All You Desire (28 page)

“Of course I
care
. But I haven't seen any proof that the Society kids are in any danger. I was just at a fund-raiser for Halcyon Hall. . . .”

“Yes, the magos has been holding quite a few fund-raisers lately. Whatever he has planned must be very expensive.”

“Well, I thought the party couldn't have been more respectable,” Haven countered stubbornly. “I've watched Adam interact with some of the younger kids too. He's very sweet to them.”

“Sweet to them?” Phoebe said. “Oh, you poor, silly creature.”

“I don't care what you think of me.” Haven glowered. Having been the butt of countless jokes as a child, she didn't enjoy being laughed at. “Call Cleo and Chandra and tell them to take me back to my hotel. I'm finished with the Horae.”

“Don't be ridiculous. The magos has found your weakness, and he's exploiting it. It's all an
act
, Haven. He wants you to believe you've inspired him to become something different—someone better. But don't forget—the magos has spent thousands of years spreading misery and pestilence. He's murdered and maimed. I've seen things so terrible that you couldn't possibly comprehend them. If you give me a chance, I'll let you see for yourself.”

Haven didn't need to witness any of Adam's crimes. She thought of her own father, who'd been killed by one of Adam's men. Adam could inspire his minions to do horrible things. But there was no way to rid the world of him forever. Phoebe had admitted as much herself. Locking him away was nothing more than a temporary solution. Changing him could be permanent. Was it foolish to think she might be the one who could do it?

“I don't think Adam is still the same person,” Haven argued. “He's cleaning up the Ouroboros Society. He's encouraging the young members to devote their lives to improving the world. Maybe he's just trying to win me over, but what does that matter? Think of all the good Adam could do.”

“Your argument has two serious flaws, Haven.
People
can change—but the magos isn't a person. And
you
don't have the power to change him.”

“I guess we'll just have to wait and see,” Haven replied with a sarcastic shrug.

Phoebe shook her head. “I'm afraid that isn't going to be an option. I asked Chandra and Cleo to bring you here because you have a decision you must make.
Tonight
. You can agree to help the Horae bring our plan to fruition. Or you can take a chance and pray that the magos is the saint he's pretending to be.”

Haven opened her mouth to make her choice, but Phoebe stopped her.

“Before you decide, perhaps it's best to examine the dangers involved. We'll start with the children at Halcyon Hall. You've made it clear that you don't mind risking their lives. Fine. What about your friend Beau? Are you willing to gamble his life as well? And Iain's life? You do remember Mr. Morrow, don't you? You must realize that if you're wrong about Adam, Iain could pay the price. Is that a chance you want to take?”

Phoebe was right. Haven couldn't deny it. Even if her heart told her that Adam was different, there was still no way to be certain. It was one thing to make that leap of faith on her own. She couldn't demand that Iain and Beau make it too.

“There's only one sure way to protect your friends,” Phoebe said. “Honor the deal that you made with me and my sisters. I know you don't want to betray Adam. I know that you'd rather not lock him away. But is his freedom worth the lives of the people you love? It's time to remember what matters most to you, Haven.”

Haven couldn't speak, and Phoebe's satisfied smile was that of an archer whose arrow had found the right mark.

“As I said, this is your last chance.” The old woman gestured to the log in front of the fire. “I won't extend this offer again. Do you accept it?”

“Do I have any choice?” Haven mumbled. She took a seat and felt the warmth of the fire spread over her.

“In time, you will see what a wise decision you've made.” Phoebe threw a handful of twigs on the flames, and the sweet, cloying scent of perfume filled the clearing.

 

The rage inside her boiled over, and she sat up to confront her brother. Piero was tall, well built, and nearly as beautiful as Beatrice. “I don't care about any of this, you idiot.” She flung the fur across the room, and it landed in a pile in the corner. “The only thing I want is something you take for granted. Haven't you noticed? Since my engagement, no one has been able to tell me where I can go or what I can do. Father, Mother—they're all too afraid of him. Adam gave me my
freedom
, Piero. And the price won't be my soul—it will be my body. My soul left me when Ettore died. I couldn't give it to anyone else if I wanted to.”

 

“DID YOU SEE HIM this time?” Phoebe wanted to know.

Haven rubbed her eyes, which were still stinging from the smoke. She had a hunch that Phoebe was talking about Adam. But Haven refused to give the woman any satisfaction.

“I saw Piero. He was with Beatrice. He mentioned Naddo as well. But I still don't know enough to find him. I knew this would be pointless.”

“You're wrong,” Phoebe insisted. “The visions are building to a revelation. The very next one may hold the memory you need.”

“Then take me back now,” Haven said.

