“London,” Vincent said. “That’s where she is.”
It was said that there were two triangles in the world that contained the strongest magic. The White Triangle that included Lyons, Turin, and Prague, and the Black Triangle, containing San Francisco, Turin, and London. Franny and Vincent looked displeased, for reasons neither Sally nor Gillian understood. But the clerk at Amulette was aware of what the meaning of the finding was. He gave Vincent the card of a professor in London and assured them this fellow, Ian Wright, had been working in the field for decades and was well regarded for his scholarship.
“Working in what field?” Gillian asked, confused.
As the clerk closed the atlas ash speckled his hands, and he quickly took up a small tea towel to wipe off the black residue. The Dark Art left a stain that was wise to quickly clean up. That was when Sally and Gillian knew. It was the Crooked Path. Kylie was being drawn to the left-handed side.
No one spoke as they left the store. Vincent looped the key around his neck once more. He could feel it there, a quickened pulse. For the first time in a long time he felt as if anything could happen. Because they would travel on this night, he insisted they take a taxi back to Boulevard de la Madeleine rather than walk.
Franny gave him a look and said, “I’m quite fit.”
“It’s for me, dear,” Vincent said, so small a lie it didn’t even burn his tongue. “I’m exhausted.”
“I Walk at Night” was playing on the radio when they got into the taxi. The driver was singing along in muddy English. Vincent was embarrassed to hear himself, but Franny patted her brother’s back. “So beautiful,” she said proudly. “No wonder they still play it.”
Sally had never listened to her grandfather’s song before; she hadn’t been interested since he clearly had never been interested in them, but now she had little choice.
Isn’t that what love makes you do? Go on trying even when you’re through.
Sally had grown up convinced that Vincent Owens was a coward who had deserted them all, but now she wondered if there wasn’t more to it. He was sitting up front with the taxi driver discussing whether or not the rain was gone for good, and then he suddenly turned to look back at Sally, as if he knew what she was thinking, as if he thought the very same thing.
What wouldn’t I do for love?
* * *
The taxi waited outside while they went to fetch their luggage. They would leave for London on the night train. Why wait, they all agreed. Agnes packed a bag with supplies they might need to ensure they were safe. Red thread, sage, salt, lavender, red and black ink in iridescent glass jars, a length of rope, thin sheets of red paper bound in red leather, long sharp pins. “It’s always best to be prepared,” she advised. As the sisters and Vincent carried their suitcases downstairs, Agnes beckoned to Franny. “Come into the pantry for a moment. I have something for you.”
“Completely unnecessary,” Franny assured her. The others were waiting impatiently in the front hall with their suitcases. They had a train to catch. Yet Agnes insisted. Once they were alone, she handed Franny a small leather pouch. Inside was a charm in the shape of a triangle, made of pure, elemental gold found in river sand. The talisman, which was known to protect its wearer from evil, had been in Agnes’s family for hundreds of years, and had belonged to her six-times great-grandmother, Catherine. On one side was an eye, on the other side a crow. The amulet was strung onto a thin length of cord, and Agnes encouraged Franny to slip the talisman over her head. Franny did so, but she wasn’t happy about it. “It should go to Sally. It’s her daughter who’s missing. Her mission.”
Agnes smiled faintly and gave a tiny shrug. They were both old, and because of this they likely knew too much. How dark the world could be, how great the losses we all must eventually face were. “It’s for you, Franny. When evil comes looking for someone, you’ll be ready.”