He clucks his tongue. “Traipsing into the woods all by your lonesome when the young women of Foggy Hollow are in such peril? You do insist on being reckless.”
“I insist on getting answers.”
“And you think the witchy Bramble woman will give them to you?” He gives his fingers a drum and casts his attention toward the trees. “What discovery did you make the other night?”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, Selah. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“Not even close,” I mutter.
He smiles thinly. “You expect me to believe that you and your little friend group were really that eager to see a plant in the conservatory?” His gaze drops to the sketchpad under my arm. “What is it you were so eager to discuss?”
I press my lips together.
Rafe turns off the car. He slides out of the Porsche as smooth as silk. “I thought we were on the same team.”
“How did you reach that conclusion?”
“I helped you break into the crypt. Before that, I spent multiple days trying to get back into Lainey’s good graces, which was no walk in thepark, I can assure you. She may be Dr. Psycho’s minion now, but she is every bit as insufferable as she ever was. Not to mention, I saved your life. Twice. It’s pretty poor repayment to keep me in the dark.”
“Why do you care to be in the know? While we’re at it, why are you still here in Foggy Hollow? And please spare the lies. We both know you don’t really care what happens to me.”
He leans against the car door and crosses one ankle over the other. “You don’t think me capable of caring?”
“About yourself, sure. About others? Not so much.”
“Maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf, Selah. Facing death changes a man. Especially one who hasn’t had to face death in, well, a very long time.” He folds his arms. “I did a lot of reflecting while trapped in the Overlay, and I realized—Jude may be tediously brooding and mind-numbingly serious, but he’s my last remaining relative. All I have left in the world. I don’t want a ruby sucking his life away.”
The mere mention of the ruby makes my stomach twist. “I don’t believe you care about Jude.”
“That’s the beautiful thing about the truth, my dear. It’s not dependent upon your belief.”
I narrow my eyes at him, leaning against his fancy car looking as gorgeous and unflappable as ever. I would be a fool to believe anything Rafe has to say. I’m not a fool. But I’m also not keen on wasting time either.
“Fine.” The word escapes in a frozen huff.
I tell him the condensed version. Lily was drawing the future. Now Vorat is marking teens with the past. A very specific past. “Mother Bramble told Lily she would be plagued with second sight. Meanwhile, her own daughter has sight of her own. Maybe Mistress Bramble knows something.”
“You’re going to show her the sketchpad?”
“I don’t know what else to do at this point. Now if you’ll excuse me,” I say, lifting the sketchpad in question, “I’d really like to get going.”
Rafe gestures toward the footpath. “By all means.”
When I turn to go, he follows.
I round on him. “What are you doing?”
“Coming with. It’s been awhile since I paid the Bramble cabin a visit.”
“Does she know you?”
“You mean like, in the way Opal Bogaard knows me?”
“Seriously Rafe.”
“No, Selah. I’ve never officially met Mistress Bramble, but today feels like a good day.”
