Page 13 of Gray Dawn

“The safehouse in Charlotte is secure,” the golem said, able to speak clearly when asked a direct question by the man, who must have been Rue’s scary grandfather. “The condo in Dallas is also freshly warded and ready for your arrival.”

Charlotte?

Dallas?

I could remember those cities. Iwouldremember. As soon as I got back to Rue, I would tell her.

“Bjorn was always so meticulous,” he lamented then sighed. “We leave within the hour.”

“Yes, Master.”

Step, step, thump.

Step, step, thump.

Step, step, thump.

The door protested as it closed behind the director.Formerdirector. I wasn’t sure what to call him.

Names held power.

My mom taught me that…before.

He didn’t deserve my fear. No one did.

Rue taught me that.

There was a big bad in Mystic Seas that I hated with the fire of a thousand suns. Big Nose Baron. I bet the director would flip if he heard me call him that. I couldn’t picture his face—I had never seen it—but I could imagine a grumpy old man scowling at me while his cheeks turned as red as a shark bite.

Big Nose Baron, it is.

“Clay?” I pitched my voice low. “Can I ask you something?”

The golem didn’t answer, just continued his task, leaving me to sit and stare into the dark.

CHAPTER FIVE

Mom left within minutes of her arrival, which was for the best. Proctor was salivating over the grimoire. I didn’t want to watch him drool over Mom like she was a juicy steak he couldn’t wait to bite. One wrong word, and Dad would gut him. That would be that. Any help he could offer me would die with him.

Having walked a loop, Dad and I circled back to the covered bridge to hear the verdict.

The Mayhews fell in step behind us, Marita having shifted back onto four legs to roam with Derry.

I didn’t have much hope left in me, so I wasn’t surprised when Proctor gave no hint of having experienced a revelation.

“To separate her from the artifact,” he announced without flourish, “we’ll have to kill her.”

One second, Proctor stood before me. The next, he dangled from Dad’s hand where his fingers latched around his fellow author’s throat.

“Touch my daughter and die.”

Huh.

Dad and I had more in common than I would have thought.

We both used the same death threat.

“I’m not…proposing…we let her…stay…dead.” Proctor wriggled and thrashed. “We could?—”