Thirteen
With Kash on hand to pick the locks to both Brunner’s office and her desk drawer, it only took a few minutes to find the key and get it back to Larkin. I was conscious of the clock ticking away.
Larkin met us eagerly, his body tense with anticipation. Kash retrieved the key from the box and approached the cat man.
He’d been trapped here forever, and once this cuff was off, he’d be free … “Wait.” I grabbed Kash’s hand to stall him.
Larkin’s eyes narrowed and fixed on me. “Change of heart?”
“No. But I need your word.” I met his gaze steadily. “I’m going to need your word that you won’t abandon us to go home. That you’ll see this task through, and bring Payne home.”
He winced. “I can’t make that promise.”
Kash pocketed the key.
Larkin sighed. “I can take you there, I can help you locate Payne, but I can’t guarantee he’ll come back with you. Payne no longer remembers you or his life here. He has a new life and new memories. The only way to bring him home is for him to come willingly, and we need to stick to the time limit. Whether you manage to convince him or not, when I say it’s time to leave, we leave. That’s all I can promise.”
Shit. Fuck, that just made things harder. “I was hoping to just kidnap him.”
“Yes.” Larkin arched a brow. “Well, you can’t. I’ll get you there and back. Payne, too, if you can convince him to come willingly.”
“And his memories?”
“They’ll return once he’s back in his home realm,” Larkin said.
“What about everyone else? Will they remember him?”
“No. Only the weaver council and those of us with Payne when the time is up will remember who he is.”
“So … he’ll be free? I mean, the weaver council can’t look for someone who effectively no longer exists, right?”
“I doubt that will stop them,” Larkin said. “Payne will be a loose thread they’ll want to cut. We can’t be spotted in Lunar Creek by the weavers. If we interfere in any major plotlines, then the council will be alerted, and then, even if we get Payne out, they’ll come for him. So, do we have a deal?”
It was our only option. I nodded. “Kash, do it.”
Kash retrieved the key, and Larkin rolled up his sleeve. The air began to hum as Kash closed his eyes and pressed the key to Larkin’s cuff. Long seconds passed in which Kash’s forehead broke out in perspiration. He clenched his teeth and canted his head, eyes still closed. His amulet began to glow a soft azure, and then there was aclick,and the cuff fell to the floor with a softthunk.
Larkin stared at his bicep for long, unblinking seconds, and then a huge grin stretched across his face. He held out his arms and flexed his paws. And then he did a twirl, hugging his tail to his chest.
“You did it,” he cried. “You actually fucking did it.” He sobered quickly. “We need to leave. Now. Come.”
He hurried out of the lounge, through the foyer, and into the master’s quarters. He was taking us to the secret room, the in-between place.
He stopped at the door that led to his sanctuary. “Before we go any further, you need to be aware of a few things. Firstly, our presence in Lunar Creek will be an anomaly, so it will cause disruption to the weavers’ live feed. We’ll need to work fast, in and out, before someone on this side realizes what we’re up to.”
“What happens if they do?” Kash asked.
“Then they’ll be waiting for us when we get back. They’ll take Payne again. Number two, we need to limit interaction with the residents of the creek. We do not want to leave a plot hole in the show.”
“You’re worried about the show?” Kash asked incredulously.
Larkin rolled his eyes. “The show is their life. Having people appear and then disappear would raise questions that could eventually lead to a disruption of the fabric of that reality.”
“But having people just appear and become part of the show doesn’t?” It made no sense.
“When someone is banished, they’re magically woven into that world. They’re given a past and a present, and the memories of all residents automatically reboot to include that character.”
“If it wasn’t so dastardly awful, I’d be impressed,” Kash said.