Luna gasped. “No!” “It’s a no?” #4
“You see,” he continued in a matter-of-fact sort of tone, “if you keep fighting the inevitable, he’s going to fight along with you.
And it will get ugly. I don’t know what he’s told you—spun you some tale about him being an invincible Dark Sorcerer and all that rot, no doubt.
And I’ll grant you, the kid’s got talent.
But honestly, have you seen anything that makes you believe he can stand up against seventeen of the worst Dark Sorcerers the Nocturnus Institute ever churned out?
” He tipped his head toward her, earnestness infusing each word he spoke.
“Because that’s how many of them have gathered in Ballycastle tonight.
I just had it from Calista Anguish herself. ”
“Wh-who’s Calista Anguish?” Luna managed, even as her throat sought to close up tight.
“Oh, right. You wouldn’t know her, would you?” Fabian shrugged. “Nigel’s the one who had a run-in with her, or so I understand. She’s sort of the contact point for the Brotherhood, bit of a sorceress herself.”
“When did Nigel have a run-in with . . . with this woman?”
“Oh, about a month ago I should think. I’m a tad foggy on the details. This was all before I got back from the Phrigidos, you see.”
Luna’s mind spun on its axis, fighting for balance. Nothing made sense anymore, certainly not a word out of this man’s mouth. Oh gods, where was Ward? Why did she let him leave? Gripping handfuls of skirts, she turned at last and even managed to take two quick steps.
“Wait!” Fabian’s sharp voice stopped her short.
Luna turned, looked back at him over her shoulder.
“Please,” he said, rising from the bench.
He looked more like his brother than ever with his face wrinkled up in concern like that.
“If you love him, leave him out of everything that’s coming.
The Brotherhood is here. Now. Tonight. This thing .
. . it’s happening.” He made what was probably meant to be a soothing gesture with one hand.
“And really, it won’t be so bad for you.
I promise. You’re not going to die, you know.
You’ll just be sort of sharing your body.
With your cousin. Third cousin. She’s quite the personality from what I understand.
I’m sure you two gals will get along like gangbusters. ”
Luna’s chest heaved. She couldn’t speak, not even to utter the several foul words that sprang to her tongue.
Instead, with a roughly expelled, “Oh!” she turned and ran into the maze.
The first bend took her to a dead end, however, and she was obliged to retrace her steps, nearly running into Fabian as she went.
“Hey,” he said, reaching out but not quite catching her shoulders. “Consider what I’m saying. For Nigel’s sake.”
With another, “Oh!” she ducked away, choosing a different turn and fleeing for all she was worth, skirts billowing behind her.
She and Ward had not ventured deep into the maze before finding the stone bench, had they?
Yes—there! The exit lay straight ahead. Luna rushed for it and burst out into the stately gardens under the enchanted glow of a hundred suspended thaumatic lights.
Several guests strolling symmetrical pathways nearby shot her disdainful looks down their aristocratic noses.
No doubt, judging by her disheveled hair and heaving bosom, they thought she was fleeing some tryst in the shrubbery.
Luna peered back into the shadows of the maze behind her, but spotted no sign of Fabian Grimm. Perhaps he was merely an apparition? An invention born of her distressed state of mind? It didn’t matter. His words seemed to throb in her ears:
Seventeen Dark Sorcerers.
Gathered in Ballycastle.
Tonight.
Oh, she had to get out. Now. She shouldn’t have delayed, not even one day. Oh Green Mother spare her, how could she have been so damnably foolish?
Her slippers crunching lightly on pale gravel, Luna lifted up her skirts, spun, and took three lunging strides, only to pull up short just before running into a standing figure.
Backing up a pace, she found that she stood face-to-face with the beautiful blonde woman she’d seen earlier inside the Governor’s mansion. The one with the siren-red lips.
“Pardon me,” the woman said silkily, taking Luna in with a sweeping gaze.
“No, I’m sorry, it’s my fault,” Luna murmured and ducked her head, hoping to hasten by.
The woman reached out, however, and touched her arm, an arresting gesture. “Wait a moment, dear child,” she said. “I have to tell you, that gown of yours is positively exquisite. Would you mind telling me the name of your dressmaker?”
Luna gaped at the sight of the woman’s fingers on her bare arm.
She lifted her eyes and found herself caught in a cat-like gaze, deep and intense.
Somehow she knew. She knew this woman was perfectly aware of exactly who had made the dress and how.
And she knew that Luna knew, and there was altogether too much unspoken knowing happening in this seething moment of silence.
Then those siren lips curved in a perfectly venomous smile.
The next moment, however, a young voice spoke behind her. “Miss Talbot?”
“Yes?” Luna squeaked, whirling and pulling out of the blonde woman’s grasp. She looked down into the upturned face of a page boy in a crisp white uniform.
“Your carriage is ready for you, miss,” the boy said.
“Thank you!” Almost panting with relief, Luna bundled up her skirts. She shot the blonde woman a last nervous look.
“Go on,” the woman purred, her cat-eyes narrowing. “Wouldn’t want to keep the horses waiting.”
Without a word, Luna fled the garden.