Mo nodded and looked at me. “Meet you at Kirby Stephen—probably The Green Lodge if they’ve rooms available.”
As she shifted shape and flew out of the Gill, I unstrapped my daggers and lashed them together. Their blades were silver, which meant they were immune to the shifting magic that took care of everything else. “Be careful, Max. Not only might there still be demons in the area, but there’s every chance the heir will come here to test the sword.”
He snorted. “If he had any brains, he wouldn’t. He’d wait until all the fuss died down.”
“He might not be that cunning.” Which was unlikely. Everything so far suggested we were dealing with someone who meticulously planned each and every move. He wouldn’t have kept ahead of us otherwise, even with inside help.
“It doesn’t take cunning to understand rushing into anything is never a good idea.” He shrugged and pulled out his phone. “I’ll make the call to Kiri now. You’d better head out, otherwise Mo will be back here telling us both off.”
I half smiled. “Enjoy the champers and your man.”
“Oh, I intend to. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I altered shape, grabbed my knives in my claws, and flew out of the Gill. I didn’t go far, though, landing in the long grass a short distance from the bridge to wait for Max. He appeared a few minutes later, his dark plumage merging with the night, making him harder to see. I followed at a safe distance, keeping close to the ground so there’d be less chance of him spotting me if he happened to glance over his wing.
Thankfully, he didn’t. Once he’d reached the road, he resumed human form, made a phone call, and then climbed into his racy red Jag. Relief stirred through me. Part of me—a tiny, very distrusting part—had feared he’d be driving a silver Volkswagen Golf rather than his own car. Tris’s control—who he’d met in Ordsell and who no doubt had ordered him killed not long afterward—had been driving a Golf. I’d tried to follow him the night he and Tris had met, but a blackbird’s wings were no match for a car driven at speed. I’d given the number plate to Luc but, as yet, we hadn’t discovered the registered owner.
I watched Max leave, then flew on to Kirby Stephen. As tempting as it was to follow Max to his destination, I couldn’t ignore the growing ache from my wounds. Shifting from one shape to another didn’t magically heal them, and whatever wounds I gained in one form, I had in the other. I guess it was just lucky the demons hadn’t done any major damage to my arms. Walking to Kirby Stephen would not have been fun.
Although I could have asked Max to drive me—his reaction would have been interesting. Aside from the fact he was fastidious when it came to his car and certainly wouldn’t have wanted blood on the seats, he’d left the area pretty damn quickly … which was only sensible, I guess. Hell, I’d have done the same thing given the threat of more demons or the possible arrival of a mad heir. It seemed that the tiny niggles of distrust wouldn’t entirely go away, even though as yet there’d been no concrete, legitimate reason for it.
It took me a little bit of time to find The Green Lodge, as Kirby Stephen was bigger than I’d expected. The Lodge was a two-story stone-built building with a slate tile roof and a lovely old thatched veranda covering the main door. Warm light shone from at least half the windows, but there was only one room that had a window open and the curtains pulled aside. I swooped in and shifted shape, landing lightly in a half crouch between the two single beds. For several minutes, I didn’t move. In truth, I couldn’t move. All those cuts and bites that hadn’t seemed so major were suddenly making their presence felt, and nearly every part of my body goddamn hurt. I needed painkillers, but they were sitting in the first aid kit in my backpack, and Max now had that.
The sound of running water told me Mo was in the shower, but she must have filled the kettle before she went in, because it boiled and then clicked off. I forced myself upright and, with a soft groan of pain, hobbled over to make myself a cup of tea. A hot cuppa always made things seem just that little bit better.
Mo came out of the shower ten minutes later, a white towel wrapped around her body. Though her face remained gaunt, there was at least some color back in her cheeks. “So, what did your brother do when we left him?”
A smile twitched my lips. “How did you know I was going to keep an eye on him?”
“Because it was the sensible thing to do, and you’re an eminently sensible girl.” She waved a hand, amusement creasing the corners of her bright eyes. “That would, of course, be my genes coming out in you.”
I laughed softly, then winced as the slight movement sent pain slithering across my back. Mo immediately frowned. “Just how bad is that bite?”
“I don’t know. I can’t exactly see it.” And didn’t really want to, if I was at all honest.
She tsked. “Go have a shower. You stink worse than Hades, and I can’t fix anything with demon crap all over you.”
“You need to rest before—”
“I’ll be fine, darling girl. Besides, with Darkside’s spotlight on us, the last thing we need right now is you getting sick.”
I snorted softly. “It’s not like they’ve any reason to come after me now that the sword has been claimed.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Meaning what?”
She waved a hand. “Later. Go shower. The air in the room is becoming unbreathable.”
I’d learned long ago straight answers and Mo weren’t often companions, but I nevertheless shook my head in frustration. “You are so annoying sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?” She tsked again. “I’ll have to pick up my game. Go.”
I gulped down the remains of my tea and hobbled—wincing all the way—into the bathroom. After plugging my phone into the charger, I flicked on the shower and grabbed a fresh bar of soap. It was lavender scented, which would go some way to erasing the demons’ stink from my skin. Nothing would ever erase it from my clothes—they’d have to be burned when I got home—but I could at least wash the worst of the blood and muck off them.
Mo was on her phone when I finally came out of the bathroom, but waved me toward the bed. I lay on my stomach and closed my eyes, only half listening to the conversation. From the bits I could hear, she was talking to Barney—who was not only her current lover, but also the head of Ainslyn’s witch council. He didn’t sound happy.
“We’ve a meeting with the builders at eleven,” Mo was saying. “But we can be at your place by one, if that’s okay.”
Though I couldn’t hear exactly what he said, it sounded tetchy.
“I know, and I’m sorry, but building a secondary line of defense across the main gate has drained me. I can barely lift my arms, let alone fly any great distance.”
His reply sounded more conciliatory in tone, and Mo smiled. “Love you, too. See you soon.”
“Do you?” I asked, as she hung up.
“Probably not in the way he wishes, but there are many degrees of love.” She shrugged. “I’ve lost my heart many times over the centuries, but passion that burns the brightest doesn’t always last the longest. These days I prefer comfortable companionship over fervor.”