“What was the date?” Ren asked with her heart in her throat. “When did Jacob die?”
“He lived to be ninety-three.”
Jacob had survived the newlings and then some! And if he’d lived, maybe others had too. Her lingering grief disappeared, washed away by a surge of relief.
“There’s more.” Munro retrieved an envelope from his pants pocket. “He remarried. You can read about him—”
Ren snatched the waxy envelope and removed a yellowed clipping to read:
Two years after returning to England from a long sojourn in Transylvania, twenty-seven-year-old widower Jacob Howard wed Esther Jean, a nurse he’d hired to care for his grandparents. Happily married for sixty-six years, the couple had five children and sixteen grandchildren. Jacob and Esther died within two weeks of each other.
The accompanying picture showed an aging Jacob beside his wife, the two surrounded by their family. Instead of gazing at the camera, he smiled down at Esther, who’d been caught midlaugh.
That woman, Esther Jean Howard, was Jacob’s beloved. He’d found her.
Ren’s eyes watered. He’s your good man, Esther.
Munro cleared his throat. “I ken what this means for you, lass. I imagine your existence as a proud tartan, frayed by too much wear, one thread short of unraveling.”
In an absent tone, she murmured, “What this means for me?”
“You canna bring Jacob forward with the ring. You canna take him from his kin.”
“Oh. No. I wouldn’t.” Though she’d already decided she couldn’t use the ring in such a way, this clipping was still life-altering. “One thing is strange in the wording. Jacob’s grandparents had all died. . . .” Realization struck. “Jake considered Vanda and Puideleu to be his grandparents. I think he took them with him to England!” As he’d told Ren he wanted to do. “That means at least three survived against the newlings.”
Munro sank back in his chair. “Then you were right. Without me in that timeline, mayhap fewer Lykae came or they arrived after you got more grenades. Your hunters would’ve handled them with enough munitions.”
“But you were right too. Jacob returned to England when he was twenty-five, which means I did die either in that battle or soon after it.”
Which means Munro saved my life. She placed the clipping back in its envelope, then laid it beside her teacup. “I need to go to the fairgrounds. I have to see it.” Returning to her last home was the only thing that could ground her, giving her a touchstone to sort through the highs and lows she continued to weather.
“Then I’ll get you there.” Voice gone gruff, he said, “You really loved him . . .” His words died away, tension stealing over him. “Something’s no’ right.”
Had the Instinct given him a warning, or had he scented something new?
He jumped up and charged to the window. Whatever he saw outside made him roar, “GET DOWN!”
THIRTY-SEVEN
A split second before Munro dove for his mate, Iona’s scream carried from a distance, “Take cover!”
He landed on the floor with Kereny clasped in his arms and yanked the table over them—just as a shockwave of flames tore the second story and more off the house.
Timbers groaned, the roar of destruction deafening.
“Munro, what’s happening?”
He kicked the blazing table off of them. “Fire demons! Bounty hunters.” As flames grew all around, he sprang to his feet with his mate in his arms. “We have to get out of here.”
“The forest! Go!”
“Aye. Keep your head down. One hit and you die.” Cradling Kereny, he bounded over the ruins of a wall and landed on the hill outside the smoking guesthouse.
“How many are there?”
As he sprinted toward the closest line of trees atop a ridge, he chanced a look over his shoulder. “At least four.” The demons were reloading, balls of flame building in their raised palms. More could be out of sight. Hell, the whole valley could be crawling with them. He dug deeper and increased his speed.
When he heard a fireball whistling behind him, he veered his direction, just escaping the blast. Then came another one. And another. He yelled, “The warlocks want us alive, you pricks!” Zigzagging, he gained elevation over the countryside.
Kereny said, “They’re going to corral us!”
The words were barely out of her mouth when he spied the demons tracing in all directions. “Hold on!” Gritting his teeth, he leapt for the distant ridgeline, vaulting through the air. He landed short of the top, clinging to the vertical edge.
Until the edge disappeared.
“Landslide!” Kereny cried, clutching him as he stabbed his claws into the earth; it fell away just as quickly.
Every time he sprang upward, more ground gave way. He couldn’t launch himself from air. Huge trees toppled above them. “Fuck!” He twisted left to dodge one, then right to avoid another. A glance up had him yelling, “Hold on, hold on!”
“I am!”
“No’ you—that!”
She craned her head, eyes going wide at the giant, teetering boulder. “Move your tail, wolf!”