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“For me? Owen. Your bloody cats. Hari Anand. Your own mother. Take your pick. There are dozens of us who love you and want you happy. Happy and safe and you’re off chasing danger at the first sign.”

I let out a huff of annoyance. “That’s unfair. I am trying to live, Ruan. Honestly trying. Besides, you heard Félix yesterday. These people are in trouble. I have to help them and if in helping them I can help my mother then so be it.”

“I know…” he said softly, the muscles in his jaw working. “But what if he’s lying to you? What if she’s truly dead and it’s a trap?”

His words were a slap in the face and I hated him for voicing it. I’d been avoiding thinking that very thought since the first bubble of hope surfaced within me.

Ruan turned back to argue, but as he caught sight of my swollen lip, his breath caught on a hitch.

My fingers rose to the sore spot. “What … what is it?”

He made a strange sound. “What is it not? We have yet another witch here—one I cannot sense. You and I are arguing over absolutely nothing. We have a murderer running loose leaving bodies in lakes and you…”

“I…?”

Ruan let out a strangled sound. “Gods, woman, I cannot stay angry at you, even when I want to. This isn’t about me, none of it is. I couldn’t care less if you got me killed. I’d walk willingly into that fire if that’s what I must do—but the thought of you not drawing your next breath is more than I can bear.” He took a step closer, brushing my cheek with his hand, and shook his head. “Promise me you’ll be careful…”

The edge of my mouth curved up in an inappropriate smile. Perhaps we were not entirely at odds after all. I patted him on the chest, fingers digging into the hard muscle there. His shirt damp from splitting logs. “I love you too—you great bloody ox—but I need you to trust me.”

His nostrils flared. “Trusting you isn’t the problem. I’m worried you’re going to get yourself killed, or worse.”

I opened my mouth to ask him what, exactly, is worse than death, but Ruan carried on all on his own.

“Félix is most certainly of the otherworld. There’s no doubt on it. You’ve got two clairvoyants in that hospital. Based solely upon the newspaper stories of her, the killer must believe your mother has something unusual about her too. Then we have the child. If someone killed her mother and is willing to continue killing to keep the truth of the girl’s parentage secret … this is big. Bigger than you or me.”

“Do you think the child is special?”

Ruan nodded with a frown. “Perhaps another clairvoyant or a medium? They can certainly come in handy during times of war.”

I shivered at the thought. “You believe our killer is aware of the otherworld then…”

He nodded. “I don’t see another explanation. They must.”

“Are you worried they’ll find out about you?”

Ruan made a strangled sound in his chest, taking my face in his roughened palms. “I’m worried they’ll find out about you, you little fool.”

I let out a laugh, pulling away from him. “That’s preposterous. I’m an antiquarian. Why would they—”

Ruan stared at me, brows raised as if he could not believe I was asking this question.

“What?”

Ruan shook his head, laughing softly beneath his breath. “I wonder sometimes which of us is the great bloody ox.” He pressed a kiss to my lips. “You go to the children’s home. See what you can find there, then I’ll meet you at the power station in two hours. For the sooner we can solve this mystery—the sooner we can go home.”

Home. A word that carried with it myriad meanings. A thing I once longed for in my very bones, and yet now I had two of them. The one I’d created with Mr. Owen in Exeter—and this new one that went wherever Ruan and I did. I could not agree more.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURDead Ends and Dead Men

I left Ruan to finish splitting his logs and started up the lane to the priory. He assured me he would meet me at the powerhouse just as soon as he finished helping Mrs. Wauters and cleaned up. Part of me wondered if he was letting me come here to prove he trusted me. Or perhaps to make amends for our argument. Either way, it was far easier to gain access to the children’s home as a woman alone.

The priory green was quiet this morning save for the bells of the priory church marking the hour.

I glanced across the empty green toward the hospital. Perhaps I could use the quiet to slip in unnoticed and speak with Félix? But how would I manage to find him, and what’s more—what state would he be in if I did? My odds of managing to get in and then locate his room were slim. Even slimmer that he’d be in any condition to speak with me. He’d been so overwrought last night at the lake. The memory of his cries still echoed in my mind. He was the key to it all. I knew he was, but I needed to be patient. The chance would come again. It had to.

Drawing in a bracing breath, I jogged the last few steps across the dewy grass to the children’s home and rapped upon the main door. The windows were shuttered for a storm, closing off all view of the priory green. I did not recall them having been closed last time I was here, or perhaps I hadn’t been paying attention. A frisson of worry sizzled up my spine as I rapped again.

Voices sounded from the other side. Children’s laughter and footsteps retreating as the door slowly opened to reveal the young sister I’d seen before. The same one who helped take them to mass the other morning with Sister Marie-Thérèse. Wren-like and young, worry crossed her face as she studied me.