“Are you sure this is the right house?” Gallagher stared up at the tall gate—the main entrance to the sprawling grounds. Jane assumed it wasn’t the elaborate wrought-iron sculpture of thorny rose vines that made him balk, but the subtle repulsion the whole property gave off. They’d driven by it twice without realizing they’d passed.
She gripped the letter she’d received and triple-checked. “Grandmaster Berkeley’s invitation said we’d doubt it at every turn, so this must be it.”
Since quitting the Pinkerton Detecting Agency, Jane and Hamish had crisscrossed the country, seeking out the components of Gallagher’s spell. Uncle William had helped; he’d included a letter of introduction in her severance package that had opened a lot of doors. Of course, Jane would never tell him that letter mi
