maybe three years, and I’d be ready to jump back into the shark tank.” He raised his voice. “You listen to a damn thing Rooney says, Raven, and you’ll wind up loonier six months on than you were when you got to this crazy bird town. I caught someone, Aidan—for about thirty seconds. Got kicked in the crotch, almost lost the use of my right arm, and if my nose isn’t broken, it’s only because, when I foolishly attempted to teach my nine-year-old sister and Raven to kickbox, I was forced to learn the fine art of ducking fast.”
Aidan scanned the surrounding area. “Was it George?”
Raven brought her head around. “You think George was inside Blume House?”
“Fergus here saw him climb through one of the windows.”
“And you trust Fergus here to be telling the truth? No offense,” she added with a glance at the big man.
“None taken. But I did see him. The guy riding with you in the white truck went into the house through a window.”
“Call it another link in an increasingly bizarre chain of events,” Aidan suggested, “and try not to dwell on it.”
“As a non-cop, I’ll do my best.” She turned to her cousin. “Are you sure it was George?”
“Hell no. Fergus here saw him, not me. I was shadowboxing.” Reaching into his vest pocket, Steven pulled out a cell phone and tossed it to Aidan. “He dropped this. It’ll probably fill in the name gap.”
Tucking away his gun, Aidan took the device and immediately looked at Raven.
“What?”
He indicated himself, then her. “Techno-spaz, supergeek.”
She shot him a smile that didn’t bode well for their future alone time. But she held out her palm. “Okay, give it.”
He watched her play for a moment before a flicker of lightning diverted him. He’d seen the same thing earlier in the vicinity of the Ravenspell campsite. “We need to get into the house.”
“No way.” Fergus Smith was adamant. “That place is spooked. Lights on, lights off, everything creaking and groaning and wailing. How do we know there aren’t ghosts in the walls?”
“We don’t.” Aidan tracked a strange gust of wind as the sky lit up yet again. “But believe me when I tell you, there are worse things in this world than a ghost or two.... Something?” he asked Raven, who was pondering the on-screen display.
“Not sure.” She scrolled forward, then back. “It is George’s phone. It looks like he made a call while I was talking to Grandpa in the cottage. There’s no name or number, but someone called him back a few minutes later.”
“What’s the name on the incoming?”
“All it says is Gort. Outgoing was placed at 5:53 p.m. Reply, I assume, came at 5:56.” She looked up into his shielded eyes and narrowed her own. “That is not a happy expression, Aidan. Who’s Gort?”
His gaze shifted to Blume House. “Police tag for Demars is Spaceman, but George thought Gort was a better fit. Deadly robot, no face.”
“Like in that black-and-white movie where all the machines stopped working.” Fergus Smith gave a sheepish shrug. “My ma watches old space movies.”
“So does George.” Raven paged sideways. “The communication from Gort lasted four and a half minutes. Shortly after that, George returned to Blume House—not sure how—and climbed through a window. I wonder what or who he was hoping to find?”
The resentment in her voice was obvious, but under it was a strong sense of disappointment. In George and in him, but mostly, Aidan sensed, in herself for misjudging a trusted friend’s character.
“It’s done, Raven. There’s no way back. Demars knows I’m alive and in the Cove.”
Her eyes shot to his. “Then you have to leave. Now. Tonight.”
Everything inside him hardened. “Not an option. Demars wants to finish this, and so do I. And it can’t be finished on the run.”
Exasperation replaced fear. “So you’re going to take him on in Raven’s Cove?” She walked away and straight back. “That’s suicide, pure and
Aidan scanned the surrounding area. “Was it George?”
Raven brought her head around. “You think George was inside Blume House?”
“Fergus here saw him climb through one of the windows.”
“And you trust Fergus here to be telling the truth? No offense,” she added with a glance at the big man.
“None taken. But I did see him. The guy riding with you in the white truck went into the house through a window.”
“Call it another link in an increasingly bizarre chain of events,” Aidan suggested, “and try not to dwell on it.”
“As a non-cop, I’ll do my best.” She turned to her cousin. “Are you sure it was George?”
“Hell no. Fergus here saw him, not me. I was shadowboxing.” Reaching into his vest pocket, Steven pulled out a cell phone and tossed it to Aidan. “He dropped this. It’ll probably fill in the name gap.”
Tucking away his gun, Aidan took the device and immediately looked at Raven.
“What?”
He indicated himself, then her. “Techno-spaz, supergeek.”
She shot him a smile that didn’t bode well for their future alone time. But she held out her palm. “Okay, give it.”
He watched her play for a moment before a flicker of lightning diverted him. He’d seen the same thing earlier in the vicinity of the Ravenspell campsite. “We need to get into the house.”
“No way.” Fergus Smith was adamant. “That place is spooked. Lights on, lights off, everything creaking and groaning and wailing. How do we know there aren’t ghosts in the walls?”
“We don’t.” Aidan tracked a strange gust of wind as the sky lit up yet again. “But believe me when I tell you, there are worse things in this world than a ghost or two.... Something?” he asked Raven, who was pondering the on-screen display.
“Not sure.” She scrolled forward, then back. “It is George’s phone. It looks like he made a call while I was talking to Grandpa in the cottage. There’s no name or number, but someone called him back a few minutes later.”
“What’s the name on the incoming?”
“All it says is Gort. Outgoing was placed at 5:53 p.m. Reply, I assume, came at 5:56.” She looked up into his shielded eyes and narrowed her own. “That is not a happy expression, Aidan. Who’s Gort?”
His gaze shifted to Blume House. “Police tag for Demars is Spaceman, but George thought Gort was a better fit. Deadly robot, no face.”
“Like in that black-and-white movie where all the machines stopped working.” Fergus Smith gave a sheepish shrug. “My ma watches old space movies.”
“So does George.” Raven paged sideways. “The communication from Gort lasted four and a half minutes. Shortly after that, George returned to Blume House—not sure how—and climbed through a window. I wonder what or who he was hoping to find?”
The resentment in her voice was obvious, but under it was a strong sense of disappointment. In George and in him, but mostly, Aidan sensed, in herself for misjudging a trusted friend’s character.
“It’s done, Raven. There’s no way back. Demars knows I’m alive and in the Cove.”
Her eyes shot to his. “Then you have to leave. Now. Tonight.”
Everything inside him hardened. “Not an option. Demars wants to finish this, and so do I. And it can’t be finished on the run.”
Exasperation replaced fear. “So you’re going to take him on in Raven’s Cove?” She walked away and straight back. “That’s suicide, pure and
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