Her jaw clenched. For two years, she’d lived under the same roof as him, spoke with him as easily as her fellow printers. She did not know how to align the Spencer she knew with the one standing before her now. “I’m not giving it to you,” she said. “No one ought to use it.”

“Catherine.” He extended a hand, palm up. “I can’t let you leave. I can’t let either of you leave. I know you well enough to know you’ll take this to the police.”

“You killed two people, Spencer.”

He stepped closer, and Catherine drew back, pressing up against the desk.

“Mr. Carlyle,” said Guy. His breathing was a little short, but his voice held firm. “You cannot… You cannot kill us in this room. It would be too difficult to hide our bodies. We’ll leave the watch and the vial. We’ll take no evidence.”

Catherine stared, wide-eyed. How could they do such a thing?

But then Spencer said, “I can’t take that chance. You know what I’ve done.”

Guy didn’t waver. He held Spencer’s gaze and told him, “My magic could be of use to you.” His voice was quiet, serious. “Let Miss Daly leave, and I’ll give you time to gather your things and go.” From his pocket, he took out his watch and winding key.

Spencer considered him. Catherine curled her fingers around the desk’s edge, unsure of what Guy was doing. She looked over, but his eyes remained fixed on Spencer. He slotted the key into the watch and continued. “It’s a fine offer, Mr. Carlyle. You’d do well to take it.”

Eyes narrowed, Spencer said, “It’s a fine offer, indeed. But I don’t know you, Mr. Nolan. How am I to trust you’ll keep your word?”

And, finally, in that moment, Guy’s eyes flitted to Catherine. His grip tightened around his watch and key, and she realized what he meant to do. Glancing back at Spencer, he said grimly, “I suppose you can’t.”

He closed his eyes. He wound the watch at a swift pace, his magic unfolding—until silence fell, settling like a sudden frost.

Spencer stood just as he was. His eyes were wide, his mouth open as though he were caught midprotest.

Guy let out a breath of laughter. He stumbled back a step and knelt, clutching his watch to his chest. He looked to Catherine with a grin, tears shining in his eyes. “I wasn’t sure that would work.”

“Oh, Guy.”

He scrubbed at his tears with the back of one hand. “Do you have the timepiece?”

She nodded. Pulling herself away from the desk, she took out the pocket watch. It was an ordinary, dull silver, its casing scratched.

Guy straightened up. “And what about Mr. Carlyle?”

They looked over at him. Despite his still expression, there was a harshness to it, a stark light in his pale gaze.

“I believe there’s some rope in the kitchen,” said Catherine. “We can restrain him.”

She stepped out into the hall, Guy following just behind. He shut the door, and at the click of the bolt, the finality of it, Catherine’s breath caught in her throat. She put her arms around him, and he leaned his head upon her shoulder, holding on to her. She felt him shaking, the rapid beat of his heart. Tears stung the backs of her eyes.