“Goodbye, Father,” he said.
And a violent wall of water came rushing across the marsh, and the soldiers outside the compartment saw it coming too late. They only had enough time to slide back the door, to pull their Head of House into the aisle and bury him in their own bodies.
And when it hit, the train was barreled from its tracks. Windows buckled. Shouts were replaced by the titanic groan of water.
Theo and Polly tumbled and rolled with the momentum of the train.
But Theo did not let Polly slip from his grasp.
The water cradled them like a blanket.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONEPATRICK
Patrick carried Nina not to Trunk Antiques, but away from Lavnonshire.
She was shivering by the time they reached the marsh. Larks soared overhead like demons, and the stars winked themselves out, not caring to witness them sludging through the wet taproots.
Tunnels were no good. No point trekking back the way they’d come. They would have to venture on until they found a boatman dumb enough or scared enough to hand over his vessel.
Here and there, Patrick stumbled in the bog under Nina’s weight, John cursed and lit a cigarette from a seemingly endless supply, and Nina didn’t speak. Patrick counted the seconds passing in silence and waited.
“You went in,” John finally uttered, when it seemed he could remain silent no longer. He pulled forcefully at his own collar where it rubbed against the burnt ring around his neck. “Against all fuckin’ reason, Patty. You went in.”
Patrick ground his molars together. There wasn’t a single mite of patience left in him. “Your thoughts on what I do no longer have much bearing on me.”
“Iwent in,” Nina said in a voice not quite present. Her face rested against Patrick’s sternum.
John groaned, pulling a moth-eaten cap from his head and slapping his thigh in frustration. “Followin’ her into the fuckin’ fray again,” he muttered to the sky. “You didn’t think tostopher?”
He’d thought about it plenty. “No one stops her,” he said, blood boiling. “No one takes her liberty away.”
“God havemercy! She almost got us all fuckin’killed, Pat!”
Nina lifted her head suddenly, pushed away from him. “I can walk,” she said.
He put her on her feet. She seemed unsteady, teetering. One gust of wind might carry her off. “I’m sorry,” she said to them both. Her cheeks were tear-stained. Her fists balled, and she was trembling in the chill of the night.
Patrick felt murder come over him. “No,” he said. “Don’t apologize.”
“You told me not to go,” she said blankly, as though every ounce of energy had been wrung from her. “It was stupid.”
“I don’t care, darlin’.”
“I didn’t listen.”
He put his hands on his hips and breathed out heavily, trying to warp his face into something that would calm her. “And when have you ever listened?”
She didn’t smile. Didn’t lift her eyes to his. She stayed swallowed by that which had gradually consumed her from the day her mother swung.
“They burned Polly’s hands,” she said, her lip trembling.
He nodded. The unraveling had arrived.
“They took the book.”
“It’s all right. We’ll figure something out. There’s a fix, I promise.”
“They’ll have the Seam,” Nina said.
