Blackbird Crowned (The Witch King's Crown #3) - Keri Arthur Page 0,26

knives had knocked me out more than once, and if that happened this time, it would land me in Darkside hands.

“We both know they’re not actually going to release Mia,” I added, “no matter what else happens.”

“Not unless you force the issue.”

“How the hell am I going to force the issue when they’re holding the only card that matters?”

“You’re the only card that matters. So you walk onto the island via the bridge rather than flying over, and you stop halfway and tell them to release Mia or you go no further.”

“They’ll just kill her.” Or, even worse, start consuming her while I watched. Bile rose, and I swallowed heavily, trying to ignore the images crowding my mind. Unfortunately, they were derived from memory rather than imagination—from the mass of bloody destruction that lay within the hecatomb we’d discovered. Those deaths might have been the result of human lives being traded for information, but I had no doubt Mia’s bones would be picked just as clean.

“Oh, I don’t think they will,” Mo said.

There was a note in her voice that had my eyebrows rising. “You have a plan to stop them?”

“I always have a plan, my dear. You should know that by now.”

I smiled at her words, though in truth they did little to calm the inner fears. Nothing would. Not until Mia was out of Darkside’s hands.

But we had a good five hours of driving before we got anywhere near Ainslyn, let alone King Island, and that meant there was plenty of time to learn exactly what she had in mind.

We pulled into the parking area just as the first wisps of pink stained the evening sky. There was only one other car there, and it sat at the far end of the lot, well hidden from anyone who might be watching from the island or the bridge.

As Mo drove toward it, the vehicle’s doors opened, and two men and a woman got out. The men were both members of Ainslyn’s witch council, and I knew one of them rather well, thanks to the fact I’d dated his son for most of my teenage and adult life. I had no idea yet if Jun and his wife—May—had been informed of Tris’s death, but the lack of grief in his face suggested not. Perhaps the preternatural division didn’t want to risk the news getting out while they were still attempting to trace all of Tris’s Darkside contacts.

The woman wasn’t anyone I’d seen before, but she was a sharpshooter Mo had apparently worked with in the past. Why she’d needed such a service was something she hadn’t clarified.

We parked next to the other car and then climbed out. I was still wearing Mo’s oversized sweater, but it was now teamed with the black leggings and singlet top we’d found in a thrift shop just off the A30 near Launceston. Neither of us had wanted to waste time heading into the city’s heart to hunt for something more suitable. To be honest, I’d have pulled on my sodden clothes if it had come down to it.

Mo stopped beside the taller of the two men and thrust her hands on her hips, her expression contemplative as she studied the barely visible shore. “Everything set, Tim?”

He nodded. He was probably ten years older than me, and very much a Valeriun in looks—silvery hair that glinted with blue highlights in the evening light and eyes the color of the deepest, darkest seas. “I’ve placed the dingy on the island’s shore and will reel it back once she’s climbed aboard.”

“And the three two-ways I requested?”

He handed her a box. “The one with the red dot is set to receive only, as you requested.”

She opened the box then handed me the red-dotted radio and an earpiece. The second one she gave to the woman, and the third she kept. She glanced across to Tris’s dad. “Jun?”

“There’re currently seven on the island. Six tread on the earth lightly, which suggests they’re human rather than demon.”

“And the demon?”

“Waits on the outside of the stone circle.”

“Anyone near the bridge at this point?”

“One squats behind the rocks to the right of it on the island side, while two more wait under it on this side.”

And no doubt their purpose was to block any prospect of a retreat.

“Jess?” Mo said.

The small, sharp-faced woman smiled, a distinct look of anticipation in her eyes. “It’ll take me five minutes to get into position. And I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I’d