Bria frowned. “What? What are you talking about?”

I thought about telling her about our mother’s and sister’s runes, but I clamped my lips shut at the last second. It wouldn’t do any good to tell her about them. Not now. She’d just be distracted thinking about them, as I had been earlier.

Maybe if I hadn’t been brooding about the runes, I would have realized what Clementine was up to. Maybe then I would have been able to save Jillian. Maybe . . . maybe I had too many damn maybes cluttering up my mind.

Instead of answering her question, I shook my head. “You’ll know them when you see them. Trust me.”

Bria gave me a quizzical look, obviously wondering what I was babbling on about at a time like this, but she finally nodded. She squeezed my hand again before she moved over to Xavier. The two of them slid into position at the edge of the balcony and slowly, carefully, quietly trained their guns on the guards below.

I hurried down the stairs. Owen was waiting for me at the bottom. He fell into step beside me as we walked down the hallway. We didn’t speak as we moved through the museum. We didn’t have to. After everything we’d been through these past few weeks, the companionable quiet felt nice, comfortable, and soothing, even if I was probably marching toward my own death. Well, at least he was here with me for the end. Owen would get Eva to safety, and I’d take care of the bad guys, the way I always did.

We made it back to the side door and stepped outside. After that, it was just a matter of following the stone path down the hill to the bottom of the island. The sweet perfume of the ever-present honeysuckle seemed to have gathered strength while we’d been inside, hanging over everything like a thick, humid cloud. This side of the island wasn’t as manicured and cultivated as the front, and the farther down the slope we went, the more the landscape darkened with thick tangles of briars and brambles. I didn’t mind the change in scenery, though. The briars were beautiful in their own right, sharp and curved, rough and prickly, hardy enough to survive on the island, resilient enough to flourish here despite all the many concentrated attempts to kill them off. Just like me. At least, that was my hope tonight.

We stopped at a curve in the path just out of sight of the boathouse. Time to split up.

“How do you want to do this?” Owen asked.