“No, it's too dangerous,” Phoebe said with a shake of her head. “I refuse to endanger your life while you still have work to do. You must return to the magos and convince him of your love. Soon we shall put our plan into action.”

“Not until I see Naddo!” Haven insisted. “Not until I can find the man who took Beau! If I'm going to honor my end of the deal, you have to honor yours too!”

“You can't afford to wait, Haven. Your boyfriend—the human one—is getting quite reckless. One of my sisters spotted him talking to a little girl in Gramercy Park. It was the middle of the day, and he was in full view of the Ouroboros Society. If you don't put an end to all of this soon, Iain Morrow may find himself face-to-face with the magos. And who, do you imagine, would win such a contest?”

Haven didn't need to respond. The answer was obvious.

“You should be very concerned about Iain,” Phoebe continued, determined to press her point. Haven could tell there was a surprise on the way—one the old woman had been saving for just such a moment. “This isn't the first time his foolishness has put lives at risk. The boy has always acted without thinking, and he's never listened to reason. On at least one occasion, he managed to get you both killed.”

“How would
you
know?” Haven scoffed.

“I know because I personally witnessed the tragedy. Twelve hundred years ago, you were the daughter of the Emir of Cordoba, and your father had arranged your marriage to an important ally. You had lived in the emir's harem your entire life. You had never spoken to a man outside your family—neither your future husband nor the young tutor your father had brought to Spain to instruct his sons. Three of the Horae were palace slaves, and we recognized both men immediately. I spoke to Iain. I couldn't reveal my true identity, but I pleaded with him not to interfere with your marriage to the magos. I swore he would disappear shortly after the wedding, and Iain could have you for the rest of your days. But Iain refused to compromise. One night he broke into the women's quarters and carried you away. Your father sent men after him. They slaughtered Iain for his crime. And they executed
you
for bringing shame upon your family. Your deaths weren't necessary. Iain's impulsiveness condemned you both. I suggest you act quickly before it happens again.”

“Great story, Phoebe. Are you sure I wasn't Anne Boleyn? Or Joan of Arc? How do I know that wasn't just one of your lies?” Haven said, though the tale had the ring of truth. She knew Iain sometimes trusted his instincts too much. And his convictions were never easily challenged. Even Haven could find it difficult to make Iain listen to her side of an issue. A stranger would barely stand a chance.

“I believe there's another person who can confirm my account,” Phoebe said. “And now that I've said my piece, you're free to go ask him.” She dismissed Haven with a wave of her hand.

“Go? We're in the middle of a forest. Where the hell am I supposed to go?”

“Follow the path behind you,” Phoebe told her.

Haven turned around. Somehow she had overlooked a gravel trail that cut through the trees. It was several feet wide and perfectly maintained. When she glanced back at the fire, Phoebe was gone, and the light was growing fainter. Haven hurried along the path, wondering where it might lead and why the sky above seemed to glow. There was a sound in the distance. The blare of a car horn. She began to sprint. The forest thinned until there were hardly any trees at all. Haven found herself in a meadow. And that's when she saw them—the massive structures circling the wilderness. She was standing in the middle of Central Park.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THE CITY HAD frozen again overnight. Icicles dangled from doorways, a fire hydrant spewed a river of solid ice, and the mounds of snow that lined the streets were hard to the touch. The sidewalk seemed to crackle with each step Haven took. The cars on Lexington Avenue plowed through the slush.

As Haven approached the Ouroboros Society, she spotted a group of people clustered on the building's salt-sprinkled stairs. Parents and their progeny waiting for the doors to open, she assumed at first—until she saw there was only one adult among them. As she drew closer, she realized it was Adam, surrounded by half a dozen children. None of them noticed her. They were all silent and perfectly motionless as they stared straight ahead at the park. Haven had never seen six children sitting so still or concentrating so intently.

Haven was almost upon them when she heard one of the little boys whisper, “There it is.” She wheeled around to see what he'd spotted. A majestic brown bird landed on the statue at the center of Gramercy Park. It perched there for a moment, observing them all. Then it stretched out its massive wings and took one turn around the garden before it flew off toward the East River. As soon as it was out of sight, the group of children seemed to exhale in unison.

“In the ancient world,” she heard Adam say, “people believed that the will of the gods could be determined by studying the flight of birds. The priests who read the signs were called augurs. A hawk landing on the head of the statue would have been seen as a powerful omen.”

“What does it mean?” inquired one of the children.

“We'll have to find an augur to know,” Adam said. “Very few of us are allowed to see the future. In fact, there's only one . . .” He looked up. “Haven.” A smile spread across his face.

“You're bird-watching?” she asked.

Adam slid an arm around the kid sitting next to him, and the little boy beamed. “Jeremiah saw a red-tailed hawk and thought we should all take a look.”