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“My bird can do many things, but my warriors are eager to go home,” Lucienne said, testing the girl. “Why should they stay and search for him? He’s nothing to me.”

“If you find him, he’ll help you build a bigger and faster machine bird.”

Lucienne laughed musically. “He’s only a farm boy, like the rest.”

Anger blazed in Violet’s eyes. “Ash is nothing like the rest! I’ll show you.” She shoved her hand inside her odd-looking peasant green blouse.

Vladimir kept the girl in sight, ready to pounce if she produced a weapon. Lucienne darted an amused glance at him. After spending two years with her, he was now aware that every girl had the potential to be dangerous.

Violet dragged out a silver flute. Vladimir relaxed his shoulders, but Lucienne fixed her eyes on the instrument—it might not be an ordinary flute. Before she could question the girl, Violet placed the lip plate below her lower lip and breathed into the embouchure hole.

High-pitched screams filled the air.

Orlando and the warriors threw their hands over their ears, doubling over. Lucienne clenched her teeth, while Vladimir, his strength barely holding out, lunged at Violet, snatched the flute from her, and blew a lungful of air into the mouthpiece that her lips had just touched.

The scream persevered.

Beads of perspiration crawled down the warriors’ faces and their eyes bulged in anguish.

Vladimir bent the weapon against his knee, but it was unbreakable. He smashed it onto the ground. Nothing worked. He dropped the flute as the horrible sounds became too much. Staggering, he raised his gun and leveled it at Violet, who remained untouched.

“Don’t . . . shoot!” Lucienne warned. She knew if the redhead died, the sound would never be turned off. “Turn . . . it off . . . now!” she commanded Violet.

Violet picked up the tool and blew air into the opposite end of the flute. The screech ceased instantly. “Ash made the Screamer. It doesn’t hurt me or Ash’s family,” the girl gloated. “Only he and I can turn it off. Would you like me to show you again?”

Lucienne’s face was still pale from the onslaught. “You’ve made your point. But if you try it again, my men will shoot you.” Her soft approach from moments ago was gone. Lucienne had steel in her eyes.

“Ash didn’t set the sound to the killing range. I wasn’t going to kill you,” Violet said without sympathy or even a hint of regret.

“You turn it on again, we will kill you,” Lucienne asked. “Do you understand?”

Violet glared at Lucienne, then nodded. “Will you help find Ash?”

“Besides Ashburn, who else can make things like that?” Lucienne asked.

“No one,” Violet said. “The others are all mean and useless.”

“We have a more urgent matter, Lucia,” Vladimir said. “The riot—”

“The riot can wait,” Lucienne shifted to Russian. “We must find this boy first. I don’t want anyone else getting to him before I know if he is the one who tampered with the Eye of Time.” She turned to Violet, shifting back to English. “You can tell me more about your friend inside my bird.”

“Fine,” Violet said. “Thank you.”

Lucienne didn’t hear appreciation or trust in the girl’s voice. She knew the redhead had no choice but to rely on them, strangers, to find her friend.

“Don’t thank me yet. I need payment for our efforts,” Lucienne said.

“I don’t have money.” Violet’s lips tightened; her eyes flashed panic.

“The Screamer will do. I can’t risk letting you use it against us again.”

“I won’t. I give you my word.”

Lucienne laughed softly. “Words are cheap.”

“Not mine. This Screamer is Ash’s. I can’t just give it to you.”

“Suit yourself,” Lucienne said. “We’re leaving.” She said to her warriors. “If she attempts to use it again, shoot her hands.” She headed to the aircraft, her men flanking her.