“Come and help me, will you?” he asked irritably.
“Me?” Ashford stopped short. “You know I haven’t got—”
“Oh, enough of that rubbish,” Kostya snapped. “It’s time you accept it. It had to go somewhere, and she certainly didn’t send it my way.” When Ashford stood there dumbly, Kostya rolled his eyes and slapped the page he was looking over. “I was there, you damnable ass. I was the last one to look into her eyes.” His voice cracked and Ashford put his face in his hands and shuddered.
“What are you talking about?” Serena asked shrilly. “Whose eyes?”
Tilly took her hand and pulled her to sit next to her on the bed. She thought she might know who Kostya was speaking about. Her lips went dry and she could barely force out the name.
“Do you mean Camilla?”
Serena gasped at the sound of Kostya’s first wife’s name. They never spoke of her, barely acknowledged she’d existed except for the yearly visits to Kostya and her daughter’s grave site. Dear little Lucy had been victim to Kostya’s terrible curse, cut down at only eight years old in a freak riding accident. It was the beginning of the end for their marriage and the start of Camilla’s descent into madness.
Tilly looked at Ashford, his face still behind his hands. She could see them tremble and all the color had washed from his ears and neck, turning him a sickly, greenish hue. Camilla, his beloved twin sister, had tried to kill him in the end. He’d been unable to defend himself against her out of love and loyalty, and Kostya had stepped in and done the deed himself. It was a day they had all crammed into the furthest recesses of their minds.
Ashford sank to the floor beside Kostya. “She wouldn’t have. I’d have known. I would know.”
“What are you talking about?” Serena shrieked. The terror in her voice raised goosebumps on Tilly’s arms, her own fear almost blotting out her anxiety over Ariana. It was as if the madwoman’s ghost was in the room with them.
“He thinks Camilla transferred her power to Ashford when she … died,” Tilly said after an uncomfortable silence. She could see Kostya was reliving the nightmare over again, raising the gun, shooting his deranged wife to save them all.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, I do believe that,” he said finally. “You must as well, Julian.”
“I certainly don’t,” Ashford argued. “I can’t do anything, as well you and Matilda both know.”
“That’s not true,” Tilly said, fresh anger surging. “You made that maniac Solomon Wodge disappear in a burst of light. Just plain disappear off the face of the earth. And I’ve seen you do other things as well when you tried hard enough. You did all those spells to come and find me when I got lost.”
Ashford shook his head. “That was… I don’t know what that was.”
“It was magic, you clothead,” Kostya said. “For whatever reason, Camilla bestowed her powers onto you. If ever there was a time to stop being stubborn and accept it, it’s now. To find your daughter. If you think you need to hold Tilly’s hand to be able to do it, then I’m sure she’ll be happy to oblige.”
To underscore Kostya’s point, Tilly scrambled to the floor and thrust her hand into Ashford’s.
“You have to try,” she said ferociously. “If you can’t reopen the portal, you need to make a new one. We have to get to the future.”
“Or you’ll have to do those spells you did when you went after Tilly all those years ago,” Kostya said, his face twisted in distaste. Those spells had nearly killed Ashford.
Tilly recalled how sick he’d been, barely able to breathe, bleeding internally. His condition had stumped every doctor who had looked him over and it was a miracle he’d survived. Could she risk Ashford for her daughter? She stoked her anger in order to douse the grief that threatened to overwhelm her. The three of them stared balefully at the book.
“I-I’ll send a messenger after Owen,” Serena said, hurrying for the door, very clearly wanting to be away from whatever was about to commence. “Several messengers since we don’t know which way he’s traveled.”
“That’s a good idea, dearest,” Kostya said. “The wee scoundrel may know what Ariana’s done and be able to undo it.”
Tilly couldn’t stand it. Every minute that passed might be the moment Ariana was murdered. Everything they’d done to prevent it had been for naught.
“We have to do something. Now.” Her voice broke as she gripped Ashford’s hand. He gripped back and reached for the book.
Chapter 3
Owen sat at a rough wooden table that was neatly covered with a brightly patterned tablecloth. A kindly woman about Sorin’s age placed a dented tin plate piled high with roasted meat in front of him.
“This is Agathe,” Sorin said. “A good friend who helps this old bachelor out from time to time.”
“Are we related?” Owen asked, not wanting to tear into the food without at least trying to act civilized first. But he was still so very hungry.
Sorin frowned and furrowed his brow. “Are we, Aggie? Maybe our great-great-great something or others were. This is a very tight-knit village. Even if not by blood, we consider each other family.”
“That’s true,” Agathe said, motioning for him to dig in. “We rarely get uninvited visitors.”
Sorin coughed and he and Agathe glanced toward the one window in the small but tidy cottage. The delicious meat turned sour in his mouth when he saw Maria once again pass by the pane. She had skipped along behind him and Sorin as they rode through the village to this house, which seemed to belong to Agathe. She refused to let Maria in. What was even more disconcerting was the fact that Maria didn’t seem upset about the snub, and only began pacing languidly back and forth in the front garden.
Owen pushed down his confusion. He
