Her stomach clenched. “That’s why you were watching out the window?”
“Yes.”
She went over to the windows, murmuring, “Pardon me,” to Ashe, who moved to let her look out. The thick square windowpanes were small and dirty, and the view through the antique glass was wavery and distorted, but she could still see the familiar tall, broad-shouldered figure who stood on the lawn, about twenty yards away.
Morgan had his arms crossed, and he studied the house with his chin tucked down. On either side of him, both men and Hounds stretched as far as she could see. She didn’t have to see for herself to know they would have surrounded the entire house.
Ashe said, “He’s been out there like that since dawn. Trying to figure out a way in, I expect.”
Nikolas put a hand on her shoulder. Turning to him, she said, “I’m ready.”
He handed her a backpack. “Lead the way. Where do you want to start?”
Immediately she turned to walk down the hall where she had found the first shift. “We know this one is here. And we know of the one in the courtyard. Let’s get those marked first, then we’ll move on.” Telepathically she asked, Why did you set watches?
He said, The house might not be in alignment with the land outside, but once those front doors are open, anybody can pass through. They can either go in—or out. And anybody from the inside can open the doors. I tested it myself yesterday.
She frowned. You’re thinking the traitor might try to open them and let the enemy in—or get out?
I’d say that was a distinct possibility. As soon as that thought occurred to me, I got up and kept watch until the others woke up.
The heaviness that had weighed her down since waking lifted somewhat. I didn’t hear you leave.
Good. I didn’t want to disturb you. You needed the rest.
She was so focused on him she almost forgot to watch for the place where she had felt the shift until they had almost stepped over it.
“Wait!” she said, grabbing his arm. “We’re here.”
The hall looked the same in both directions. Nikolas frowned. “I can’t sense it.”
“Maybe this one is a smaller shift, and you’ll be able to sense a bigger one,” she said. She frowned. “How are we going to measure what happens on either side of a shift? We can see the hall clearly—just like we can see the house from outside—but there will be a difference once we step to the other side.”
“I think one of us needs to step over, while the other stays on this side,” Nikolas told her. “Then we each count to ten. We can practice how fast we count so that we’re keeping the same time. The first one who hit ten reaches for the other one. Since clocks don’t work, it’s not going to be an exact measurement, but it will give us an idea of what to expect.”
“Okay, let’s try it.”
They practiced the beat of the count a few times, then Nikolas told her, “See you on the other side.”
He stepped over the shift, and she started to count. When she hit seven, he reached for her hand and stepped to her side again. “That is so strange,” she muttered.
“What number did you hit?” he asked.
“Seven, and we couldn’t have been counting that far off from each other. So this means down the hall that way, time flows faster than it does over here and in the great hall.” Kneeling, she opened her pack and pulled out a small can of white paint and a brush. “They didn’t get colors.”
“I don’t think they understood what you wanted.”
She gave him a sidelong grin. “Doesn’t matter. We can just number the zones.”
Nikolas pulled out a pad of paper and sketched as she painted a line across the hall, then to one side by the wall, she painted 7:10. “The seven is on this side of the shift. The colon is the shift itself, and the ten is on the other side. Make sense?”
He nodded. “It does.” He pointed down the hall. “One thing—we don’t want to number that zone. We might go all the way around the house and come at this hall from the other side. If we label that ‘zone two’ right now and keep numbering zones as we find the shifts, this area might end up getting labeled ‘zone nine’ on the other side. To avoid confusion, I think the only zone we can label right now is the great hall.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” She sat back on her heels. “So the only things we should map right now are the floor plan and the shifts. We can label everything afterward.”
“Right.” He squatted beside her, leaned forward, and gave her a quick, hard kiss.
Hey. That wasn’t playing by any of the rules either one of them had set up. She scowled, disturbed, maybe a little angry, and maybe more than a little delighted. “Stop that.”
“I need to hear you say it.” Nikolas’s dark eyes were intense, heated, and far too close for her comfort. “Say, ‘Nikolas, I want you to stop that.’”
He wanted to hear the truth or falsehood in what she said. “No. I’m not going to play your games.”
“I’m not playing any games, remember?”
Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. Turning her face away, she stood as she asked, “Then what the hell are you doing?”
“I can’t leave you alone. I don’t want to.” He rose to stand beside her, still too close. “I heard the lie in your voice when you said last night was the last night.”
