Page 73 of Veil of Night & Flames

“He’s with Mr. Griffin. They’re coordinating with Hunters all over the globe to figure out how to shore up the keystone.”

He nods, his expression grave. “Yes. I have my scholars researching as well.” He squeezes my hand. “As much as I wish you had come only to see me, I am not so naive.”

“Well, I did come to you first. But I’m here for your library. And actually, you’re not the first one I saw. I had to get past your minion.”

He chuckles. “Ah, that I’d been a fly on the wall.”

“She’s insufferable.”

“Perhaps. But she is also my right arm.”

“Your arm has gangrene,” I mutter.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing,” I say, but I know he heard me.

“Hmm,” he says, but instead of calling me on it, he pulls me closer and claims my mouth. And if he’s trying to make me forget about Kali, he’s doing a damn good job.

There’s nothing careful about this kiss. It’s heat and passion and anything but a simple hello. His hand cups the back of my head, and his arm slides around the small of my back as he gathers me in like a man who’s been counting the hours. I moan, and the kiss goes deeper and hotter, and everything drops away—the castle and the sky, even the reason I came—until there’s just his mouth and his hands and the low sound he makes in his throat when I press close, feeling him hard against me.

I let myself revel in it—this long, sweet, heated moment. Then I plant my hands on his chest and push back just enough to breathe.

“Okay,” I manage. “We have to stop. I have a mission.”

A flicker of amusement dances across his face. “Do you indeed, Ms. Bond? And what mission is that?” he asks, pulling me back in and teasing my neck with his lips.

“A quest.” That gets his attention—he leans back and looks at me, one brow raised. “Seriously,” I say. “It’s a real quest. Tia’s got me searching for books. The kind that probably don’t exist in the Real. I need to scour the library. And,” I add, “I want to see Uncle Finn.”

He nods. “Of course, you do. He is there now. With his books.” He pauses for a moment. “He has been...far away, lately. More than before. I thought you should know, so it does not catch you unguarded.”

My chest tightens. I want to say that he needs to release Finn, but I don’t even know if that would help, and at least here I know he’s being taken care of.

Later.

I’ll figure out what to do about Finn after we save the world. Because unless we find some answers, where Finn lives will be the least of my worries.

The library is the way it always is—high ceilings, dust motes hanging in the slanted orange light, the smell of old leather and ink. And there, at the long table near the center, is Finn, a book open in front of him and three more stacked at his elbow. From what I can see, he’s not reading so much as resting his eyes on the page, his expression soft and unfocused, like he’s not here at all, but somewhere that exists only in his head.

“Uncle Finn,” I say, hurrying to his side.

He looks up, and it takes him a second to find me, and another to smile. “Cora. Cora, sweetheart. Look at you.” He reaches out and takes my hand, his smile so wide it tugs at my heart. “Your mother was here earlier, you know. Just there, by the stacks.” He gestures vaguely, and that wave of joy turns to frustration and worry.

“Was she?” I say, trying to keep my voice level. It kills me that he’s still hallucinating, but at least the visions give him comfort. When he tells me about them, though…well, it’s one hell of a gut-punch, because I want to see my mom, too. Even if only in a dream.

“Was she…” he repeats, his voice trailing off. “No, no, that wasn’t Cassie. Maren brought me the tea.” His brow creases, then smooths. “She’s so sweet to me.”

“I’m glad you have a friend,” I say, thankful that it wasn’t a full-on hallucination. Maren really does resemble my mother.

I crouch by his chair so I can look him in the eye. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, fine, fine. But I do so enjoy your visits. Yours and Cassie’s especially.”

“Right,” I say, forcing the words out past the lump in my throat. I’d thought that Maren would be the only Mom-fantasy, and I’m unprepared for the force of the grief that slams through me.

I clear my throat and force a smile. “I know how much you’ve missed her. I’m so glad she’s here for you.”

And in a way, I really am. There’s no question that coming to this realm muddled my uncle’s head—and while I want to take him home, I know I can’t. Not until I’m certain that the Real would unmuddle him. And definitely not now, when he’d just be stepping into the middle of the Widow Maker’s weirdness—not to mention the threat of a full-on war played out in the Real.