“Ready to get back to our time?” he asked.
“More ready every second.” I searched the Hound for any sight of the woman we sought.
Though there were quite a few people there, none of them were Evangeline. There were two living dogs by the fire, however, and I gasped.
“The ghost dogs are alive,” I whispered.
Grey nodded. “It’s called The Hound at this point, I believe. But when the dogs pass, they’ll stay on, and the bar’s name will change.”
I loved the idea of it.
But there was no time to dawdle. I looked toward the bar, unable to help the slight disappointment at the sight of the unfamiliar person there. It was silly. Of course Mac and Quinn weren’t working, no matter how similar the place looked. I was just longing for something certain and familiar.
Quickly, I strode to the bar, giving all the patrons one last look. They wore the usual attire of the period, which was the only thing different about the Hound, and I still didn't recognize anyone.
I could feel the bartender’s gaze on me as we approached, and I stopped in front of him and smiled. He was a burly man with a beard and beady eyes—nowhere near as charming or handsome as Quinn.
He gripped the rag in his hand and asked. “What can I get you?”
“I’m looking for a woman,” I said.
“Don’t snitch on my customers, I don’t.” His eyes flashed.
Grey joined me, catching the man’s gaze. His voice vibrated with power as he spoke. “You will help us find the woman we seek.”
The man grimaced briefly, but his eyes fogged with the power of Grey’s gift. He nodded jerkily.
“She looks like me,” I said. “And she should be here.”
The man hissed out a breath, then spoke. “Aye, you look familiar. And there was a lady here. Stayed three nights in the room upstairs, along with her babe.”
Was? “Where is she now?”
“Left only ten minutes ago,” he said. “Said she was making a new life for herself in the country.”
In the country was a massive place. Pretty much everything except London.
“Where?” I asked.
“Dunno. But logic says she’d be trying to get a ride with Old Robert and his carriage service.”
I looked between him and Grey. “Where does that depart from?”
Grey’s brow furrowed slightly as he tried to remember, and the bartender beat him to it. “From the main market in Covent Garden.”
I turned to Grey. It wouldn’t be the market I knew—that had been built after 1642. “Do you know where that is?”
“I should, yes.” He looked at the man. “You’ll forget you saw us or helped us.”
The man nodded, his shoulders relaxing as if he were pleased to be rid of us. I whirled around and headed for the door, pushing my way out into London.
The stench was the first thing to hit me, making my eyes water. “Holy hell, this is terrible.”
“Human London.”
The smell came from all around—sewage, slop, horses. The animals clomped their way through the street, their carriage wheels rattling over the cobblestones. People pushed their way along with the crowd, and we joined the crush.
Hitching up my skirt, I ran full out, my lungs burning and elbows flying as I shoved my way through the crowd. Grey stuck close to my side, leading the way as we raced toward the main market.
“We’re nearly there,” he said after a few minutes.
Panting, I prayed we weren't too late. I could track her, but if we lost her in London, it might take far too much time.
“That’s it, up ahead.” Grey pointed to a collection of buildings and stalls arranged around a square. Dozens of carriages sat out front, their horses tied off to posts.
I searched the space, desperate to find Evangeline. As if fate had heard my prayers, my gaze landed on a woman. I could only see her simple dress and the back of her head, but it was her. A golden light glowed around her, glittering and bright.
Just like Seraphia had said.
No one else could see it, or they’d be staring at her. But I could. Because the book was leading me to her. She was the one I was meant to find.
Evangeline.
I ran toward her, cutting through the crowd. I was nearly to her when I shouted, “Evangeline!”
She stiffened but didn't turn.
I ran to her, darting around to stand in front of her. She did look just like me. It was eerie. Same golden hair, eyes, bone structure. The baby in her arms slept silently.
Her brow furrowed as her face searched mine. “Who are you?”
“Carrow Burton.” The name would mean nothing to her.
“Why do you look like me?”
“Long story.” My mind raced. Where did I start?
Grey came to stand beside me, and her eyes darted to him, widening. “I know you.”
Grey bowed slightly. “We haven’t been formally introduced, but I am Grey.”
He didn’t use his title, which was rare. I’d never heard him referred to as anything other than the Devil of Darkvale, and he certainly had never asked my friends to call him Grey.
But technically, this woman was my family. It was the only logical reason we looked alike.
“What do you want with me?” The woman’s eyes glanced warily to the carriages. She clearly wanted to make a run for it. Had her father erased her memory, too? What did she know?
Anything?
I pulled the book out of my pocket and showed her. “Do you recognize this?”
She looked at it blankly for the briefest moment, then recognition flared, and she gasped. She raised a hand to her head, wincing, and managed to keep a grip on her baby with her other arm. Her eyes met mine. “How did you get that?”
“I found it when I found the Shadow Guild tower hidden in Guild City. More than three hundred years from now.”
She began to pant, her breath coming more quickly. She was panicking.
I reached for her arm, trying to steady her, but she stepped back. Concern shot through me. “Are you all right?”
“I will be.” She forced her breathing to calm. “May I touch the book?”
“Sure.” I held it out to her, confused as hell. What was going on with her?
She raised her hand to her lips and pulled her glove off with her teeth, then reached for the book and pressed her fingertips to it. She flinched, her eyes going wide and blurry. Tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she swallowed hard, forcing them to stop. After a few moments, her gaze met mine. “We should speak.”
I looked at Grey. “Is there somewhere private around here?”
He looked around, his height allowing him to see over the crowd. “I believe I see a small garden over there.”
“Is that okay with you?” I asked her.
“Okay?” she asked bemusedly.
“Is it good?” I corrected, remembering that she didn’t understand modern slang.
She nodded, her lips pressed flat into a line.
Grey led us through the crowd, which parted easily for him. The garden was indeed relatively private, tucked back behind a locked iron gate covered in vines. Grey reached for it and yanked, breaking the lock.
“Well, that was easy,” I said.
“No magic protecting it.” He shook his head. “Humans.”