Before I could reply she greeted Bran with a hearty punch to the shoulder. “Good to see you again, Romeo. How’s your mad bitch of a mum, eh?”
“Phoebe!” Doug cried. “That’s an awful thing to say to the lad.”
Doug reached out, his huge hand engulfing Bran’s finer bones. “Damn good to see you again, man. You look a sight better than you did last I saw you, to be sure.”
I knew the two had met only briefly, when the Dim had violently disgorged Bran and me from its midst. Fortunately for us, it had chosen to take us back where we marginally belonged.
We’d been whisked off to the hospital. Me with a concussion. Bran only half-conscious from an infection that had entered his bloodstream to ravage his body, courtesy of a knife wound inflicted by his own mother.
“Glad this worked out,” Doug said. “I tried everything to open that file you sent last week, but the encryption was too damn good.”
“Last week?” I mouthed the words mostly to myself, certain I’d heard wrong.
I shot a look at Phoebe. She was watching me. But at the look on my face, she quickly ducked her violet head, and began tugging at her thigh-high socks. “Damn things always creeping down.”
I turned to Doug—?who was basically incapable of lying. “Doug?”
“W-well, you see, Hope.” Whisking off gold-framed specs, Doug pinched sweat from between his eyes. “It’s only that—”
“It was me.” Bran jumped to the traitorous pair’s defense. “I swore them to secrecy. But only because I wanted to surprise you.”
“Yeah, well. Mission accomplished, I guess.”
Bran’s grin faded. “We’ve only been conversing a few weeks, you see, and—”
“Wait.” Voice deathly quiet, I held up a hand to stave off the rest of his words. “Did you say weeks?”
Phoebe cast a scathing look upon both boys, moving to my side in a show of girl unity.
“Doug didn’t tell me until last night, Hope. They’ve been keeping their little bromance to themselves, it seems. No one else knew of it.” Hands on hips, she glared at Doug. “And I told you she wouldn’t like it. Hope hates secrets.”
Bran’s brow creased. “You’re angry?”
“Oh, no,” I said. “Not at all. I lo-o-o-ve being left out in the dark. My mom did it to me my whole life. Why should you be any different?”
Maybe I was being petty. Having him here was a wonderful—?no, a stupendously wonderful—?surprise. But I had a feeling our impromptu little reunion was only part of the story.
“If this was all about surprising me, then what’s all this about a file?”
Doug’s face filled with regret. “I’m sorry, Hope. I should’ve told you. I—?I know what it feels like to be excluded, aye?”
We locked eyes, and I realized that of everyone in my new family, Doug was the only person who truly understood what it feels like to be left out in the cold.
Doug’s dad had been one of Mom and Aunt Lucinda’s closest relatives. Which—?leaving aside my bizarre bloodlines—?made him my cousin. When his parents died in a car accident, the seven-year-old had come to live with Lucinda as her ward. Though he survived the tragedy that killed his folks, the head injury he’d sustained carried long-term effects. Doug now suffered from a dangerous case of epilepsy. A few weeks earlier I’d witnessed one of the violent seizures that came upon him suddenly, this time at the dinner table. It had been one of the most terrifying things I’d ever seen. Because of the instability of Doug’s condition, Lucinda had long ago decreed that he’d never be able to travel with the rest of the Viators. Though the brilliant boy accepted his supporting role with an astonishing amount of grace, it had to hurt.
Douglas Carlyle, the smartest person I’d ever known, was the only one of us permanently bound to this time.
It wasn’t fair.
I reached up to pat his broad shoulder. “It’s okay.”
He dipped his head in a nod and I turned back to Bran. “But you,” I said. “Get talking.”
“You’ve no idea how much I’ve yearned to hear you snap at me,” he said, trying—?and failing—?to look contrite. “You see,” he said, “there were some things I needed to work out first. Things I knew Doug was uniquely qualified to help with. Then, once I learned you lot would be coming here, I fabricated a false lead on the Nonius in Inverness. Naturally, Celia didn’t want to send me, but I withheld the pertinent information until she had no choice. After that, it was simply a matter of drugging Flint’s lager—?so that I could slip the leash, so to speak. Then, I, um . . . borrowed a set of keys from the valet station, located a car in the hotel’s long-term parking, and drove like a demon so I could see you.” Slender, elegant hands danced through the air, punctuating the story as he finished. “There’s more, of course. But that is it in a nutshell.”
As he looked down at me, I saw an oddly shy expression peek out from behind the cocksure curve of his mouth. A warmth spread through my chest as I thought to myself, He’s gone to so much trouble. Taken so many risks. He drugged a guy for God’s sake.
Just to see me.
His eyes closed as I rested my palm against his stubbly cheek. “I guess I forgive you,” I told him. “Just this once.”
“Well,” he scoffed as he brushed windblown curls back from my face. “I must say that is a huge relief.”
Bran and I shared a smile. A blaze of heat and tenderness and something else I couldn’t yet name began to flood through me. The rest of the world faded away into a distant thrum. What existed between us had survived through time and space. I thought . . . maybe . . . we could become something extraordinary. Something legendary.
But the thing about legends is that they rarely have a happy ending. Romeo and Juliet? Antony and Cleopatra? The prince of Troy and his Helen? Every one of those fateful couples was doomed, what drew them together burning too hot and too bright to last for very long.
I let my hand drop.
Bran looked at me quizzically. “What?”
“Nothing.” I stepped back, deliberately puncturing the bubble that had pushed the rest of the world away. “You, uh . . . You said there was more you needed to tell us?”
Bran’s gaze searched my face before he nodded, and turned to include Doug and Phoebe.
“Yes,” he said. “Well, back to Phoebe’s initial query about my mother. I’m afraid she’s quite correct. Celia is worse than ever these days. I fear the woman has gone completely off her nut.”
“Why does that scare me more than anything I’ve ever heard?” I muttered.
Bran chuckled, a pallid sound that dissipated as he gestured for the others to come closer.
“Which brings me to the other reason I came,” he said, taking care that his voice wouldn’t carry beyond our small huddle. “Which is to inform you of the newest scheme my dear, demented mater has hatched.”
“Jesus, Mary, and St. Bride,” Phoebe groaned. “What kind of heinous plan does the Mistress of Bloody Darkness have on tap for us today?”
“That,” a gruff voice spoke up, “is something I’d be sore interested in hearing.”
Chapter 6
“CAMERON.”