Time crawled and sped by at the same time. Rosalie longed for an end to the day and dreaded its climax. Equinox Eve was upon them, and though Drew was no longer Clement Benedict’s bargaining chip, it didn’t negate the meeting required to take place at the foot of Queen Victoria’s statue. The symbology beneath it had been carved into the stone long before Drew’s kidnapping, long before Ethne M’Kynnon’s grave, or that of her sister in Ireland, had been ransacked. The meeting tonight had been planned, not by the Benedicts, but by those that lived in the spirit world. For what reason, Rosalie didn’t want to guess. She knew though that it could not be avoided. She would take her eldest children into the mouth of evil and hope that their destiny was indeed to prevail. Anything else could not be
