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"Okay," I said. "Give me and Owen ten minutes to get into position, then start shooting. "
"What are you going to do about the giants now that they have Eva?" Bria asked.
I shrugged. "There's nothing I can do but walk right into Clementine's trap and try to distract them long enough for Owen to sneak up and steal Eva away from them. "
Bria's face tightened with worry, but after a moment, she nodded. So did Xavier and Owen. We all knew this was how it had to be now.
Owen got to his feet and headed down the stairs. I started to follow him but turned and grabbed Bria's hand instead.
"And if I don't come back," I whispered, "there are a couple of things in the back of the rotunda that belong to us. Some things I noticed among Mab's treasures. Make sure you get them. "
Bria frowned. "What? What are you talking about?"
I thought about telling her about our mother's and sister's runes, but I clamped my lips shut at the last second. It wouldn't do any good to tell her about them. Not now. She'd just be distracted thinking about them, as I had been earlier.
Maybe if I hadn't been brooding about the runes, I would have realized what Clementine was up to. Maybe then I would have been able to save Jillian. Maybe . . . maybe I had too many damn maybes cluttering up my mind.
Instead of answering her question, I shook my head. "You'll know them when you see them. Trust me. "
Bria gave me a quizzical look, obviously wondering what I was babbling on about at a time like this, but she finally nodded. She squeezed my hand again before she moved over to Xavier. The two of them slid into position at the edge of the balcony and slowly, carefully, quietly trained their guns on the guards below.
I hurried down the stairs. Owen was waiting for me at the bottom. He fell into step beside me as we walked down the hallway. We didn't speak as we moved through the museum. We didn't have to. After everything we'd been through these past few weeks, the companionable quiet felt nice, comfortable, and soothing, even if I was probably marching toward my own death. Well, at least he was here with me for the end. Owen would get Eva to safety, and I'd take care of the bad guys, the way I always did.
We made it back to the side door and stepped outside. After that, it was just a matter of following the stone path down the hill to the bottom of the island. The sweet perfume of the ever-present honeysuckle seemed to have gathered strength while we'd been inside, hanging over everything like a thick, humid cloud. This side of the island wasn't as manicured and cultivated as the front, and the farther down the slope we went, the more the landscape darkened with thick tangles of briars and brambles. I didn't mind the change in scenery, though. The briars were beautiful in their own right, sharp and curved, rough and prickly, hardy enough to survive on the island, resilient enough to flourish here despite all the many concentrated attempts to kill them off. Just like me. At least, that was my hope tonight.
We stopped at a curve in the path just out of sight of the boathouse. Time to split up.
"How do you want to do this?" Owen asked.
"I'll go at
Clementine straight on and try to keep her focused on me as long as possible," I said. "Do you think you can get in the water and wade around to the back of the boathouse? That way, we can attack from two sides at once. I think that's our best chance of saving Eva. "
He nodded and rolled his shoulders. He winced a little, but I knew that he wouldn't let the pain of his gunshot wound stop him. "I can do it. You ready?"
I held up my knife so that it caught the moonlight and reflected it back. "Always. "
"Be careful," he said.
"You too. "
Owen hesitated like he wanted to say something else, but in the end he just nodded.
I nodded back, not trusting myself to speak. Despite the situation, I'd wanted - no, hoped - for something here. Some small sign that things were getting better between us. Some small sign that things were going to be okay. But Owen didn't give it to me. Instead, he just looked at me a moment longer before disappearing into the briars.
So I drew in another breath, let it out, and started down the path again.
Chapter 22
I rounded the bend and was reminded of something else that Briartop was known for: its statues.
A dozen stone statues lined either side of the path, all shaped like Civil War soldiers, all with their rifles held high, as if they were about to pull the triggers and give me a twenty-one-gun salute. Well, twenty-four, in this case. From what I remembered, one row of statues was Union soldiers, while the others represented the Confederacy. Even more soldier statues perched behind the front lines, the figures all forming a sort of stone battlefield in the middle of the lush greenery. Supposedly, back during the war, some battle had been fought for control of Briartop. And here I was, fighting Clementine for it tonight.
I slowed my steps, staring at each one of the figures, wondering if perhaps Clementine, Opal, or Dixon was hiding somewhere among all the stone arms and legs, preparing an ambush like I'd wanted to. But it seemed the giants were nowhere in sight.
I'd started to move past the statues, when the moon slid out from behind a cloud, highlighting the soldier closest to me. Maybe it was the way the light reflected off that particular statue, but it made me think of another place, another time, another enemy . . .
I crept through Peter Delov's mansion as quiet as the proverbial mouse, searching for the giant.
