The servant shook her head vigorously. “No. It will be fine. I'll stay.”
Gareth propped his chin on his hand. “There is no way to know what may happen in London. If Cesare's packs fall on Edinburgh, I don't want anyone in danger. In all likelihood, all will be well, and soon you will be able to return to your duties here.”
The young woman tightened her mouth, as if fighting back tears. “But I don't want to go.”
Gareth said, “Morgana, take the airship today and go. Please.”
She nodded quickly and left the room. Hariri took a deep breath in sympathy and followed.
“It will work out.” Adele pulled the inquisitive Pet off the table for the third time. “We can't get everyone out, no doubt. But most of them have left.”
“Are you leaving?”
“Of course not. I'm not afraid of Cesare and every vampire in Britain. I'll stay here and wait for word from you.” She walked over to Gareth and dumped the disgruntled cat in his lap. “Here, you wrestle with this beast a while. He's like a lion. What have you been feeding him? He's gained ten pounds already!”
“Everyone in town was glad to see him apparently. They all fed him.”
Adele rolled a sore shoulder. “Well, if he's on board we're going to have to dump more ballast just to get the ship into the air at this rate.”
Gareth laughed and stroked the cat's silky fur. “I could tie a note to him pleading for folks not to feed the monster.”
“Don't tempt me.” Her voice dropped to a breathy sigh. “Though if you wrote the note, I'd probably steal it for myself to keep under my pillow.” Her lips brushed his.
“I'd write you a thousand notes if it meant staying near you.”
Her breath caught every time he bared his soul like that to her. She leaned in close and whispered seductively in his ear, “My darling, do you want to come with me to arrange for horses and oxen?”
The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “As enticing as that sounds, I must decline.”
Adele laughed and kissed him gently. Their fingers trailed apart as she reluctantly left to see to her duties.
Gareth walked to his library. Though it was nothing like Alexandria's vast collection, he still felt excitement and pride in his own meager offerings. After all, it was the only one of its kind in Britain. And it had brought Adele and him closer together after being torn asunder.
He pushed through the half-opened door into his private sanctum. It was a dark and quiet place, and one that he had not visited in some time. The sparse windows, tall thin things dotted with color, still allowed for a smidgen of light. A part of him was eager to open his books again and delicately flip through the thin pages, an exercise in warm memories as well as subtle dexterity. He wished he had been able to teach Baudoin to appreciate the wonderful nature of books, but that his friend carefully cleaned the Greyfriar uniforms and honed his weapons to a sharp edge demonstrated just how far even Baudoin had come in using his hands to accomplish simple tasks. Perhaps there was some shred of hope for his people after all.
Gareth spied the trunk on the floor. The sound of his boots thudded on the stones. There were odd shadows cast about the floor, and he paused to study them a moment, lost in the artistry of the designs.
The door slammed shut behind him. Gareth spun around, but saw no one. The room was empty. Only when his skin suddenly flushed hot, he knew he was not alone. Agony seared his flesh and he staggered forward. The shaded designs under his feet flared to life in a white brilliance. Gareth immediately recognized the runic symbols of geomancy. Every space on the walls and floor was covered with geometric drawings. The closed door completed the pattern, sealing him inside a death trap.
The assassin had found him.
In his ears came a hum like taut steel spinning and he dove to the side. A steel barb attached to a thin wire sliced the air above him. It would have taken his head.
The humming began again. Gareth tried to move, but he wasn't fast enough. He didn't even register the bite of the barb until it wrapped around his arm, slicing into his flesh straight to the bone. The wire snapped taut and jerked him off his feet. A second wire whistled, and something sharp stabbed into the small of his back, striking a nerve. His legs went numb. He struggled to rise to his unsteady feet, grasping the silvery wire to pull himself up.
Now Gareth saw the assassin he was fighting: a tall African woman. She wore numerous talismans on chains and attached to her clothing. He could smell her power surging. Her eyes were dark with determination and hatred. They reminded him of Mamoru's. This was someone whose life had been irrevocably changed by his kind. There would be no reasoning with her. Instead of pulling back, he rushed toward her, closing the gap between them.