Now Zoe turned to Brad. “Is that so?”

“We were sixteen,” he muttered.

“As if that makes it better.”

“Scold him later,” Dana demanded. “Let’s pull this thread through.”

“I saw her walking on the parapet,” Jordan continued. “In the moonlight. Washed in light and shadows with her cloak streaming in a wind that wasn’t there. I thought she was a ghost, and when I wrote her I drew her as one. Lonely, trapped in the night and weeping for the day. But she wasn’t a ghost.”

Dana laid a hand on his knee. “She was a goddess.”

“She was Rowena. I understood that today, when I went to see them at the Peak. I didn’t know what it meant until now.”

“You were the first to see her,” Dana said softly. “And you wrote of her, in whatever form. You gave her another kind of substance, another kind of world. She, the key holder. The key’s in the book.”

Her hand trembled as it slid into place for her. “The white field with black lines across. Words on a page. And the key melted into it. Into the page. The book.” She sprang to her feet. “Flynn, you’ve got a copy.”

“Yeah.” He looked around the room. “I’m not exactly sure where. I haven’t unpacked everything yet.”

“Why should you? You’ve only lived here nearly two years. Well, find it,” Dana demanded.

He gave her a weary look, then rose. “I’ll go upstairs and look.”

“I’ve got a copy at home,” Zoe put in. “A paperback. I’ve got all your books, but my budget doesn’t run to hardcovers,” she said in apology.

Jordan reached over, yanked her hand to his lips. “You are the sweetest thing.”

“I could go get it. I might be able to bring it back before Flynn finds his.”

“Give him a little time.” Malory glanced at the ceiling, imagining Flynn upstairs rummaging through boxes. “I’ve got a copy, too, and my place is closer if it comes to that.” Then she stopped, lifted the index fingers on both hands. “What do you want to bet we all have copies of Phantom Watch?”

“Well, I certainly do,” Jordan confirmed.

“And me,” Brad agreed.

“Yeah. Clink, clink, clink,” Dana said. “That’s the sound of links fusing on the chain. Come on, Flynn, how hard can it be to find a book?”

“When’s the last time you’ve been up in one of those spare rooms?” Malory asked.

“Good point.” She began to pace. “It’s in there. It’s in there. I know it. I’ll go up and find it myself.”

She spun toward the doorway just as Flynn came jogging down the stairs.

“Got it. Hah. It was in a box labeled ‘Books.’ I didn’t know I had a box labeled ‘Books.’ ” He handed the book to Dana.

She ran her hand over it, hoping for some sort of sign, and studied the silhouette of Warrior’s Peak brooding under a full moon. She opened it, fanned the pages, and smelled paper and dust.

“Where’s the line, Jordan?”

“It’s the end of the prologue.”

She turned the first few pages, read the words in her head, spoke them out loud. Waited.

“I don’t feel anything. I should feel something. Malory?”

“There was an awareness, a kind of knowing. It’s hard to explain.”

“But I’d know it if I felt it,” Dana finished. “And I don’t. Maybe I have to read it, get the whole picture. The way you had to paint the whole portrait before you could reach the key.”

“I wonder . . .” Zoe hesitated. “Well, I just wonder if maybe it’s not in that book, because that book’s not yours. Jordan wrote it, so all the copies are his in a way. But only one is yours. And you’re the key, so wouldn’t it make more sense for it to have to be your own book?”

Dana stared at her, then grinned. “Zoe, that’s absolutely brilliant. Okay, troops, saddle up. Let’s move this to my place.”

“I’ll be right behind you.” Zoe picked up her purse. “I’ll just run Simon home and see if my neighbor will sit with him.”

“Let me just get rid of these boxes. Zoe, I’m going to wrap up some of this leftover pizza for Simon.”

Life, Dana decided, didn’t stop. Not even for magic keys and wicked sorcerers. And wasn’t that why it was life?

“Meet us there after you’re done the domestic stuff.” She grabbed Jordan’s hand, headed for the door. “And you could wrap up some slices for me while you’re at it.”

Chapter Nineteen

“DID you read the book, or did you just say you read the book?” Jordan asked as they drove back to her apartment.

“Why would I just say I read it?”

“Beats me. But you said just the other day that you’d never been in a book before. So I figured you’d never read Phantom Watch.”

“You lost me.”

“Did you read the book?”

“Yes, damn it. I hated that book. It was so good, and I wanted it to suck. I wanted to be able to say, See, he’s no big deal. But I couldn’t. I was going to toss it out, even fantasized briefly about burning it.”

“Jesus, you were pissed.”

“Oh, brother, let me tell you. Of course, I couldn’t burn a book. My librarian’s soul would wither and die. I couldn’t toss it out, either, for much the same reason. And I could never bring myself to turn it in at the used bookstore or just give it away.”

“I haven’t seen any of my books in your apartment.”

“You wouldn’t. They’re camouflaged.”

He took his eyes off the road to laugh at her. “Get out.”

“I didn’t want people seeing I had your books. I didn’t want to see I had your books. But I had to have them.”

“So you read Phantom Watch, but you didn’t recognize Kate.”

“Kate?” She reached back in her memory. “The heroine? Ah . . . good brain, a little arrogant about it. Strong-willed, self-reliant, content in her own company—which is why she took all those long walks and ended up with that fascination for the Peak—or the Watch, I should say.”

She dug back a little deeper, let the image form. “Had a mouth on her. I admired that. A tendency toward crankiness, especially toward the hero, but you couldn’t blame her. He asked for it. A small-town girl, and happy to stay that way. Worked in, what was it, this little antiquarian bookshop, which is what put her in the villain’s cross-hairs.”