“It looks like a jack-in-a-box,” said Laurel.
“Crush it,” said Hilt, reaching for it.
“No,” growled Rickenbacker, his face flashing with anger. “If Elephantine’s story is true, then we need it intact. We need him.”
“How can you trust that thing?”
“Why shouldn’t we?”
Hilt and Rickenbacker stood inches apart. The air crackled with tension.
“I suppose we could go to the fairy slums in Chinsey, see how much of it rings true,” Hilt shrugged.
“Then are you with us, Mister Hilt?” asked Rickenbacker, his hand outstretched and waiting to be shaken.
“For the minute, dabbler,” Hilt replied, shaking the professor’s hand.
“He didn’t like me much, did he?” said Laurel, already missing the familiar weight of the key about her person.
“I’m sure you’ll grow on him,” Brennan offered.
A great echo
