Firethorn. Promethium. Augustus.
“In exchange for the favors I’ve done for you this day, I want a favor in return.” Bowen’s voice was every bit as aristocratic as his brother’s, but there was the slightest lilt to it. “Anyfavor of my choosing. Those three words will be the key. No one will know those words, except you and me. When I call in your debt—with those words—you will give me whatever I ask of you. That is the cost of your invitation to the Mercy, should you choose to open it.” Bowen paused for one second, maybe two. “Now, you may speak, Simon.”
It didn’t escape Jameson’s attention that Bowen used his brother’s given name, not his title.
“Do not do this,” Branford told Jameson, his voice low.
“Persuasive, isn’t he?” Bowen quipped. “Myelderbrother.”
“Any favor?” Jameson directed that question to the phone.
Branford locked fingers around his forearm. “Jameson—”
“Nothing that will cost you Vantage,” Bowen clarified on the phone. “Nothing illegal. Nothing that will do direct harm to you or anyone you love.”
“Nodirectharm,” Jameson echoed, pulling his arm from Branford’s grasp. “What aboutindirectharm?”
“I can hardly be held responsible for every possible downstream effect.”
“How about this, then,” Jameson countered. “Noanticipatedharms to me or to those I love.”
“Jameson.” Branford was practically vibrating with intensity now.“Do not do this.”
“I can agree,” Bowen said on the phone, “to your stipulation.”
“And the favor has to be from me.” Jameson ignored Branford and focused only on the task at hand. “Not Avery.”
“Agreed.” There was a note of finality in Bowen’s tone, and Jameson knew instinctively: That was the last stipulation his uncle would agree to. “Now,” Bowen continued, “should you find these terms acceptable, you will walk out to the terrace alone, close the door behind you, and say the three words on that scrap of paper where no one else can hear them. But before you do that, young Hawthorne, be sure that you mean it. Because those who default on a deal with me tend to find the consequences… mostunpleasant.”
“Jameson—don’t.” Branford tried one last time, but when Jameson plucked the phone off the silver tray, his uncle didn’t stop him.
As Jameson walked out onto the terrace and closed the door behind him, no one stopped him.
“Firethorn.”Jameson said the first word, fairly certain that was a flower. “Promethium.” An element.“Augustus.”
And just like that, it was done.
“Your invitation is for midnight,” Bowen said, “and not a minute before. You’ll find further instructions in the envelope. Do dress appropriately.”
The muscles in Jameson’s throat tightened. “I will.”
“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Hawthorne.”
Chapter 48
ROHAN
The kitten slept deeply and well on Rohan’s lap. Savannah, on the other hand, was wide awake, as she had been the entire flight. Same for the scholar.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for having a softness for strays.” Brady eyed the crook of Rohan’s arm, into which the kitten had burrowed.
“I’m terribly soft,” Rohan deadpanned.
“You are a stray.” Savannah had opted for a seat on Rohan’s side of the aisle, a table between them—so close and yet so far.She wasn’t wrong about him being a stray. Children did not come into the custody of the Devil’s Mercy forgoodreasons. Rohan had told Savannah as much—on Hawthorne Island and again in the bayou. He’d told her far more than he should have.
Again. And again. And again.
“It’s been hours.” Brady Daniels had chosen a seat across the aisle, his back to the pilot—and not to either of them. “I’m still waiting on the details of your plan, Rohan.”
