Lake Silence

CHAPTER 72

Ilya

Watersday, Sumor 8

“Ilya? It’s Vicki. Julian says something doesn’t feel right on Main Street. I thought you should know.”

He looked at the rest of the Sanguinati who had come in to report a different kind of feeling. Something dangerous. Something lethal.

“Problem?” Natasha asked.

“Yes. Boris, please bring the car. We need to get to Sproing.” Easier to travel in his smoke form, but the car would be necessary if he needed to quickly extract Victoria from the village.

The phone rang before he took a step away from the desk. “Yes?”

“It’s Julian Farrow. Someone driving a Bristol police car abducted Vicki. The car was last seen heading west, so it could be heading toward one of the four-lane roads that provide access to bigger cities.”

“But you think it’s heading for The Jumble.” Ilya wasn’t asking a question.

“Yeah. We’re on our way there.”

Ilya hung up and hurried out to the lodge’s multilevel deck, going down to the lowest level.

“Do you still need the car?” Boris asked.

On the other side of the lake, he saw the Crowgard flying up in alarm. “No. It’s too late for that.”

Where would they take Victoria? Farrow and Grimshaw—because he understood that was what Farrow had meant by “we”—would aim for the main house. But killing could be done anywhere.

Just before he changed to smoke to race across the lake and help with the hunt, Natasha grabbed his arm and said, “Look.”

Shapes in the water.

He wanted to argue. After all, turning The Jumble back into a viable terra indigene settlement was the Sanguinati’s responsibility—his responsibility—and that included keeping watch over the vulnerable human who was caretaker and Reader. But he knew better than to disobey a command when it came from one of them.

“Ilya?” Boris asked.

“We wait.” The words tasted bitter.

“But our enemies are over there,” Natasha protested.

He nodded. “So are the Elders.”