“Right. Makes sense,” I said, feeling a flicker of excitement.
“Okay, now, where, exactly, were the trees?”
I closed my eyes and tried to call up the vision. “I was standing on a corner. The house was across a narrow street from me, and the blur was in my right eye. I think the trees were across a wide street from the house. Yeah, the house was on a corner. The front door faced a side street…. At the corner there was a wide avenue, and the trees were on the other side.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Okay, let’s think…. Describe the avenue. How wide was it? And which way was the traffic going?” Bree pressed.
“Jesus, Bree,” I said, frustrated. “I wasn’t paying attention to traffic patterns.”
“Think,” she insisted over the blare of horns. “Could you see any cars at all?”
I forced my mind back to the siren and the flashing emergency light. The light was on top of an ambulance. I followed it in my mind until a blue SUV passed on its left…. “It was at least four lanes wide, and the cars were going both ways,” I said. “It was two-way traffic. Hey!” I knew most of the avenues were one way. That narrowed it down a lot.
Bree’s voice rose with excitement. “It sounds like the house is somewhere on Central Park West. Two-way traffic…a wide avenue with a park on one side…a fancy house…I can’t think of anyplace else in Manhattan that looks like that.”
“Bree, you’re brilliant,” I said fervently.
“Where are you now?” she asked.
“Right by the Museum of Natural History.”
“Perfect,” Bree said. “Why don’t you just walk along Central Park West and see if you can find anything that looks familiar?”
Bree was right—it was perfect. I might be within a few blocks of the house right now. I might actually find Killian—and Ciaran. I felt my chest constrict with fear.
“Morgan? Are you there?” Bree asked.
“I’m here,” I said. “Listen, I’m going to look for this place. Can you try to track down Hunter? Tell him I need him now!”
Bree hesitated a moment. “Morgan, promise me that if you find it, you won’t go in there by yourself.”
“I’m not planning on it,” I said, feeling a rush of warmth at her concern. “Bree—thanks for your help.”
I hung up and made one more call, this one to Robbie’s cell. After all, he was somewhere just across the street. But all I got was his voice mail. Robbie had turned off his phone, and I didn’t have time to search the museum for him.
I tried Hunter one more time. Still nothing. Was he okay? I just had to trust that he was. And I had to trust in the fact that there were no coincidences. Fate was guiding me. I took the fact that I was on Central Park West as a sign. I was being guided to find Killian.
Focusing my eyes straight ahead, I saw the park in my peripheral vision. The blur of branches in my right eye was very much like what I’d seen in the vision.
I started walking north, and my senses began tingling. They were charged the way the air is charged before a summer rainstorm. Everything was about to break wide open. I passed a vendor selling hot roasted chestnuts, a dog walker with half a dozen yapping dogs pulling him along. The winter wind was at my back, sweeping up Central Park West, propelling me. A sense of urgency was building; adrenaline was coursing through my veins.
At the corner of Eighty-seventh and Central Park West, I stumbled to a sudden stop, my heart hammering. There it was.
The house had four stories, and I could glimpse granite facing behind a tangle of thick, gnarled wisteria vines. Three stone steps led to the front door, where a doorbell was embedded in a stone carving of a gorgon’s head. It was exactly what I’d seen in the vision.
A thin, icy cloak of fear settled around me. I was standing in front of the place where Amyranth held Killian.
11. Fated
Samhain, 1983
The rumors are true. She lives. Ballynigel was razed to the ground by the dark wave, yet Maeve Riordan and that fawning blue-eyed half-wit, Angus Bramson, managed to survive. Goddess, I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve wished them both dead and in everlasting torment. Especially her. In the space of two enchanted weeks she opened my heart and destroyed my entire life. My marriage became a hollow sham, my home a prison. Grania hates me. The children…well, they respect my power, at least.
I’m leaving Scotland, leaving Liathach. The coven has grown in strength and magick as never before. We took part in the destruction of Crossbrig, which gained Liathach their much coveted Wyndenkell spell books. But the Liathach witches are weak, fearful. They’ve been ruled too long by Grania’s family. They think I’ve led them into danger. They want to retreat. Well, let them. But I won’t be a part of it.
I don’t care about leaving Liathach. I should have done it years ago. All that matters is that I find Maeve. She has done the impossible. She survived the dark wave. I’ve scryed, and I’ve seen her. I know that she still holds me in her heart, that we are still meant to be together. I can’t live without her another day. Now I must find her.
The only question is whether it will be to tell her how much I love her…or to kill her.
— Neimhidh
The house was old, a part of the city left over from the nineteenth century. The worn stonework had a faded elegance, and the thick tangle of wisteria vines reminded me of the Briar Rose fairy tale. A sleeping princess hidden behind a wall of thorns…But Killian was no fictional princess, and I was no rescuer prince. Now that I’d found it, what on earth was I going to do?
I crossed the street to another pay phone and called Bree again. She’d just gotten back to the apartment.
“I found it,” I told her. “It’s right on the corner of Central Park West and Eighty-seventh. Have you heard anything from Hunter?”
“Nada,” Bree answered. “Any idea where he might be?”
Nothing immediately jumped to mind. Hunter was always so careful and secretive about his work. He told me only what he thought I needed to know.
“Um…there’s a Mexican witch’s shop he took me to off Hudson Street. She’s the one who told him about the woman he’s searching for. She might give you the address.”
“I’ll find her,” Bree promised. “But first I’ll leave a note here in case he comes back.”
“I’m going to stay here and keep an eye on the house,” I told Bree. “If you find Hunter, will you tell him to meet me here?”
“Okay. But call me again in twenty minutes,” Bree ordered. “I want to know that you’re safe.”
I promised I would. Then I sat down on one of the park benches that offered a clear view of the house. It was not a day for sitting outside. The air was damp and bitter cold. Within a few minutes I could hardly feel my feet.
But I could feel the house. Even though I was across the street from it, I could sense powerful magick wrapped around it.
I thought I saw a flicker of movement in one of the upper windows, and a knot of dread lodged itself in the middle of my chest. I wished I could go off searching with Bree, I really did. The idea of staying here on my own across from this house that practically oozed evil terrified me—especially knowing that Ciaran might be inside.
I hunkered down in the cold, concentrating on the house. No one came in or out. Nothing more moved in the windows. Even the wisteria branches barely moved in the icy wind. There was a bleak stillness about the house that suddenly made me wonder if I was wrong and the place was completely deserted. Magick can fool most people, I reminded myself. But not me.
I extended my senses to see what sort of magickal defenses or traps there might be. I picked up resistance at the door, a warding spell of some sort, but it didn’t feel very serious. The house wasn’t nearly as heavily spelled as Cal and Selene’s house had been. I couldn’t sense any electronic security systems, either, just the requisite New York combination of heavy-duty locks on the door. Only one of those bolts was actually shut. Strange.