The Book Eaters(62)
The only intelligence he ever acknowledged was that which mirrored his own. Ramsey believed his strength came from his own cruelty, and so could not recognize such qualities in other people—including her.
So much the better. If Devon wanted to enact her own plans, she simply had to take advantage of Ramsey’s blindness.
She cricked her neck, brought up her Recent Contacts, and pressed the Call button again, but this time for a different number: the one she’d called yesterday evening, before leaving the flat with Hester and Cai.
Three rings, followed by cautious silence.
“Nycteris follows the firefly,” she said, because there was no need for Morse code at the moment. “It’s me.”
“Which, like herself, was seeking the way out,” came the answer, and Jarrow Easterbrook sighed theatrically. “Still gives me a heart attack every time you ring, you know. I’m losing years off my life over here.”
She couldn’t help but smile. He never changed, not in the ways that mattered.
“It’s good to hear from you.” Devon crushed the handset against her ear. “Things are moving, and very quickly. Can you pick me up from Traquair House, in Innerleithen?”
“When are we talking? How quick is quick?”
She grimaced. “Tomorrow, apparently. Although I’m not sure exactly when we’re leaving.”
“Jesus, Dev! One day’s notice? Really?”
“You’ve had months to prepare,” she protested. “Okay, fine, it’s not fair, but it’s all I’ve got. Ramsey is going full throttle.”
“Fuck me.”
“Is that a no?” she said, iced with sudden anxiety.
A rustling noise. Paper being rifled.
“Are you there?” she said. “I don’t have much time—”
“It’s enough time, I can do it,” he said. “Listen. At the juncture where the Leithen Water tributary meets the River Tweed, you will find a trio of riverine islands. Meet me there tomorrow morning.”
“A trio of what now?” Damn his romanticism, she thought with annoyance. “Can’t we just meet in town?”
“Fuck, someone’s coming, gotta go.” He hung up.
Devon clutched the disconnected receiver, vacillating between relief and anxiety. So much to juggle, so many spinning plates. Focus on the goal, she thought, chest squeezing. Focus on the goals, not the obstacles. On the needs, not the fears.
Two days. Only two days.
Devon stood, scooped up her bag, and went to catch up with her other two companions. The car would be ready by now.
* * *
The inside of the little gray Ford smelled like the outside of a farm. A few miles in, and Devon felt compelled to roll down the window and hang her head out. The balm of snow and woodland soothed her offended nose. In the driver’s seat next to her, Hester hummed as she steered them toward a twisting country road. Avoiding the motorway. She’d insisted on driving, since she had shoes and knew where they were going. Fine by Devon.
Haggling had been straightforward enough, and if the farm owners found it odd that Hester paid in cash, they hadn’t complained. Likewise, neither Devon nor Hester complained when they charged far more than the car was worth. As with the room last night, money solved a host of quibbles.
As they’d pulled away, she’d glanced in the rearview mirror; the farm owners were staring after them with hands on hips, heads leaned together. Devon had wondered briefly if the pair would end up filing a police tip-off, then decided she didn’t really care.
The miles drifted by and Devon leaned her head against the rest, oddly tired despite a good night’s sleep. Too much cumulative exhaustion. She was just starting to doze off when Cai’s voice jerked her to wakefulness.
“Do you hear that?” He peered through the back passenger window, craning his neck. “Sounds like a motorcycle coming down the road.”
Devon sat up, instantly alert. “Where?”
“Which direction?” Hester said. “Are you sure?”
“Ahead of us!” He pointed.
Hester hit the brakes abruptly, throwing all three of them against their seat belts, and stuck her head out of the window to listen.
Devon also peered out. The narrow country road lay empty, couched between grayish-green fields and speckled with sheep. And cutting through that domestic silence was the unmistakable burr of a bike engine. Too far to be seen yet, on that twisting road.
“From the front,” she said. “Coming toward us.”
Hester revved the car back into motion. “The two of you duck down and he likely will just pass us by. Hurry!”
Cai hunkered down, eyes squeezed shut. The speck blossomed into a lumpy squidge of black, growing bigger as the two vehicles streamed toward each other. The knight was clearly visible on his black bike, ironically helmetless, smart suit obscured by an expensive bomber jacket.
One of Ramsey’s knights, out scouting for them. Here to have a flashy car chase, just as she’d requested. His voice floated up from her memory: Keep this one alive, please. I’m tired of cleaning up the bodies of my men, and knights are not infinitely expendable.
Fuck that. Every knight she could kill in advance improved her chances of getting out of this mess alive, and even better if it made her look good in Ravenscar eyes.