Gatlin helps me out of the SUV, up the steps, and into the house. Every board beneath my feet is worn with a softness that only comes from age. Inside, the white boards turn to gleaming wooden floors and an entryway full of afternoon light. The grandstaircase in front of us leads to a second floor. A small hallway opens up past the entrance.
Gatlin looks at Phaedra. “Where do you want him to stay?”
Her brow furrows. “There’s a downstairs bedroom that might be easier for him. It’s small, though.” She scans me from head to toe, and the lines on her face deepen. “Why don’t you help him to the couch, and I’ll go make up the bed.”
Hawthorne steps into the house with our bags and looks at Gatlin. “Where should I put the bags?”
Gatlin scowls at him. “Why don’t you ask Phaedra? It’s her house.” He guides me to the left, muttering under his breath about elves getting their act together.
I chuckle, and he narrows his eyes at me. “You’re not any better.” He carefully helps me sit on the couch, then leaves me.
He’s not wrong. Phaedra and I need to talk, but I’m too angry to have a civil discussion with her right now. Later. When I can look at things objectively.
My stomach growls,and I slowly peel open my eyes. She was right. The bedroom is small, with only the wrought iron bed I’m lying on and a nightstand. It doesn’t matter. I was completely exhausted when we got here and immediately crashed.
Not wanting to get up, I lie in the dark for a few minutes, listening to the night. Animals or insects, I’m not sure which, sing outside the house, their song harmonious in the quiet evening. Somewhere in the house, I hear Gatlin and Hawthorne talking but can’t make out their words. Forcing myself up, I shuffle over to my bag, pull out a pair of trousers, and slip them on.
Steadily making my way out of the room, I follow the voices and find Gatlin and Hawthorne in the kitchen, sharing a beer.
“That looks good,” I say.
Gatlin jumps up, but I wave him off and slide onto the barstool beside Hawthorne.
Gatlin strides over to the fridge. “Here.” He hands me a beer and a glass, because he knows I find drinking out of the bottle quite uncivilized. Then he returns to the fridge and pulls out a plate. “I’ll heat up dinner for you.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, taking a long drink. Cool, refreshing, and very light. I grimace, and they both laugh. “American beer.”
Hawthorne runs a healing hand over my body, and warmth settles into my bones. “Your magic is slowly returning, and your body is recovering. I wish I could speed it up, but it’s going to take time.”
I flash him a smile of thanks. “Where’s Phaedra?”
Hawthorne’s answering smile disappears. “In her office. Researching the items for Hera’s quest.”
“And wearing herself down in the process,” Gatlin inserts with a frustrated sigh. “For three weeks, she searched for the panel in Greece and Italy, barely eating or sleeping. Since she’s been home, she’s spent every night trying to find answers to this new puzzle. She could really use some help.” His brows lower into one of his signature scowls, but I know he’s not upset with her.
I glance at my watch in surprise. “It’s two a.m. When does she sleep?”
A small, cryptic smile appears on his lips as he looks at the clock. “Should be soon.” He sets the late dinner down in front of me. “Eat. We’ll check on her after.”
Intrigued, I have to fight the urge to shovel food into my mouth. Taking advantage of our time alone, I tell them what happened at Lady Carrington’s manor. “My father was using anold credit card, which I traced to the village near her manor. I went there to confront him but never saw him, only her.”
Something tickles the back of my mind but no matter how hard I focus, I can’t think of what it was. Maybe later, when I’m fully rested, it will come to me. “She looked like she was under a spell. I thought I could use her condition to get some answers out of her. The attack came from behind me. My father is the only one who knew the ring was cursed. It had to be him. The bloody bastard.”
Gatlin leans back against the counter. “Sounds like it. You’re not strong enough to go after him right now, though. So, what’s the plan?”
Hawthorne raises a hand. “I tracked the elf from Harlequin to a flat in London. Mercer was with him. Based on the way they were acting, I think they’re a couple.” He turns toward me. “He’s Osian’s youngest son, Caron.”
Osian’s the councilmember for the elves. I raise an eyebrow. “I’m beginning to wonder if there’s anyone who’s not involved in this.” Hawthorne’s eyes spark with anger as he contemplates the possibility. “I doubt Osian’s involved. He’s too enamored with his position to risk it. Tomorrow, I’ll go have a chat with Caron.”
“After what happened with me, I think Gatlin’s right. At least partially,” I reply with a shake of my head. “There’s nothing we can do to help Mathias until he contacts us, but the rest of us will go nowhere alone. We’ll go together.”
Hawthorne nods. “Let’s give you another day or two to recover, then we can track him down. I have a feeling he might be able to give us a few answers. At the very least, he and Mercer can tell us how Harlequin is involved in this mess.”
I agree, knowing I need time to get to full power before I tackle my father. I look at Gatlin. “What about you and Phaedra?”
He opens his mouth to answer, then suddenly tilts his head. Unexpectedly, a broad smile appears, startling me. Gatlin rarely smiles. “Follow me…quietly.”
Hawthorne and I exchange a glance, then stand to do as he says. He leads us to Phaedra’s office where she’s sitting at her desk, computer in front of her, pen in hand with her head lying on her arm. Lightly snoring.
