Caden pulled me close to him. “I’m so sorry, Eve. I didn’t know. I swear it.”
I reached for his hand and pulled it to my cheek, closing my eyes to revel in his touch for a long moment while I thought. Right now, right at this very moment, Sofie’s sister was out of her statue and vulnerable to a horde of crazy witches and the Sentinel. She could be dead already. If Viggo or Mortimer found out—I looked up to see cold blue eyes dissecting me. He’s trying to read me! He wouldn’t be able to read anything definitive through my sheer terror right now, thank God—those two would do whatever it took to get her out, even if it meant blowing up a square block of Manhattan. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if Sofie would act more rationally. And how long would it take before she figured out that the tribe’s magic had reversed the tomb spell? Caden was right. I had to keep this to myself.
“So what’s the plan? Are we going back to New York?” I asked vaguely.
Sofie shook her head. “Veronique is safe while she’s in that statue. They’ve kept the attack under wraps, but if we go back there now . . . who knows what kind of spectacle they’ll make.”
I averted my gaze to my hands and bit my bottom lip, distressed by the knowledge that I was betraying Sofie by not telling her what I knew. I now had two volatile secrets to keep. Suddenly the fact that the Death Tribe’s magic coursed through my veins, preventing me from getting what I desperately wanted, seemed trivial. A repeat of Ratheus was coming. “What are we going to do?” I whispered, unable to keep the distress from my voice.
Sofie’s answer was calm and clear. “Simple. We change fate.”