There was just one piece that didn’t fit. I stopped in front of the barn doors, frowning in thought.
If the creature hunting Nightmares truly was my parents’ murderer, why would he leave me and Damon? Why not take us, or kill us?
But… could it also be a coincidence that Belanor had only come once the binding spell was gone? Maybe the killer had intended to claim us that night. Maybe he’d deemed me and Damon useless once he’d evaluated our power. Maybe the monster I’d seen hadn’t been a dream or a jumbled memory…
Too many maybes and not enough certainties. Frustration simmered in my veins as I realized, yet again, that I had no way of getting answers. Or, I had, but he’d just driven away somewhere in Florida, never to be found.
At that moment, I comprehended that I’d been standing in the cold all this time, just glaring at nothing while I speculated. I must’ve made a sound, because Finn’s ears perked and he looked back at me. He’d been on his way to the garage, where he often began the transition back to his human shape. He had taken to washing the gore down the big drain, since leaving it in the forest tended to attract other predators, Fallen or otherwise. Thanks to Emma, there would also be a fresh set of clothing waiting for him.
All of that would have to wait, though. Finn came to a complete stop, and his nostrils flared. He looked at me with silent expectation.
We might have to talk about leaving Granby, I thought slowly. The words traveled down the bond between us, which I had begun picturing as a glowing thread in my mind. I couldn’t bring myself to speak out loud, not when we didn’t know who was listening.
As long as I was here, the others weren’t safe.
I couldn’t deny it anymore, despite how fiercely I’d been trying. I could go back to wearing the goblin ring, but it wouldn’t be hard for any spies to connect the dots. Once they figured out who the bland-faced stranger was, they would do everything possible to complete the spell. It wouldn’t take much, either. Even if Damon was too weak for their purposes, as Belanor had claimed, my brother could still be used against me… along with everyone else who had become our family.
And if Matthew did turn out to be a Nightmare, what then? Leaving them wouldn’t be enough. Damon and the others needed to move, too. No one was safe.
I tried to think of another way. I looked up at the barn, thinking of how important it had become to me. Not just the loft, but the house and the woods around them, too. This was where I’d found a family. This was where I’d shattered, then put myself back together. It was… home.
Maybe I’m being too paranoid, I thought desperately. During my time as the Unseelie Queen, I had done everything in my power to keep this place secret. There were probably some Guardians who knew, but they weren’t the gossiping sort. It wasn’t even in the Granby records, since the barn was in Collith’s name and we’d been living in Cyrus’s house these past few weeks.
The problem was that Belanor had known. He’d probably passed my location on to his master the moment he confirmed I was here. I felt myself deflate as the hope left my body.
Even in the unlikely event that Belanor hadn’t told anyone, we couldn’t stay here. Any of us. My enemy, whoever he was, had access to witches. One of them would be doing a location spell soon, if they hadn’t already.
There would be no time for living, I admitted to myself. We were still in survival mode.
I took a shuddering breath, preparing myself for everything that lay ahead. Telling our family why we needed to go into hiding. Packing whatever would fit in our cars. Finding a new place to live. Erasing our tracks.
I’m scared, Finn.
The thought slipped out of my head, an unintentional truth. The werewolf’s eyes softened—he knew. Of course he knew. Not only could he sense it with his nose and his ears, but he could feel it, too.
“Do you think it would be okay if we left tomorrow?” I asked quietly. “Leave tomorrow, and give ourselves one more night here. Just one more.”
Finn’s gaze shifted, roaming toward the horizon to the south, and in that moment the werewolf told an unintentional truth of his own. Flitting down the bond like a piece of paper on a gust of wind, I saw a mental image. It was Amy’s face. I moved further down the thread connecting us, imagining myself holding onto it with both hands. More of Finn’s thoughts came toward me.
After a moment, I discovered that he hadn’t just been watching Amy through the window at Bea’s—he’d been following her, too. I could feel his intentions, and they were as pure as they would’ve been with his own daughter. But the werewolf’s protectiveness had turned into obsession. On the rare occasions Finn wasn’t here, or at my side, he sought Amy. He stayed hidden, wearing his other form at all times as he slept beneath her bedroom window or outside her classroom at school.
Oh, Finn, I thought, my heart breaking for him all over again. I didn’t tell him that Amy wasn’t Katie—he already knew that. She had just become a temporary reprieve for the pain. A way for him to pretend he’d managed to save his little girl.
Leaving would be good in more ways than one.
Our eyes met in silent agreement. We turned away from each other, Finn to transition in the garage, me to go upstairs and greet whoever was home. Maybe Nym would be up for a game of checkers while I waited for Damon.
But when I reached the loft, it appeared that Emma was the only one here. Here in the open, at least. I could hear music coming from Nym’s room. He’d been going through a phase where he was obsessed with ’90s hits. The door was shut, which had become a signal, of sorts. On the days Nym was partially coherent, he left it cracked open.
“Were you working at Bea’s today?” Emma asked from her place in front of the stove. She was making several grilled cheese sandwiches, a sure sign that she’d been smoking today. The smell of melted cheddar filled the air.
I slid onto one of the barstools and shook my head. “No. I went to see someone.”
Emma’s arm moved, and when she turned, she was holding a plate in her hand. She set it down in front of me and raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Did you learn anything?”
I’d already picked up the sandwich and taken a huge bite. At Emma’s question, it felt like the bread got stuck halfway down my throat. I swallowed, buying myself a few seconds to mentally rehearse. I’d have to talk to Emma about leaving sooner or later, and if I did it now, she could help me when I told the others.
Before I could say a word, though, someone was pounding on the door. Someone was screaming. I heard my name, but the rest of it was intelligible, the air swollen with fear. Dropping the grilled cheese with a clatter, I rushed across the room. Emma was close behind me. I wrenched the door open and glared at the necromancer trembling in our stairwell.
“Savannah, what in the hell are you—”
She shoved past me, diving into the loft before I could stop her. A torrent of words left her mouth as she bolted for the kitchen. “I didn’t know where else to go. She came to the Unseelie Court looking for me, and the fae weren’t willing to die for my sake, so I ran. Stop her. Stop her, Fortuna!”
“Stop who?” I demanded, following her.
“The Witch Killer!” Savannah wailed, sliding down until she was squatting, her spine pressed against the corner cupboard. That was when I realized she’d reverted back to the weeping, half-mad creature who had once screamed at me in the throne room. If Savannah were in her right mind, she wouldn’t have come here and put Matthew’s life at risk.