And that’s how I ended up riding a bike first to the loft—where no one was, but I grabbed Gran’s book and stuffed it in my bag, then plugged the phone in and tried a few more numbers. None of the numbers programmed into the phone rang through. Not Tom’s, not Louis’s, none of them.

“Not good, this is not good,” I whispered. I had no choice but to ride out all the way to the Hollows. Not on a hog like Sarge’s lovely Harley, but a pedal bike that looked like the last person who’d ridden it was Dorothy in the middle of her tornado episode.

I pedaled hard through the streets of Savannah, going for all I was worth. I was still the same forty-one-year-old with extra weight, serious self-worth issues, and the worry that I was speeding my way toward an early grave, but something important was keeping me going.

I was Eric’s only hope of survival. For the first time in I don’t know how long I had a purpose beyond just putting one foot in front of the other.

I pedaled harder, and within an hour, I was at the gates of the graveyard. I checked the position of the sun, marked it in my mind to be close to high noon. Graveyard magic would happen closer to midnight. I had time. I had to believe I had time.

I had twelve hours to find Eric and stop whatever was coming for him.

No problem. I pushed the gates open, and there was Robert waiting at the gravestone, tapping his long skeletal fingers across the top. “Hey, Robert.” I was totally out of breath and huffing hard, but he didn’t care.

“Friend.”

I didn’t stop to chat, just hopped back on the bike and hurried my way through to the entrance of the entrance. Yes, I know—I said it twice, but my head couldn’t come up with another description.

I’m going to blame it on my age.

The opening was open (damn, my brain!) and I braked to a gliding stop, hopped off the bike, and peered down into the tomb under the weeping angel with the broken wing. The flame in his hand was out.

“Eammon?” I called down into the darkness. A groan answered me. I pulled both my knives, clutching them with sweating palms, and hurried down the steps as carefully as I could. The last thing I needed was to tumble all the way down on my ass.

No extra swelling needed there after that bike ride.

At the bottom of the steps the light that flickered was in the middle of the room, a single fire lit, and a pile of weapons thrown into it.

Another groan and I did a slow turn. “Eammon?”

“Lass?”