Passenger (Passenger #1) - Alexandra Bracken Page 0,66

and that night was the first time she’d ever heard that booming call.

“How very thoughtless of Rose to not explain this.” Cyrus seemed to read her thoughts before she did. “Our ancestors, those who created the passages a thousand years ago, were of purer blood than those of us today. It became necessary to…mingle…our bloodlines with common ones in order to survive. The ability to hear and see the passages naturally has faded. We rely on resonance.”

Cyrus slid a harmonica out of a velvet sack in his satchel. Putting his lips to the mouthpiece, he released a powerful burst of air, playing three simultaneous notes.

Before he’d pulled the harmonica away, Etta heard it—the shuddering, distant scream. She pulled back instinctively, reaching out to grab something, anything, until her hand found the fireplace mantelpiece. The noise pounded like a second heartbeat in her head.

“The passages resonate with the chord of G major,” Cyrus said.

Etta rubbed her forehead, trying to dislodge the knot of pain behind her temple, the blazing wildfire of sound trapped there. The Largo from Sonata no. 3…the one chosen for her…that contained those three notes—G, B, and D—only a few seconds into the piece.

She’d called to the passage with her violin, and it had called back.

“How curious,” Cyrus began. There was a cane leaning against the left arm of the chair, and he took it in hand as he rose to his feet, thudding toward her in three beats of sound. “How very curious that your mother kept this from you.”

“How curious that she ran away from you,” she said sarcastically. “I can’t imagine why.”

His hand lashed out, gripping her chin, stilling her. The pressure of his grip, combined with her own shock, made her arms go limp at her side. He was taller than Etta was, but otherwise built with the solid stockiness of a bulldog—and his quiet cruelty took a very different form when he was towering over her. For a half second, with the fire scorching her back, she honestly thought he’d push her into it.

“Stop this,” Nicholas said sharply, thrusting an arm between them.

A small protest, but it did something. The blue flame of his eyes shifted from Etta to Nicholas, and she felt his hand relax, slide down the length of her neck before settling there like a collar—a noose.

“Your mother ingratiated herself to my family as we searched for an item of value that once belonged to my ancestors. She played the part of the sad, sorry orphan, gathered what information she needed from us, and stole it from under our noses. Decades of searching, wasted.”

I have never stolen anything in my life.

Her mother had only just said those words to her—when Etta had joked about her stealing the earrings. She’d seemed almost devastated by an accusation that hadn’t been an accusation at all.

No matter how bad things got, or how much I wanted something.

Nicholas straightened, his expression sharpening as something came together for him. “You’re speaking of the astrolabe—you mean to imply that Rose Linden is the traveler who stole it?”

“I imply nothing. It is a statement of fact, one you were not privy to in your position.” Cyrus blew a sharp breath out from his nose. “I’d heard various reports of eras and places where she’d hidden it, but it all added up to nothing but further loss.” He turned back to her. “The search to reclaim this object has cost me two sons and a grandson, all three of my direct heirs.”

“Then maybe,” Etta bit out, “you should have stopped looking for it while you were still ahead, and left me out of this!”

He removed his hand from her and pulled it back, as if to strike her. Nicholas stepped farther between them, his shoulder blocking her view of the old man. “Enough. Don’t pretend as if you’ve actually been mourning them. I seem to recall you referring to Julian as a gnat on more than one occasion. You didn’t shed a single tear when he died.”

Something occurred to Etta. If Augustus and Virgil were his sons, and Julian was his grandson…where did Nicholas fit into the family tree?

“Did Sophia search their possessions while she was in that time period?” Nicholas asked. “How do you know it’s not there?”

“Rose knows better than to keep it with her. She will have guaranteed that finding her does not mean finding the astrolabe—she always was a spiteful creature, even after everything I’d done for her,” Cyrus continued. “She claimed it belonged to