Solomon Key

Epilogue

The call came from a private number but Brigid knew who it was. She had no interest in talking to Nineve any more often than absolutely necessary, but in this case, she was eager to hear from any member of the Sisterhood. She had not heard from Isla for several days and her daughter was not answering her phone or returning calls for messages. Perhaps Nineve could tell her where Isla was, or at least let her know that Isla was all right.

“I need to talk to your daughter,” Nineve said the moment Brigid answered. “Where is she?”

Brigid’s heart pounded out a rapid beat. “I had hoped you could tell me. I have not heard from her for some time.”

“You’re lying,” Nineve said flatly.

“No.” Brigid saw no point in pleading her case any further. Nineve would believe what she liked.

“Gowan was found dead yesterday.”

Brigid frowned. “The man who was working with Isla?”

“Correct.”

“But Isla was not…” Brigid could not finish the sentence.

“Isla has disappeared. A security camera spotted her near Heathrow the night she and Gowan fell out of contact with us. We’re still working to find out if she did leave the country, and if so, where she went and with whom. Make no mistake, we will find out.”

“I hope you do,” Brigid said. “Doubtless she was running from whoever killed Gowan.”

A long silence hung between them, each trying to wait out the other. Finally, Nineve went on.

“Gowan was shot from behind at close range. The bullet was the same caliber as the pistol we issued to Isla.”

“That doesn’t mean…”

“Listen to me,” Nineve barked. “I am not a fool. The two of you have conspired in this to betray me. Mark me well — if Isla does not return to Modron and accept the consequences of her actions, it will mean war between the Sisterhood and the Tuatha de Danaan. And I will not stop until every last Tuatha is dead.”

She ended the call.

Brigid stared at the screen, pondering her next move. Finally, she sat down, typed out a long text message to Isla, and hit send.

She poured herself a tall glass of Scotch whisky and sat. Now the waiting game began.

Isla rolled over when she heard her phone vibrate. Beside her, Maddock slept soundly. She smiled at the memory of the night before. It was what she had wanted for so long. And now it was real.

She reached out and placed a delicate finger on a ragged white scar, one of the many that covered his muscular body. She found them oddly erotic, symbols of his courage and strength. He’d told her there was a story behind each one, and she couldn’t wait to hear him tell the tales. There was so much about him she still didn’t know.

Rolling over, she picked up her phone and unlocked it. She assumed it was another message from Nineve, or perhaps from her mother. She couldn’t wait until she was safely back in the States. Maddock had promised his friend in the CIA would help her start over with a new identity. Once that had been achieved, she would find a way to let her mother know she was alive and well.

The message was from her mother, and Isla read it with an increasingly sick feeling. War between the Sisterhood and the Tuatha? How many would die? And every death could be laid at her feet. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

She didn’t know how long she sat there trying to think of any possible solution other than the one she was considering. She considered waking Maddock, but she was certain she knew what he would say. He’d tell her to keep out of it, that those people had made their own beds. What’s more, the moment he learned what was happening would spell the end to her plan.

Tears welled in her eyes as she dressed in silence. If only there was another way. This time, he would not forgive her.

Her throat knotted as she took Solomon’s ring from the pocket of the pants he’d discarded on the floor. Her hand was on the doorknob when she turned around. She couldn’t leave without an explanation of some sort. She grabbed the hotel pen and paper and scribbled out a hasty note before departing. It was not until she arrived at the airport that she took out her phone and made the call she’d been avoiding.

“It’s me,” she said. “I can give you Solomon’s Mines.”