Moonshadow (Moonshadow #1)(29)

“I should have added one more thing to my list.” She gave them a cold, thin smile. “Don’t try to protect me in spite of myself.”

Quick anger burned in Nikolas’s dark eyes. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Yeah, well, whose fault is that?” They looked at each other but remained silent, so she stood and hoisted Robin under her arm. “Glad we got a chance to clear the air. Thanks for supper. Good-bye.”

When she walked away, neither of them tried to stop her. She wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t expected them to. They might have cleared the air, but that was all they had achieved.

Because they knew as well as she did: the enemy of her enemy was not necessarily her friend.





Chapter Six





Back in her room, Sophie set Robin on the bed and paced. They might have cleared the air, but the aftermath of the confrontation with Nikolas still leaped in her muscles. She was wound too tightly, and after that horrible nap, she was never going to get to sleep.

She almost scooped up her purse and keys to leave, but running into Nikolas had been a strong wake-up call. Instead, she sat at the old, worn armchair tucked into one corner of the room and pulled out her colloidal silver. Not the water-based colloidal silver that she had used on Gawain. This time she pulled out another vial from her suitcase.

Robin had curled up on the bed, but when she uncapped the vial, he sat up to watch her. His eyes seemed brighter and more focused.

After giving him an assessing look, she turned to her work. Fifteen minutes later, after whispering spells that she painted onto her hands and forearms, she finally felt ready to leave her room. When the last spell was dry, she capped the vial, stood, and scooped up her purse.

Robin leaped off the bed. She told him, “There’s no reason for you to come along just because I’ve got insomnia. You should stay and rest.”

Instead of taking her up on her suggestion, he went over to stand by the door. He was moving better too, she saw, so she shrugged and opened the door for him. Together they went quietly down the stairs.

Business in the pub was winding down. She found Maggie washing glasses. The other woman greeted her with more reserve than she had earlier. Sophie regretted that, but she didn’t blame her. She said, “I’m going for a drive. How would you like for me to come back in?”

Maggie told her, “We lock up the front of the building where the liquor is, but you can come in the back entrance. We’ll be up late for a private gathering.” She eyed Sophie curiously. “You won’t find anything open. Town’s all closed up this time of night.”

“That’s all right. The countryside is beautiful, and I’m never going to sleep anyway.”

Besides, curiosity was eating her alive. Sophie turned to go, Robin at her heels. She let the puck leap into the Mini first, then she climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered, reaching for the ignition.

The car started perfectly. The GPS worked as well, the fucking fucker. Annoyed but not surprised, she smacked it with the back of her hand, double-checked her directions, then pulled out of the lot.

Within a few moments, she had left the streetlights of Westmarch behind and plunged into deep countryside. Overhead, the moon was full and gorgeous in a midnight blue, clear sky, and the stars were so bright and seemed so close Sophie felt like she could pluck them out of the sky.

The roads she drove were narrow and winding, and clusters of trees and hedges threw deep, almost impenetrable shadows, so she drove slowly. The land was alive with such aged magic, after a few moments she felt drunk on it. She rolled down the windows to let a fitful breeze gust into the car. Beside her in the passenger seat, Robin sat still, his eyes glistening in the dim dashboard lights.

As they drew closer, she could feel it, the broken crossover passageway. Then stone pillars emerged from the darkness, outlined by the car’s headlights. They had once supported iron gates that blocked the drive to the house, but as she turned gently onto the gravel drive, she saw that the gates now leaned against the pillars, overgrown with ivy.

The sound of tires crunching on the gravel seemed very loud in the dense quiet. The grass on either side of the driveway looked freshly mowed, while a deep, unkempt forest bordered the green lawn. After she had turned into the drive, a small cottage came into view. That would be the gatekeeper’s house, her home for the next three months.

She could explore that tomorrow. She went farther, about a hundred yards or so, and as she drove around a bend past a clump of trees, the house came into view.

The house. The family albatross.

In the full moonlight, the massive manor house was a hulking, shadowed mystery. She let the car drift to a stop, then turned off the engine and stepped out, holding the door for Robin to follow. To her senses, the house felt steeped with all the magnificent, shattered magic of the crossover passageway.

Studying the roof, she counted. There seemed to be five gables at first, but then, just as it had when she had studied the photograph, her vision shifted and there were seven. She laughed softly, as she felt herself doing the most foolish thing she had done in years.

She fell in love with the albatross. Right there, in the moonlight, she fell in love with what had to be the most useless piece of real estate in the United Kingdom.

One of the things she had packed for her trip was a compact Maglite that fit easily into her purse. She pulled it out now to shine light on the ground as she picked her way along the broken flagstone path to the wide front doors. They were thick and sturdy, made of oak and bound with iron. Surprised that the flashlight worked so close to the building, she wondered if that meant she would be able to take photos from inside.