Martin. And now, you have no choice but to respond truthfully.” Keating pulls a chair from behind the table and positions it in front of Riley. She crosses her ankles and watches him with a level of nonchalance that I know she can’t really feel. “Do you know who Ms. Ansley is?”
Though he tries not to, Riley’s eyes flit over to Alice. He looks her up and down, appraising. “I’ve seen her picture somewhere,” Riley admits, brow furrowing.
“Where?” Archer presses, stepping forward until he’s beside Elder Keating, slipping easily into his detective persona.
Riley presses his lips into a thin line, but he only manages to delay a few seconds before the words come spilling out. “In Hannah’s photo. She and Morgan were standing beside a poster of her.”
Morgan flinches at the sound of her name, but Archer and Keating share a look. “Good,” Archer says, and then continues with the interrogation, asking Riley how he followed me to New York.
I try, but I can’t follow the line of questioning. My gaze is caught on Sarah, caught on all the tiny cracks in her veneer. She’s fighting so hard to act fine when I know she must be falling apart inside, adrift and disoriented without her magic. Rachel is going to kill me when she finds out what I let happen. With all that swirling around, I can’t understand why Sarah looks so relieved that Riley doesn’t know who Alice—
And then it hits me. If Riley didn’t know Alice was a witch before now, the rest of the Hunters probably don’t know about her, either. He was there because of me, not Alice, which means the Hunters won’t recognize Alice as an enemy when she tries to schedule the performance. The raid still has a chance of success.
If I can actually convince Alice to help us . . .
“I want to talk about the Washington coven.” It’s Keating speaking now, and her words capture my attention. “We have reason to believe you dosed the water supply with your drug. How?”
Riley has stopped struggling against his bonds, but he stares at Archer like he wants to tear out his heart. “I don’t know. It’s above my clearance level.”
“But the Hunters did tamper with the water.” Archer poses the question as a statement, and Riley keeps his lips sealed tight. “Mr. Martin, must we really force each of these answers from you?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Did the Hunters drug the water?”
“Yes.”
“Do you intend to drug all the country’s water supply?”
Riley bares his teeth, a look so violent it twists his face until he’s almost unrecognizable. “No.”
“Then what?” Archer’s voice is pitched with desperation. “How do you intend to administer your drug?”
“We’re going to make it airborne,” Riley says, raising his voice and looking at Morgan while he speaks. “Soon, there will be no escaping salvation.”
His laughter fills the room, and even Archer steps away from him, horror etched across his face. Morgan turns and sprints up the stairs, but whether she’s fleeing Riley or the future he promises, I can’t tell. But it doesn’t matter. If what he says is true, the Witch Clans aren’t going to survive much longer.
Magic will cease to exist.
I turn to run after Morgan, but Alice grips my wrist, holding me back.
“Wait,” she says, her voice pitched low. “I’ll stay in Salem. I’ll help. Whatever you need, tell me and it’s done.”
“Really?” Surprise and gratitude lace through my tone in equal measure.
Alice’s expression is unamused. “If we’re all doomed anyway, I’d rather go down fighting.”
* * *
I find Morgan in the kitchen, her face buried in her hands.
“It’s going to be okay.” The promise passes my lips even though I hate these kinds of platitudes. Even though absolutely nothing feels okay right now. “Riley can’t hurt you anymore.”
She turns and lets me swallow her up in an embrace. “I hate him so much.” Her fierce whisper grazes the skin at my neck, and I squeeze her tight.
“Let’s get out of here.” I pull away and brush the tears from her cheeks. Her skin is warm and flushed under my fingers, the blue of her eyes glittering with unshed pain. “I’ll take you home.”
I find the keys on the table and borrow Alice’s rental van. We leave a note on Archer’s table, promising to bring it back in the morning. On the road, traffic is basically nonexistent as the clock inches toward four. Exhaustion settles into my bones, and I can barely keep my eyes open by the time we make it