"Someone's here?"
A long pause, and I thought she was considering it. But her gaze stayed fixed on the window, straining to see. Not thinking of an answer--she probably hadn't even heard the question.
Something in the garden. The empty garden vacated by the cops, but still off-limits to anyone in the house.
Voice neutral, I said, "Do you think we should investigate?"
Another long pause. I was about to repeat myself when she strode to the door.
"I'll go," she said. "You stay here."
"Hold--"
I grabbed the door before she could get it open. Her head swung my way, eyes filled with a fury that made my stomach go cold. I stood my ground, and again she blinked it back.
"Something's happening," she said. "I have to go."
"We aren't supposed to leave the house."
"I have to go." Each word was icy with warning. A shudder, then she looked at me. "You'll be fine. Just stay here. Whatever happens, stay here."
She tried yanking open the door, but my foot acted as a stopper. "What good will that do? You have the gun."
A flare of frustration, jaw setting, then another hard blink. She yanked the gun from her waistband and slapped it into my hands.
"There. Now--" She jerked the door so hard I stumbled back. "Stay here."
EVE WAS right. This was a setup. If Hope really was chasing some "chaos event" in the garden, she wouldn't leave her gun behind.
But if it was a setup, why give her weapon to me? Maybe it wasn't loaded. Clever ploy. Let me think I was armed, so I wouldn't try to escape or fight when someone came for me.
I turned the gun over in my hands, trying to figure out whether there was any ammunition. It was an automatic. Marksmanship was one of Jeremy's hobbies, mainly bows and rifles, but he had a pair of revolvers and had shown me how to use them once. Had this been a revolver, I'd have been in luck. As it was, I had no clue. Even if I could tell whether it had ammo, the gun might be buggered up so it wouldn't fire.
But why leave me in a house filled with potential witnesses...and security guards? I'd offered to come along. Why not just say "sure"?
Maybe because that wasn't May's plan and Hope didn't dare mess with the plan. But why not try to convince me to go with Jeremy in the first place?
I remembered when Jeremy first asked Hope to stay with me. She'd wanted to argue. I recalled Karl, carefully studying her reaction. Maybe her expression had suggested she was up to something, and when she'd seen his suspicion, she hadn't dared argue. So May had switched to a backup plan--this one.
Did that make sense?
Damn it! In my gut, I didn't believe Hope would turn on me. Even seeing that flare of anger in her eyes hadn't changed that.
But I couldn't ignore the possibility. I needed to get out of this room.
I WENT downstairs with every intention of hanging out with the guards. But then I started to wonder whether that was safe. We knew these people had magic, including something like a binding spell. Would human security guards, ignorant of the supernatural, be able to protect me? Could they get killed trying?
Even if sticking close to big men with guns convinced the group to keep its distance, it wouldn't resolve the question of Hope's allegiance. If she was on May's side, she'd just try again, another way, and maybe that time I wouldn't see through the ploy.
The only way to know was to follow her.
AS I slipped out the side door, I eased the gun out and wrapped my hand around the grip, finger on the trigger. It would help if I knew how to fire it. I told myself it didn't matter. As Eve would say, bluffing is enough. Act as if you can shoot it--and more important, will shoot it--and that should give any would-be attacker pause.
I slid through the shadows along the side of the house, heading for the rear. Ahead, a yellow ribbon of crime-scene tape waved in the breeze, broken from its moorings, as if someone had walked right through it. Hope? Breaking the tape hardly seemed wise, but if not her, then who? Last time I'd looked, the officers guarding the gardens had retreated to their cruiser.
I darted behind a hedge, then stood on tiptoes to see over it. There, about a dozen feet ahead, Hope walked into the garden with the slow, deliberate pace of a sleepwalker.
"What the hell are you doing?"