Booker slid me a sidelong look. He appeared more amused than worried so I allowed myself to relax some.
“Declan didn’t disappear twenty years ago,” Marjory said. “We hunted him. We found him in the woods. He was about to drink from Jareth, which would have resulted in Jareth’s death, so we stunned him.”
I blinked, dumbfounded, but kept eating.
“Those of us who were part of the operation wanted to keep it quiet, so we never told Jareth,” she continued. “We never told anyone.” Her eyes moved to Booker. “Your mother was part of the group.”
Booker looked stunned. “You and my mother worked together?” I didn’t blame him for being dubious.
“We did,” she confirmed. “There were seven of us. May was with us.” She looked at me. “As was Cordelia’s mother, the former siren leader.”
I was starting to sense a pattern. “You covered all of the elements.”
Marjory nodded. “We needed to weave a very strong spell if we were going to trap Declan forever.”
“You shuttled him to the other plane,” Galen realized.
“It was a group effort,” Marjory countered. “Don’t put it all on me.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” I protested. “When Wesley went missing, you could have volunteered this information.”
“I had no idea it was Declan,” she argued. “That’s why I mentioned his name to you. I wanted you to confirm it. I had every intention of telling you if it was important. I needed to make certain first.”
“You’re going to tell us now.” Galen’s voice was icy cold. “What did you do?”
“We didn’t create a plane door,” Marjory replied. “That was not our intention. We created a trap … in the cemetery.”
I frowned.
“I believe, although I need you to confirm it, that our trap turned into a different sort of spell.” Now Marjory looked distinctly uncomfortable. “In fact, I believe this spell has taken on a life of its own. It’s not just about Declan now. It’s about the cemetery itself.”
That’s when the final piece fell into place. “You think the zombies are a result of this spell going haywire,” I realized.
“I can’t be certain.” Marjory looked pained to admit it. “It’s time for you to know the whole truth,” she told Galen.
His fury was palpable, but he tamped it down. “You can tell us the whole story at the cemetery,” he growled. “We were on our way there after breakfast.”
Marjory let loose a long-suffering sigh. “Why else would I be here?”
26
TWENTY-SIX
Galen was angry enough I was at a loss as to how to help him. We walked to the cemetery after breakfast, but he marched ahead of us the whole time, his shoulders rigid.
“Leave him be,” Booker said in a low voice as he fell into step with me. Marjory was behind her son but in front of us, irritated by the situation. She was also resigned to her fate.
“I wasn’t going to do anything obnoxious,” I protested. “I was going to try to comfort him.”
“You can’t comfort him right now,” Booker replied. “He’s trying to talk himself down from a ledge. His mother just proved — for about the millionth time — that she doesn’t have his best interests at heart.”
Marjory stopped walking and turned to glare at us. The look on Booker’s face told me he wasn’t surprised. In fact, he’d said it that way because he knew she was listening.
“I’ve always had my son’s best interests at heart,” she hissed.
“Not really,” Booker replied. “You could have told us about Declan days ago, when Wesley was still missing.”
“I had no reason to believe that Declan was involved. He wasn’t on Wesley’s ranch when we took him.”
