“Right, so maybe my dad wanted me to know there was a bounty on his head, which makes sense, and then directed us to the next place we could gather information,” I say. “But that doesn’t explain why Angus led with the fact that someone was following my dad. If the Ferryman is as good as you say, Angus wouldn’t want to cross him by making his plans known, right?” And as I reason it out, my stomach sinks. I feel the color drain from my cheeks. “Oh no. Please tell me that I’m misreading this.”

Ash presses his lips together.

“Ash? Did the Ferryman want me to know that he’s following my dad? Does the Ferryman know I exist?” I say, my temples pulsating.

Ash exhales audibly. “I’m going over what you told me backward and forward, but that is the only possibility I can see.”

“Why would the Ferryman want me to know that?” I ask, trying to come up with some reason it’s not true. “Letting someone know you’re after their dad doesn’t fit with the usual Strategia tactics.”

“Unless someone is so good at what they do that it’s the only way to make it interesting,” Ash says, and I feel dizzy. “The Ferryman is a hunter, November. He’s letting you know you’re a mark.”

I stare at Ash, knowing I will regret asking him this question but unable to help myself. “Why do they call him the Ferryman?” My voice is quieter.

Ash doesn’t look at me when he answers. “Because when he kills people, he leaves a coin in their hand.”

Chapter Thirteen

AS WE NEAR Edinburgh, it occurs to me that Ash has been driving this entire time without using the GPS. And I can see on the dashboard that this car is definitely equipped with the technology. I mean, the car knows when it’s raining and automatically puts on its wipers. It heats and cools your back and your butt and tells you when other cars and objects are too close. The only thing it doesn’t do is provide a solution to having to stop for bathroom breaks. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if they figure out how to work that into the seats of the next model.

“How do you know your way around Scotland?” I ask. Since our conversation this morning, we’ve been carefully avoiding the subject of the Ferryman, because if I let myself focus on it, my thoughts tailspin into doom and gloom.

Ash shrugs. “Just years of driving through Europe, some memorizing of maps, and then when I need to, I look things up in my atlas.”

I half laugh. “In a car with a perfectly good navigation system.”