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“Even yours?”
He scooped up my forearm into his strong hand. “If it keeps you safe, if it makes you vigilant, then yes. Doubt me as well.” I tugged on my arm, and he released his grasp. “Show me the paper you hold. Please.”
In spite of his own warning to trust no one, I couldn’t bring myself to doubt his goodwill. I handed the card and the letter over to Emmet, who examined them minutely, as if they were a palimpsest whose secret text would reveal itself under scrutiny.
“I’m afraid that’s all she wrote,” I said.
“It would be foolhardy to attend,” Emmet said as he returned the papers to me.
“But I must. This could be my only hope of bringing Maisie home. Besides, if any of what my mother has said is true, she gave her life for this.”
“Perhaps it is true. And perhaps this letter is from your mother,” he said, pausing to consider his words. “But consider this: a woman capable of faking her own death once could certainly do so again.” I had not allowed this thought to surface in my mind, but now that it had arisen, I could not deny the possibility, even though I know what it meant. If she had done such a thing, I meant nothing to her. Emmet allowed me no time for reflection, no respite for my conflicted emotions. “I must inform you that your Aunt Ellen has gone missing. Neither Iris nor Oliver is overly concerned, as she has begun drinking again. Evidently, they consider disappearing part of her standard drinking behavior.”
I nodded. “That much is true, I’m afraid.”
“I am not so sure this time. I know you love her. Your devotion to her is evident, but for your own safety”—he seemed to sense my growing determination to knock down anything he might say against Ellen, so he went for the big guns—“and for the safety of your child, you have to consider that Ellen herself may have arranged Tucker Perry’s assassination to throw you off guard and lure you to Tillandsia.”
“No,” I said. I found it unthinkable that Ellen would do such a thing. When it came down to it, I felt a much stronger need to defend her than I did my own mother. “She loved Tucker, and she would have no motive for hurting me.”
“And you once believed that your sister loved Jackson, and that she’d never want to hurt you either.” That stung, especially since he was voicing my own repressed fears. “Listen to me,” he said, with an anxiety that I’d never heard before in his voice. “If Emily is truly dead—and I still think that’s questionable—who would have reason to kill her? Who was harmed most by your mother’s actions? Who else has been participating in Tillandsia all these years? Who knew the truth about the power generated by the group? Who would have the power to turn those same forces against your mother? Against you? Who else is a strong enough witch to turn that Ryder buffoon into a collector?”
“All right. Stop.” No longer caring that I might be seen, I crossed my arms and willed myself home. I found myself in the garden, Emmet still by my side. How he had managed to attach himself to me was a question for a later time. I scanned the house and garden to see if anyone was home, but we had the place to ourselves.
“I ask that you consider what I’ve said. Whoever gave the order to cause the dome to fall could at best be considered indifferent to your well-being. Perhaps you are correct in your convictions. Perhaps Ellen is an innocent.”
“She is.”
“If that is indeed the case, then you should question why Oliver is so eager to get his hands on the power that has been built up by Tillandsia.”
“He wants to use it to help Maisie,” I said, my growing irritation playing in my voice. “That’s his only interest in Tillandsia. And what do you have to say about Iris?”
“Well, your aunt is a widow now. Don’t you think it is possible that she may in some part blame you for that? No, it may be that your aunts and uncle love you and want to protect you, but are you willing to bet your life on it? Your child’s life?”
I considered his words. Yes. Yes, I would bet my own life on trusting my family, at least what remained of it, in spite of Maisie, in spite of Ginny, and in spite of my mother’s accusations against them. But no, I could not, would not, risk little Colin’s life by betting on any of them. “You’re right. I can’t take the risk.” There had been too many lies, whether well-intentioned or no. “I’m afraid there’s only one person I trust that deeply.” His black eyes warmed with hope, and I felt bad dousing their light. “I’m sorry, but I’m talking about Jilo.”
He covered his disappointment by tilting his head and trying to look as if he had just learned an interesting clinical fact. “Then we shall request her assistance.”
“I’m not sure she will help.” I’d never thought anything could frighten Jilo, but she had been terrified by what had happened with the gray rainbow. “And I’m not even sure what it is you are proposing.”
“The old woman will do anything you ask,” he said, and then added, “I think you are right to place your trust in her.” He crossed the garden and leaned over to touch the rose quartz in the flowerbed. It glowed as brightly as a lightbulb. “If I cannot dissuade you from attending Tillandsia tonight, then I propose we do what your uncle suggested, what your mother requested. Reach out and take control of the power of Tillandsia. We’ll do it without your family. We will do it on our own.”
“Okay, and then what?”
“We drain the power from Tillandsia and store it elsewhere, put it in our pocket so to speak, for use when we have a clearer view of who is pulling the strings and working against us. We use it to protect you. Then, once we know where we stand, I will not interfere with you retrieving your sister, assuming there is enough power remaining.”
“Assuming that there is power, and that we can access it, how or where could we store it?”
“Your friend Jilo has vacated her haint-blue cell. She designed it to hold energy.”
I thought about that. Of all the people I knew, Jilo had the most expertise when it came to siphoning off energy and finding a way to store it. At least since Ginny had died and stopped draining off my own power. “I will contact her and ask her to help. I have to do something.”
“I will do whatever I can to support you.” His eyes crinkled a bit. “But there’s one final aspect we must consider.”
“And that would be?”
“Your uncle seemed convinced that the only way to tap into Tillandsia’s power would be to enter into a sexual ecstasy.”
