“This … this is about forms? What forms?” Saffron asked, trying to sound bewildered. “What do they have to do with the poisoning?”
With shocking quickness, Berking’s hand crossed her face in a vicious slap. Saffron cried out, and beside her Alexander lurched forward.
“Leave her alone,” Alexander growled. “She doesn’t know anything about this. Let her go. I’m the one whose been looking into the forms and—”
Her eyes watering, Saffron barely made out the blur of Blake hitting Alexander across the face with his gun. Alexander slumped forward against the ropes. Blinking to clear her eyes, she saw that Alexander’s temple was bleeding, his eyes closed.
Cool as ice, Blake said to Berking, “We need to discuss the plan, now that it has changed.”
He looked around the small room and frowned. Saffron flinched as he grabbed her chair and dragged her toward the wall. Berking jerked around Alexander’s chair, so both now faced the wall. She turned to him, hoping she could coax him into waking up. She opened her mouth to speak, and behind her Blake said softly, “One word and I will shoot you, Miss Everleigh. You are to sit quietly.”
Saffron closed her eyes against tears. She couldn’t believe the situation she’d gotten them into.
How was it possible that Richard Blake, the bland, boring man, was casually threatening to shoot her? Was she about to die? Her breath came fast and shallow, sending her blood pounding through her body as if trying to make the most of what she thought might be her final minutes.
She’d never figure out how to get out of this if she was panicking. Behind them, Berking and Blake spoke quietly. She took a few determined deep breaths, and their words came into focus.
“—can’t shoot them here,” hissed Blake.
“Why do we have to?” Berking huffed. “Why can’t we just tie them up and leave?”
“No loose ends, Berking. I’ve learned that much in my years of playing this game.”
A long pause. “All right. Let’s just shoot them quick. We leave them and make it look as though Maxwell came back …”
Saffron stifled a sob and looked frantically around. Alexander was unmoving beside her, still knocked out. If she could manage to get out of the chair, she might make a run for it, but she wouldn’t be able to drag him away too.
“A gunshot would be overheard,” Blake’s cool voice said. “No, we’ll have to do something else. Do you have any of the solution on you?”
The hope that came with the promising idea of causing a loud sound—she could throw something at the window and break it—was drained away at the mention of the solution. The solution that caused Mrs. Henry to go into a coma.
“In my office. I just have one left, not enough for them both.”
“Damn,” Blake murmured. “Don’t want to use it anyway, not the same thing. What else is available? What would Maxwell have nearby? If we’re sticking with him, it should be poison again.”
Next to her, Alexander stirred. His eyelashes fluttered, and his head rolled as he emitted a soft groan.
Berking said, “Ah … We could use the original weapon, the xolotl vine. Appropriate, isn’t it?”
Xolotl! Alexander opened his eyes and looked at Saffron. Her wide eyes caught his slightly unfocused ones. Hope battled with logic. Saffron had survived the first dose, but they might force them to have more than what she’d taken.
Blake didn’t seem as keen. “Would it work? I thought it wasn’t clear what exactly it did.”
Berking laughed. “Maxwell was too afraid to touch the thing once he brought it back. Even Winters won’t go near it! Oh, it’ll work.”
“Fine. What do we need?”
Saffron wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that xolotl was their weapon of choice. What would they do when they found it didn’t kill them?
Berking paused and thought for a moment. “Too hard to force them both to eat the leaves—we’ll need a solution.”
“Injection?” Blake asked.
“It’s highly toxic, so an infusion should do it. We’ll need the kettle from downstairs and glasses. The plant is in the last greenhouse. Giant yellow thing. Can’t miss it.”
Blake moved toward the door into Saffron’s line of vision and caught a set of keys from Berking. His pale eyes slid to Saffron and Alexander. “If Berking tells me you’ve communicated, you will be sorry. Whoever speaks will have to go last and watch the other die.”