“Good. I need to buy some books. Everything Athanasius Kircher ever wrote. First or second editions. Do you think you could send out a few inquiries before the weekend?” Diana studiously avoided Gallowglass’s piercing gaze.
“Athanasius who?” Hamish asked. Gallowglass could hear a pen scratching on paper.
“Kircher.” She spelled it out for him, letter by letter. “You’ll have to go to the rare-book dealers. There must be copies floating around London. I don’t care how much they cost.”
“You sound like Granny,” Gallowglass muttered. That alone was reason for concern.
“If you can’t get me copies by the end of next week, I suppose I’ll have to go to the British Library. But fall term has started, and the rare-book room is bound to be full of witches. I’m sure it would be better if I stayed at home.”
“Could I talk to Matthew?” Hamish said a trifle breathlessly.
“He’s not here.”
“You’re alone?” He sounded shocked.
“Of course not. Gallowglass is with me,” Diana replied.
“And Gallowglass knows about your plan to sit in the public reading rooms of the British Library and read these books by—what’s his name? Athanasius Kircher? Have you gone completely mad? The whole Congregation is looking for you!” Hamish’s voice rose steadily with each sentence.
“I am aware of the Congregation’s interest, Hamish. That’s why I asked you to buy the books,” Diana said mildly.
“Where is Matthew?” Hamish demanded.
“I don’t know.” Diana crossed her fingers when she told the lie.
There was a long silence.
“I’ll meet you at the airport. Let me know when you’re an hour away,” Hamish said.
“That’s not necessary,” she said.
“One hour before you land, call me.” Hamish paused. “And Diana? I don’t know what the hell is going on, but of one thing I’m sure: Matthew loves you. More than his own life.”
“I know,” Diana whispered before she hung up.
Now she’d gone from hopeless to dead-sounding.
The plane turned south and east. The vampire at the controls had overheard the conversation and acted accordingly.
“What is that oaf doing?” Gallowglass growled, shooting to his feet and upsetting the tea tray so that the shortbread biscuits scattered all over the floor. “You cannot head directly for London!” he shouted into the cockpit. “That’s a four-hour flight, and she’s not to be in the air for more than three.”
“Where to, then?” came the pilot’s muffled reply as the plane changed course.
“Put in at Stornoway. It’s a straight shot, and less than three hours. From there it will be an easy jump to London,” Gallowglass replied.
That settled it. Marcus’s ride with Matthew, Jack, Hubbard, and Lobero, no matter how hellish, couldn’t possibly compare to this.
* * *
“It’s beautiful.” Diana held her hair away from her face. It was dawn, and the sun was just rising over the Minch. Gallowglass filled his lungs with the familiar air of home and set about remembering a sight he had often dreamed of: Diana Bishop standing here, on the land of his ancestors.
“Aye.” He turned and marched toward the jet. It was waiting on the taxiway, lights on and ready to depart.
“I’ll be there in a minute.” Diana scanned the horizon. Autumn had painted the hills with umber and golden strokes among the green. The wind carried the witch’s red hair out in a streak that glowed like embers.
Gallowglass wondered what had captured her attention. There was nothing to see but a misguided gray heron, his long, bright yellow legs too insubstantial to hold up the rest of his body.
“Come, Auntie. You’ll freeze to death out here.” Ever since he’d parted with his leather jacket, Gallowglass had worn nothing more than his habitual uniform of T-shirt and torn jeans. He no longer felt the cold, but he remembered how the early-morning air in this part of the world could cut to the bone.
The heron stared at Diana for a moment. He ducked his head up and down, stretching his wings and crying out. The bird took flight, soaring away toward the sea.
“Diana?”
She turned blue-gold eyes in Gallowglass’s direction. His hackles rose. There was something otherworldly in her gaze that made him recall his childhood, and a dark room where his grandfather cast runes and uttered prophecies.
Even after the plane took to the skies, Diana remained fixed on some unseen, distant view. Gallowglass stared out the window and prayed for a strong tailwind.
“Will we ever stop running, do you think?” Her voice startled him.
Gallowglass didn’t know the answer and couldn’t bear to lie to her. He remained silent.
Diana buried her face in her hands.
“There, there.” He rocked her against his chest. “You mustn’t think the worst, Auntie. It’s not like you.”
“I’m just so tired, Gallowglass.”
“With good reason. Between past and present, you’ve had a hell of a year.” Gallowglass tucked her head under his chin. She might be Matthew’s lion, but even lions had to close their eyes and rest occasionally.
“Is that Corra?” Diana’s fingers traced the outlines of the firedrake on his forearm. Gallowglass shivered. “Where does her tail go?”
She lifted his sleeve before he could stop her. Her eyes widened.
“You weren’t meant to see that,” Gallowglass said. He released her and tugged the soft fabric back into place.
“Show me.”
“Auntie, I think it’s best—”
“Show me,” Diana repeated. “Please.”
He grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. His tattoos told a complicated tale, but only a few chapters would be of interest to Matthew’s wife. Diana’s hand went to her mouth.
“Oh, Gallowglass.”
A siren sat on a rock above his heart, her arm extended so that her hand reached over to his left bicep. She held a clutch of cords. The cords snaked down his arm, falling and twisting to become Corra’s sinuous tail, which swirled around his elbow until it met with the firedrake’s body.
The siren had Diana’s face.
“You’re a hard woman to find, but you’re an even harder one to forget.” Gallowglass pulled his shirt back over his head.
“How long?” Diana’s eyes were blue with regret and sympathy.