And simple the moment remained, right up until the text came in from Alisa.
In a room that had once been Tobias Hawthorne’s study, Grayson set Alice’s golden arrow down on the desk.
“We’ve got him.” Alisa wasted no time cutting to the heart of the matter. “The man in the sketch. His name was Edgar Aquila Reyes.”
The blood in Lyra’s veins turned electric. “Aquila.” Lyra looked to Grayson. “That was one of the three asterisked names in Eve’s file. AndReyes—that was another one.”
Grayson slipped his hand, torn knuckles and all, into Lyra’s. “Did Edgar have a brother?” he asked Alisa, who held out the piece of paper in her hand in response.
It was a printout of a photograph. Lyra accepted it—and stared. In the photo, a dark-haired woman held what looked to be a newborn in a pale blue blanket. Standing in front of the woman were two little boys, one of them the spitting image of Lyra as a child. And the other…
“Tomás,” Lyra said. Herfather.
“Records suggest the name he was given at birth was actually Luiz—Luiz Aquila Reyes. Two last names, one from each parent, per convention in Spain and many Latin American countries, including Brazil.”
“Brazil.” Lyra stared at the photo. “Is that where this was taken?”
Is that where my father was from—orisfrom?
“Their mother and father immigrated to the States from Brazil,” Alisa said, “not all that long before this picture was taken.” Whatever she might have said next was cut off by the sound of a violentbang.
A gunshot?
“Door,” Grayson told Lyra, picking up the golden arrow once more, “banging open.” And then he took off running. Lyra made it to the entry to the wing in time to see another form blur past.
“Jameson?” Grayson glanced back at Alisa. “Did we know he was coming home?”
“We did not.”
Grayson bolted after Jameson, and Lyra bolted after Grayson, because she had the sense that this could get uglyfast, but when Jameson finally came to a stop in a room filled with model trains, it was like he didn’t even see Grayson—or Lyra.
“Where’s Xander?” Grayson asked, but it was like Jameson couldn’t hear them, either, as he pushed a button on the side of one of the trains, and one of the room’s four walls split in two, revealing yet another hidden chamber.
Lyra walked up to the edge of it but didn’t step inside. Crowding Jameson Hawthorne did not seem like a good idea right now. The chamber gleamed, and it took Lyra a moment to realize that the walls were made of—
“Obsidian,” Jameson said—to himself, not to them.“And white agate.”
“Jamie.” Grayson edged past Lyra and latched a hand on to his brother’s shoulder. “Why are you here? What’s going on?What do you know?”
Lyra thought about Grayson punching that wall, over and over again, and then she thought about Jameson taking a swing at Grayson back on Hawthorne Island.
This had the potential to go very badly.
Lyra laid a hand gently on Grayson’s shoulder.Don’t push him, Grayson.Everything about Jameson’s posture, the way he moved, the way he held himself—all of it told Lyra that it would be unwise for Grayson to keep touching his brother.
Grayson allowed his hand to drop. “You can’t ignore me forever, Jamie,” he said, but Jameson seemed determined to try.
“Three diamonds lets you out,” Jameson said—again, tohimself. “Three.There are always three.If not diamonds, then something else. Obsidian and white agate.”
“What are you looking for?” Grayson asked. “Are you okay? Jamie—did something happen?”
No response, so Lyra gave it a try. “We’re looking for a box that belonged to Alice.” The nameAliceseemed to break through to Jameson, if only slightly. “Your grandfather made it for her, for Alice to keep her secrets in.”
“Still saying the name, I see.” Jameson’s voice wasn’t sharp, not exactly. He drew a ragged breath. “She told me to come back here—Alice.” Jameson’s voice went soft in volume but not in tone. His tone matched that ragged breath. “She wrote me a message:Go home, dear boy.I thought it was a warning at first, but then…”
Jameson pressed a palm flat against the chamber wall, then applied pressure, and a small square of obsidian rotated to white agate. “Echoes,” Jameson murmured. “From her games to the old man’s, from his to ours—Avery’s and mine. We used card suits in the Grandest Game. He used them many times over the years.”
Hearing Jameson say Avery’s name had an obvious effect on Grayson, one that had Lyra sliding in next to him as Jameson frenetically tried out different patterns on the chamber wall.