“Yes.”
She went over to the windows, murmuring, “Pardon me,” to Ashe, who moved to let her look out. The thick square windowpanes were small and dirty, and the view through the antique glass was wavery and distorted, but she could still see the familiar tall, broad-shouldered figure who stood on the lawn, about twenty yards away.
Morgan had his arms crossed, and he studied the house with his chin tucked down. On either side of him, both men and Hounds stretched as far as she could see. She didn’t have to see for herself to know they would have surrounded the entire house.
Ashe said, “He’s been out there like that since dawn. Trying to figure out a way in, I expect.”
Nikolas put a hand on her shoulder. Turning to him, she said, “I’m ready.”
He handed her a backpack. “Lead the way. Where do you want to start?”
Immediately she turned to walk down the hall where she had found the first shift. “We know this one is here. And we know of the one in the courtyard. Let’s get those marked first, then we’ll move on.” Telepathically she asked, Why did you set watches?
He said, The house might not be in alignment with the land outside, but once those front doors are open, anybody can pass through. They can either go in—or out. And anybody from the inside can open the doors. I tested it myself yesterday.
She frowned. You’re thinking the traitor might try to open them and let the enemy in—or get out?
I’d say that was a distinct possibility. As soon as that thought occurred to me, I got up and kept watch until the others woke up.
The heaviness that had weighed her down since waking lifted somewhat. I didn’t hear you leave.
Good. I didn’t want to disturb you. You needed the rest.
She was so focused on him she almost forgot to watch for the place where she had felt the shift until they had almost stepped over it.
“Wait!” she said, grabbing his arm. “We’re here.”
The hall looked the same in both directions. Nikolas frowned. “I can’t sense it.”
“Maybe this one is a smaller shift, and you’ll be able to sense a bigger one,” she said. She frowned. “How are we going to measure what happens on either side of a shift? We can see the hall clearly—just like we can see the house from outside—but there will be a difference once we step to the other side.”
“I think one of us needs to step over, while the other stays on this side,” Nikolas told her. “Then we each count to ten. We can practice how fast we count so that we’re keeping the same time. The first one who hit ten reaches for the other one. Since clocks don’t work, it’s not going to be an exact measurement, but it will give us an idea of what to expect.”
“Okay, let’s try it.”
They practiced the beat of the count a few times, then Nikolas told her, “See you on the other side.”
He stepped over the shift, and she started to count. When she hit seven, he reached for her hand and stepped to her side again. “That is so strange,” she muttered.
“What number did you hit?” he asked.
“Seven, and we couldn’t have been counting that far off from each other. So this means down the hall that way, time flows faster than it does over here and in the great hall.” Kneeling, she opened her pack and pulled out a small can of white paint and a brush. “They didn’t get colors.”
“I don’t think they understood what you wanted.”
She gave him a sidelong grin. “Doesn’t matter. We can just number the zones.”
Nikolas pulled out a pad of paper and sketched as she painted a line across the hall, then to one side by the wall, she painted 7:10. “The seven is on this side of the shift. The colon is the shift itself, and the ten is on the other side. Make sense?”
He nodded. “It does.” He pointed down the hall. “One thing—we don’t want to number that zone. We might go all the way around the house and come at this hall from the other side. If we label that ‘zone two’ right now and keep numbering zones as we find the shifts, this area might end up getting labeled ‘zone nine’ on the other side. To avoid confusion, I think the only zone we can label right now is the great hall.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” She sat back on her heels. “So the only things we should map right now are the floor plan and the shifts. We can label everything afterward.”
“Right.” He squatted beside her, leaned forward, and gave her a quick, hard kiss.
Hey. That wasn’t playing by any of the rules either one of them had set up. She scowled, disturbed, maybe a little angry, and maybe more than a little delighted. “Stop that.”
“I need to hear you say it.” Nikolas’s dark eyes were intense, heated, and far too close for her comfort. “Say, ‘Nikolas, I want you to stop that.’”
He wanted to hear the truth or falsehood in what she said. “No. I’m not going to play your games.”
“I’m not playing any games, remember?”
Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. Turning her face away, she stood as she asked, “Then what the hell are you doing?”
“I can’t leave you alone. I don’t want to.” He rose to stand beside her, still too close. “I heard the lie in your voice when you said last night was the last night.”
