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Priest clamped the cigar tightly as he tossed the remaining bag into the huge pile of crap that would now have to be dragged to the front for garbage collection.
“It means that no matter your origin, there is always room to fail . . . to fall.”
Rowan studied Priest, thinking the entire conversation had been one circle of freaking confusion. She decided to change tactics and go with a hunch.
“Why is Bill your boss? What makes him so special?”
Priest’s mouth thinned, and she knew by the very silence that fell between them she’d been correct. She arched a brow and opened her mouth, but his expression changed as his eyes shifted behind her. Gone was easy, and it was replaced with something dark.
Rowan turned and spied Hannah lingering near the fountain that stood beside the garden path. Nico was a few inches behind her, as well as Vicki, Terre, and Abigail. The jaguar shifter was solemn, his hard eyes averted, but Rowan’s gut twisted at the look on her cousin’s face. On all their faces.
Something bad had happened.
“Ro,” Hannah paused and bent over. “Oh God.”
“What is it? Hannah, you’re scaring me.” Rowan rushed to her side and rubbed her cousin’s back. Her first thought was for her mother, which startled her so much she stumbled, her feet tripping over themselves.
Hannah slowly straightened, her eyes now brimming with tears. “Clare didn’t make it to the airport.”
“What do you mean?” The fist in Rowan’s gut churned again, and a wave of nausea rolled over her.
Hannah shook her head, her large blue eyes swimming in pain. “She was found in the city, some back alley near the downtown core. She never even made it out of Dublin.”
“Found?” Rowan asked dully.
“She’s dead, Ro. It was him. I just got off the phone with the police. She was . . . oh God.” Nico stepped forward, his harsh features twisted as he stood behind Hannah, hands fisted, cold eyes fierce.
“The police said the attack was savage, judging by the . . . the amount of trauma, they feel it was personal. The sergeant said there was a mark carved into her chest. He described it to me.” Hannah’s voice broke. “It looks like your mark,” she whispered. “Mallick’s mark.”
For a second only white noise rushed through Rowan’s ears. The buzzing was intense, and Rowan stepped back, horrified. Clare was twenty-five. Twenty-five.
“What about Simone?” she finally asked.
Hannah glanced back at her cousins. Terre shook her head, her curls bouncing crazily around her face. “We can’t get hold of her.”
Hannah grabbed Rowan’s hands. “It doesn’t look good.”
Rowan was silent, letting the pain inside expand and touch every cell in her body. Her breathing slowed, and her chest constricted. As the wall of hurt rolled through her veins she clenched her fists and took a step back. The wind picked up, tossing whatever leaves had escaped Priest high into the air.
One large golden maple leaf caught her attention as it swirled in the air—a fall jewel amidst the dreary brown and gray. She focused on it and let the pain grow as large as it could. Until she thought she would break apart from the force of it.
Her grandmother’s face drifted in front of her, a hazy, familiar image, and yet it was distorted. Cara’s mouth moved. What was she saying? Was that Patsy Cline Rowan heard?
Rowan thought of what Cara’s final moments would have been. What had she felt? Terror. Pain. Sadness. Where was she now? Was her Nana in this place that Priest had spoken of? The gray place? The in-between place?
The pain grew until Rowan’s jaw ached from pressure. Until the ground trembled beneath her feet. Until the flagstones cracked, and large gaping rifts sliced through the newly raked lawn. The roaring in her ears intensified until she covered them and bent over.
“Hold on to your faith, Rowan. You need it now more than ever.” Priest’s words filled her mind, but she ignored them, and they faded just like everything else. Except the pain.
Still the pain grew, like a worm twisting inside her. It didn’t stop until she was sick all over the newly turned earth.
And then it was quiet.
She slowly straightened and wiped her mouth, her hard eyes on Priest as she walked past him without speaking.
To hold on to faith meant you had it in the first place. Rowan was empty inside. She’d lost hers a lifetime ago.
Chapter 23
