Patrick shook his head. “Now she knows about Gabriel, she knows who I am and where I live, and she likely recognized you.”
“Do you think she’ll bring Devin here?” Elam asked.
“Perhaps to kill you and Gabriel, but if I understand the prophecy correctly, she’s hoping for me to generate a hostiam for her, so she won’t soon seek my destruction or Ruth’s.”
“A hostiam?” Gabriel repeated. “What’s that?”
“I will explain later. For now, we must get your wound cleaned and find a place for the two of you to hide.”
Elam clenched his fist. “I’m not hiding. I stopped being afraid of that witch thousands of years ago.”
“I appreciate your courage,” Patrick said. “I didn’t expect you to cower behind any skirts. If, however, my wife and I are blessed with a child, I must protect both of them at all costs, and keeping Devin far away is item number one on my priority list.”
Elam drummed his fingers on the table. “Since Mrs. Nathanson isn’t expecting, I say we draw the slayer here now. Get it over with. It’s either him or us.”
Gabriel clapped Elam’s back. “I’m with him. Maybe I’m not as old as the hills, but I’ve been hiding ever since I can remember, and I’m tired of it.”
“I am of a mind to agree,” Patrick said, “but if we summon Devin, all our lives will likely be in jeopardy.” He nodded toward the exit. “Elam, please ask Ruth to come here with her medical bag. Then I would like you to retire for the night. It has been a most stressful evening for all of us.”
Elam laid his palms on the table and rose slowly, eyeing Patrick and Gabriel as he picked up his lantern. “Okay. . . . I can do that.”
Patrick gave him a formal nod. “Thank you, and good night.”
As he marched to the doorway, Elam glared at the shifting shadows. Something was wrong. Patrick had dismissed him too abruptly. He had treated a grown man like a child, literally sending him to bed without his supper. But why? Was he planning to discuss some kind of secret with Gabriel?
As he strode through the corridor, Gabriel’s sad eyes took shape in his mind. Somehow they were too sad, like a . . . a . . . Elam shook his head. He wasn’t sure what Gabriel reminded him of, but it wasn’t good. He mentally kicked himself into gear and ran the rest of the way to the main nursery.
Patrick drew one of the drapery panels to the side and tied it back, while Gabriel pulled the other. With the curtain out of the way, Gabriel backed up to take in the sight. The wall behind the curtains framed a strange window. Without a single streak or reflected image, it looked like a rectangular hole in the wall, an escape hatch to a forest he could leap to without smashing any glass.
He approached the hole and laid a palm on the stone surface. It wasn’t a window at all. The scene on the other side, with its equatorial trees and low-hanging vines, was unlike anything in Patrick’s estate or all of England. Not only that, dozens of lush, fern-like leaflets trembled under a drenching downpour in the dimness of a cloudy day. Of course, that didn’t make any sense, not in the middle of a cloudless night on this side of the window.
“So,” Gabriel said, “it looks like a good day for frogs in there.”
Patrick touched the window lightly. “It seems to rain frequently in that dimension, which, I think, is appropriate for what we have in mind.”
“You mean, send the slayer to Hades so he can soak his hot head?”
“Precisely. And now that Elam has indicated his willingness to fight the slayer, all of the pieces are in place.”
“When are you going to tell him our plan?”
“Tomorrow morning. But first I want to make sure you and I are of the same mind concerning the prophecy. Do you understand what it appears to be saying about you?”
Gabriel shrugged his shoulders. “If you mean that line about the hybrid and the king’s son, then, I guess I do.”
“If you are the hybrid to be laid to rest, then inviting a battle with Devin could mean your death.”
“I know.” Gabriel turned away from the window. “I just want to do what I have to do and get it over with. If Devin dies, then we’ll celebrate. If I die, that’s okay, too. I’m ready to go.”