Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities #8) - Shannon Messenger Page 0,182

one being that where you go, so do an ogre and multiple goblins and many of your friends, all of whom create far too much spectacle for such a simple task—even at that early of an hour.”

“Uh, the ogre and goblins don’t have to come with us,” Keefe reminded him.

“Yes, we do!” Sandor stalked over to Sophie and grabbed her arm again to keep her at his side.

“You think Foster can’t take you down right now if she wants to?” Keefe asked with a sharp, bitter laugh.

A very un-Keefe laugh.

Mr. Forkle must’ve noticed too, because he told him, “This is why I made you promise to stay calm and rational and avoid any reckless behavior.”

“Yeah, well, then you proved my mom’s a murderer, so excuse me for freaking out a little,” Keefe snapped, tearing a hand though his hair.

Mr. Forkle narrowed his eyes. “Would it help if I promise to report back on everything I find?”

“No, because I don’t want to know what you find. I want to know what I find. I’ve been to London. I’ve walked some of those streets—and who knows? Maybe I’ve even used that path my mom used to leave. I can’t remember it because SHE ERASED MY MEMORIES SO I WOULDN’T REALIZE SHE WAS KILLING PEOPLE!”

He paused to catch his breath.

Mr. Forkle shook his head. “If Big Ben held any significance to you, the photo alone would’ve triggered the memory.”

“That’s not true and you know it! Memories aren’t only triggered by sights. Sound plays a role too. Smell. Taste. Touch. Even emotions. So we all know my best shot at recovering the memories is to walk those streets again. And I need to get them back.” His voice broke, and he looked away, tearing at his hair some more. “The guy’s dead, Forkle. And his daughter. She killed them. And I might know why. I might’ve…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Sophie could see the worry in his eyes.

The voiceless fear that he was partly to blame, because he’d delivered that letter.

Or maybe that he’d played an even larger role and had yet to fit those pieces together.

“I don’t care about safe or smart right now,” Keefe added quietly. “I care about finding the truth. Just let me walk those streets. That’s all I’m asking.”

Mr. Forkle dragged a hand down his face. “Fine. Give me a few days to properly prepare and I’ll get you to London, and—”

“I see zero advantage to waiting,” Keefe interrupted.

“And what about spontaneity?” Sophie added, realizing how close Keefe was to unraveling. “It worked great when Dex and I went, and—”

“That was a very different situation,” Mr. Forkle cut in. “You were going somewhere totally random and leaving in a matter of minutes—not heading to a location with a proven connection to the Neverseen and planning to spend untold minutes wandering around. Also, I feel the need to point out that just because a somewhat reckless decision worked out once doesn’t mean you can use that as a standard of measure for all similar situations.”

Keefe’s hands curled into fists. But it was the worry and panic dulling his ice blue eyes—mixed with something so much darker—that had Sophie transmitting, I can sneak us to London tonight—but you need to stop fighting, otherwise Ro will be watching you too closely.

She opened her mind to his thoughts so he could ask, You’re serious?

Amazingly, she was.

She believed in the power of spontaneity.

Mostly, though, she’d seen Keefe like this before—dangling by such a very, very thin thread. There was too high of a risk that it would snap and he’d run off without her.

Can you slip away from Ro? she asked.

Can YOU slip away from Sandor? he countered.

I think so. Meet at the swings at your house at midnight?

That’s too late, Keefe argued. We don’t know what Forkle means by “wee hours of the morning,” and we need to be out of there before he shows up.

Okay, how about eleven o’clock?

He chewed his lip and glanced at Fitz, who could clearly tell they were communicating telepathically.

Which meant Mr. Forkle could surely tell as well.

And the bodyguards.

“Thank you,” Sophie said out loud, trying to cover. She sent Keefe a quick Go with me on this, before she turned to Mr. Forkle and said, “He said he’ll wait two days and then he’s going there on his own. Seems like a pretty fair compromise to me.”

Mr. Forkle’s forehead puckered, and Sophie couldn’t tell if it was with suspicion or displeasure at being bossed around. All