said, laughing. “I ’ave forgotten what I was going to say to you, ’oundstooth. About your grief and your fear and about not being in your right mind.” She plucked at her wet, bloody shirt. “I suppose we should get dressed, and then we should start detonating, oui?”
Houndstooth grinned at her. “Let’s blow up the Harriet.”
Chapter 13
ARCHIE AND HOUNDSTOOTH made their way to the hippo paddock in silence as the stars began to wink out. When they arrived at the paddock, Ruby, Rosa, Abigail, and Betsy were already nosing at each other, competing for attention at the dock.
Archie pulled up short.
“’Oundstooth?” She said. “What—ah, what should we do about Abigail and Betsy?”
“We can’t leave them,” he replied. “Hero will want to see Abigail when they wake up.”
“Do you think they’ll follow us, like Stasia and Zahra?”
“If they do, they’ll make a decent rear guard, if any ferals try to sneak up on us. I suppose there’s only one way to find out.” He shrugged. Archie looked at him strangely. “What?”
“Nothing,” she replied. “I’ve just never seen you shrug before. It does not look right on you, ’oundstooth.”
Fortunately, Abigail and Betsy did indeed trail behind Ruby and Rosa as they made their way to the Gate—following the trail of apples that Houndstooth dropped into the water every few minutes. Archie stifled a laugh when she noticed him doing it.
“Where did you get those?” she asked.
“I like to be prepared, Archie,” he replied, his voice dripping with condescension.
“ . . . Did you steal them from my saddlebag?”
Houndstooth took his time before answering. “Hero ate all my pears,” he said in an even tone. Then he snapped the side of Ruby’s harness, and the two of them sped ahead toward the Gate.
*
“So: we open the Gate, we hit the detonator. The ferals flood the Gate while we watch from a safe distance. We close the Gate. Très facile.” Archie had repeated the plan six or seven times on the way over. Every time, she proclaimed how easy it would be to execute.
“Très,” Houndstooth replied, having heard hardly a word of what she’d said. He watched the water as they travelled, but it was still and silent save for the occasional grumbles of the four hippos and their two riders.
And it was très facile. No ferals bothered them as they made their way from the Sturgess Queen to the Gate, though their bellows floated through the still night air like thunder from where they were gathered in the muddy center of the lake.
Archie and Houndstooth reached the Gate without incident. The ranger’s familiar, broad-brimmed hat was silhouetted in the grey light of the early morning. Houndstooth called up to the tower.
“Hello up there! Can you open the Gate?” Houndstooth called. “Official government business.”
The ranger didn’t respond. Houndstooth repeated his request. When he received no response, he looked at Archie. She shrugged.
“Perhaps ’e is asleep? Surely we could go up and wake ’im.”