“No, he wants to push Grunsday into the space filled by the other seven days.”
“Reverse it? Seven Grunsdays and one for everybody else?”
“Only Grunsday,” Miller corrected. “With the rest of time snipped out of reality.”
Jax felt a cold trickle down his spine. “Can that be done?”
“It’s been done before. There’re a lot of vanished civilizations in history—the Khmers, the Minoans, a long list of ancient American cultures . . . The Native Americans were really into magic.”
Some of this was familiar to Jax from that stupid show Riley liked. Is this why he was always watching it?
“Besides,” Miller went on, “a failure’s almost as bad as a success. Wylit tried this once before, and it backfired spectacularly. I don’t know how he got out alive, but the younger brother of your Emrys was killed in the attempt. Wylit’s spent the last couple decades looking for another member of her family so he can try again.”
“Her brother was killed?” Riley hadn’t told Jax that part. “Does she know?”
“Do you want to tell her? Riley couldn’t bring himself to do it, and it’s not my job. My job is to keep her out of Wylit’s hands. Or better yet, eliminate Wylit altogether.”
“Why didn’t you do it when you swore your fake oath to him?” Jax glared at Miller. Any guy who would encourage Riley to make a “first kill” and point a gun at Tegan shouldn’t have any trouble assassinating his new liege lord.
“I was under orders to let him live at that point,” Miller said, taking no offense at being presumed a killer. “He’s not the only bad Kin guy out there, and we were hoping he’d lead us to others. Now that things have taken a turn for the worse, I don’t know where he is. John Balin’s paranoid about security—keeps us other vassals in the dark about details. He won’t tell me where he’s stashed Emrys or where the spell-casting ceremony’s supposed to take place. He doles out information on a need-to-know basis, and he’s never liked me because your father introduced us and later betrayed him.”
Jax flinched at that. These people killed my dad. I can’t forget that. “What should I do?” Jax asked.
“Try to stay alive.”
“Can you get my dagger back?”
Miller shook his head. “You’ll have to convince Balin to give it back yourself.” Before Jax could ask how, Miller said, “Let me tell you about the Balins. They’re hereditary vassals.” When Jax shook his head, Miller explained impatiently, “They’re born vassals, because some idiot Balin in the Middle Ages swore to the Wylit bloodline and bound all his descendants to the oath. They’re insanely loyal, but they like to pick up recruits with useful talents, because the only Balin talent is having a head like a rock.”
“A what?”
“I can’t get into their heads. You can’t get in. Riley wouldn’t be able to make any of them wiggle a finger. They’re impervious to outside magical influence, and they take this hereditary oath very seriously.” Miller poked Jax in the middle of his chest. “Convince John Balin you’re devoted to Emrys, and you’ll win him over.”
“I am devoted to her,” Jax said angrily. “And her name is Evangeline.”
“I don’t want to know her name. I have a mission to complete.” Miller held up one finger. “Option one: Kill Wylit.” A second finger. “Option two: Rescue Emrys.” Then he threw out both hands, as if in surrender. “Final option: Kill Emrys before Wylit can use her.”
“No,” said Jax. “No.” He clenched his fists. “You can’t. Riley said if she dies, it might extinguish Grunsday and all the people in it.”
Miller walked toward the door. “We think there’s another hidden Emrys to hold the spell, but even if there isn’t, it can’t be helped. We Transitioners will survive it either way, but if it’s a question of sacrificing a few thousand Kin versus seven billion Normals, then I’ll do what I’ve got to do.” He glanced over his shoulder as he opened the door. “I might not like it, but I don’t have a choice.”
Miller closed the door behind him. Jax dropped into the swivel chair and looked at the smoking papers on the desk. For a few precious minutes, Jax had thought somebody braver and smarter than he was going to rescue both him and Evangeline.
Now his hopes were a smoldering mess, just like that folder.
“Did that guy hurt you?” Tegan asked in the morning. She was waiting for Jax beside the Land Rover.
“No.”
“What’d he want?”
Jax couldn’t trust her with the truth. “To question me.”
“He smelled sick,” Tegan said. “Not diseased. Sick like—broken. That’s what I told John Balin.”
“You told him what?”
“Balin wanted to know what Owens smelled like. He said that’s why he brought me here—to tell him what I thought of Owens.”
Jax blinked rapidly. Balin had said he wanted Miller’s assessment of Jax and Tegan. Had it been the other way round? Did Balin suspect Miller was a traitor? Jax looked around. Balin was giving orders to his brother, Angus. Miller was nowhere in sight. Jax turned back to Tegan. “You shouldn’t tell Balin anything!”
Tegan narrowed her green eyes. “You mean I should just suck up to him like you do? My lady this, my lady that . . . all that vassal crap he likes so much.”
“Look.” Jax grabbed her arm. “He’s trying to recruit you. Don’t use your talent for him.”
She pulled away. “I do what keeps me alive and loose and ready to run. I know how to survive in this world better than you do. I don’t need you jumping between me and guns.”
“Well, I promise never to do it again!” Jax snapped, looking over her shoulder. John Balin was walking toward them.
“Donovan.” He took her by the arm, steering her away from Jax. “You’re coming with me.”
Meanwhile, Angus threw open the rear passenger door of the Land Rover. “In,” he ordered Jax.
They were being separated. First Evangeline. Now Tegan. And Miller—Jax scanned the area again. There was no way to warn Miller that Tegan had been used against him. He looked at Angus. “Where are you taking me?”
Angus folded his arms, stone-faced. “Get in the car, Aubrey.”
Jax looked up into this man’s cold eyes and imagined him behind the wheel of a car on a dark night, swerving viciously into the side of another vehicle. Then he did as he was told.
On Monday night, Jax was driven across the border into Mexico.
He didn’t hold out much hope they’d be stopped at Immigration, and they weren’t. An official stamped a passport with a picture bearing no resemblance to Jax and handed it back without question. He had followed Angus Balin to the car, angry that he hadn’t realized the significance of the pesos mixed in with the money Tegan had stolen from the farmhouse. Where was that talent for information I’m supposed to have? Jax could’ve told Miller, maybe given him an idea where they were headed—but instead he’d been too much of an idiot to recognize a clue when he saw one.
Miller was Jax’s best hope of rescue, but that gave him little comfort. The final option. Did Riley agree? That killing Evangeline might become their only choice?
But he didn’t know if Miller would catch up with them anyway. He’d seen no one but Ugly Angus since Friday, and he only had John Balin’s word that Jax would be present when they let Evangeline out of that casket on Grunsday. He had long since given up asking Angus questions—where they were going or what had happened to Tegan. He didn’t dare ask about Miller.