bundled into warm clothing. Exeter made eye contact with the new father, who shifted his gaze from the chloroform to Prospero’s minions. He acknowledged Phaeton with a nod. If they were to try for a breakout, it would be best to give it a go sooner rather than later. There was a chance the wizard might outwit Ping and return to the den. It was not an impossible idea. None of them knew exactly how clever or devious the man was. No doubt Phaeton would have some insights—but that would have to wait. For now, Prospero remained an enigma.
Exeter stole a glance at Mia, lounging happily beside America. For an instant, he allowed an uncomfortable thought creep into his mind. He wondered what insights Mia had gleaned from her brief encounter with the man. He had found the emerald collar in the man’s private chamber. Absently, she swept up a few wisps of hair and pinned them into her topknot. Sensing his attention, she smiled and nodded.
So they were ready.
And it appeared both minions were leaving—which meant the door would be locked. Exeter called after the guards. “One more thing . . .” He caught the door just as it was about to close. Before either jailer turned, he reached over both their heads and pressed the anesthesia-soaked fabric against their mouths and nostrils. Exeter summoned a bit of potent energy, hoisting the wobbly heads, and flailing appendages into the air. “Easy, lads.” He used a hushed voice, and soon enough the kicking and thrashing ceased as the frail bodies sagged and legs began to dangle. He propped both guards against the door and tossed a ring of keys to Phaeton.
“There’s a code as well.” Phaeton reached through the bars, and pointed to a blinking box attached to the cell door. “Fortunately, I have deduced the cipher.”
Exeter examined the mysterious apparatus attached to the cell door. Following Phaeton’s instructions he pressed buttons marked with letters: P–H–A–E–D–R–A. “Phaedra—the Greek Goddess who hanged herself.” As if he had uttered magic words, the blinking light turned green and the device opened, revealing the original lockbox.
Exeter locked up the cell and pocketed the key ring. “Off in the land of Nod.” He turned to Mia and reached out. The feel of her hand in his was almost too much to bear. He wanted to pull her close, taste that luscious mouth again. But all of that tempting lovemaking would have to wait.
His gaze moved to America. She cradled the babe, and Phaeton carried both mother and child in his arms. “Don’t drop them.”
“Bugger off. A herd of Prospero’s banshees couldn’t loosen my grip.” The inimitable Phaeton grin had returned, a very good sign. In fact, it appeared to hearten everyone. There was something about the man’s attitude, a tour de force of wit and bravado. Exeter realized he had missed him sorely.
Even so, he narrowed his gaze. “Keep an eye out. Plenty of night dwellers lurking about.” Squinting into the darkness, he led the way out of the ancient dungeon. Brick and mortar was soon replaced by chiseled limestone, yet he resisted calling out for help. Better to wait and see if the troll was still on guard. A test of sorts.
And he had his answer soon enough. Squeezing through the narrow opening, Exeter searched high and low for his rescuer. “His name is Archibald Dunbar Stuart—claims he’s under some sort of enchantment.”
“Trolls all want to believe that.” Phaeton turned slowly, rocking mother and baby in his arms. “Rather convenient, wouldn’t you say? Giant troll pops up in time to dig you out—leads you straight to us—ugly little minions welcome you with open arms . . .” Phaeton didn’t roll his eyes, exactly, but the expression irritated.
Exeter sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “Let us say, for the sake of argument, that Prospero was behind all this coincidental good fortune; what might be his motive?”
Phaeton’s gaze darkened as all eyes moved to the babe in America’s arms.
Mia was the first to speak. “What if this was never about the Moonstone? I mean, it might have started out that way, and no doubt they all still want to use the Moonstone’s inexhaustible aether.”
“I’m fairly certain we could place Gaspar, Oakley, and Victor in that bunch.” Exeter offered. “But—”
“But perhaps not Prospero.” Mia rolled a bottom lip under her pearly white uppers. “We’re all thinking it. Luna is special, but what if she’s
Exeter knew what they must do. “We have to split up.”
Phaeton shook his head. “There is no safe place from him. America needs to rest—the hotel suite will have to do.”
Exeter pondered, for a moment, the whereabouts of the others. He still had no idea if Jersey Blood had survived the blast in the tunnel. Perhaps there had been additional cave-ins. Exeter shook off the grisly thought. All he really knew was that the Nightshades were missing. “There’s a communicator and a portal maker in the dining room. See if you can’t locate Oakley. Tell him to send Ruby and Cutter over.”
Phaeton nodded. “I’d feel better with a few bodyguards.”
“Mia and I will continue to act as decoys.” Exeter chose the widest, most well-trafficked tunnel and headed toward his best guess at north. Using all of his intuitive feelers, he led them in the general direction of the river. They must have covered a mile of quarry tunnel before they encountered the terrifying sound of—quiet. No more Metro trains traveling at high speed down adjacent tunnels.
“I believe we have passed through a portal.” Phaeton mused aloud. “We are returned to eighteen eighty- nine.”
“Would that be good news, or bad?” America asked.
“Good.” Phaeton mused aloud. “While in captivity, these past long months, I’ve had a chance to study the wizard. He’s not as comfortable in our world. Never stays for long and is knackered upon return.” Phaeton lifted America higher and redistributed the weight in his arms.
“Do you need a rest?” Exeter asked.
“I can go a bit longer—I was allowed a bit of gymnasium every day—confined to the cell block. Kept me from going barking mad.”
Exeter checked over the child, who had begun to fuss. “I recommend we find a defensible spot and take a rest.” A chorus of hisses and growls could be heard behind them. “What is that?”
“Something revived from the dead—ghastly creatures.” A disembodied voice answered, politely.
“Above us.” Exeter nodded upward. Perched in an alcove overhead, two large eyes blinked in the dark. A hairy face plunged forward, tilting a curious chin. Phaeton turned a shoulder to the creature, shielding mother and child, but the troll ignored the rebuff and intruded for a closer look at the infant.
“Careful.” Exeter calmed the defensive father. “He won’t hurt her.”
As if the baby could sense her father’s trepidation, Luna ceased her crying and stared.
For a moment, the hisses quieted as well. “There’s a horde of them,” the troll explained. “Made from catacomb bones, with a few masterful touches by the wizard himself.
“More wraiths?” Mia looked to Exeter.
Exeter had yet to take his eyes off the troll. “You were supposed to keep watch. What happened?”
“Those things—the drones happened. Or wraiths. Whatever you prefer to call them. Wretched creatures like most of his creations.” The troll’s brogue was gone, replaced by proper British speak.
Phaeton pivoted in place, peering down several smaller tunnels. “What’s the fastest way out of here—the closest exit?”
“There’s a passage not far from here that connects to an old drainage pipe. The storm drain leads up to a florist shop.”
Exeter nodded. “Archie, I need you to get these good people up top. Find the Hotel Claude, on Ile de la Cite.” He searched in his pocket and passed the room key over to the only one with a free hand—the troll.
Phaeton’s stare traveled from the key up the lumbering hairy-faced creature and over to Exeter. “Hard to sneak him in, but I like the size of him.”
“Lock yourselves in the sixth-floor suite. Order room service and a bottle of stout for America.” When Phaeton raised a brow, he explained, “Encourages the secretion of milk by the mammary glands.”
Mia followed close behind Exeter, who set a blistering pace through a passage that veered off to the east, along the Seine. They did not speak, but concentrated on putting as much distance between themselves and the
