He dangled it out there like a dare, and his eyes dared her, too, the offer an obvious lure. She liked Gregor, but she didn’t altogether trust him, so she hesitated a long, long while before finally giving in to her curiosity.

What she said to him was a dare in its own way, too. A test. Because she didn’t believe he would know, and he’d be exposed as all bluster and bullshit.

She really should have known better by now.

“All right, Gregor, if you’re so smart, tell me where I was born.”

“That’s an easy one, lass,” he scoffed quietly, holding her gaze. “Hampshire, southern England, a fancy manor house called Sommerley. Town named after it, too, hidden deep in the New Forest, surrounded by stone walls three times the height of a man.” He paused, gauging her astonishment. “But you didn’t stay there long.”

An itch began in Lu’s palms. She’d taken the gloves off for her bath, and now her hands were dangerously bare. She put down the half-eaten sandwich and slowly, slowly, slid her hands into her lap.

“You travelled by boat to another place hidden deep in a forest, the Amazon jungle just outside Manaus, Brazil. Your stay there was even shorter: less than a week, as a matter of fact. Then came the Flash. Your Flash. Instigated by the jealousy and total ignorance of Man, intent on wipin’ out what we didn’t understand.”

Lu held herself perfectly still, though all her nerves screamed for action. For something. The animal always slumbering in her veins cracked open yellow, slitted eyes, lifting its head.

“Your next trip wasn’t by water. This time it was by air.” His voice was growing quieter and quieter, his attention never wavering from her face. “The flight was short, but by the end of it, you had a new home. New parents. A new life. And those new parents—missionaries they were, dedicated to spreading the word of their God—decided their foundling child should be as far away from the jungle as she could possibly get. Especially since every hunter on Earth now had her in their sights. And so that foundling child wound up in an adopted city with adopted parents who could never really figure out if she was a gift or a curse, but who loved her anyway.” His voice dropped even lower. “And died for it.”

A flare of anger, huge and bright, erupted in her chest. How dare he! “You don’t know anything! My mother died of cancer!”

He was apologetic, at least. “That’s what your father told you. But you were six years old, Lumina. He couldn’t tell you that your mother, convinced you were a demon sent straight from hell after you lit your bed on fire the first time, opened her wrists with a straight razor.”

Lu bolted to her feet, cocked back her arm, and slapped Gregor MacGregor so hard across the face he rocked back, his head jerking to the side.

She shouted, “That’s a lie!”

He exhaled a hard breath, working his jaw where she’d hit him. His gaze flashed to hers. “I lie to keep myself out of trouble or make money, and make no apologies about it. But I’m not lyin’ now, lass, no matter how hard you hit me. And if you want to hear more, you’d better brace yourself. That’s hardly the worst of it.”

Lu stared at him, her heart pounding, a burn working its way up from her palms to her arms. She was so furious she thought her entire body might ignite. “Even if I believed you—which I don’t—how would you know, anyway? And how do you know all that other stuff about me?”

“You think a man like me would let a dangerous fugitive stay in his home without knowin’ all there is to know about her?” He shook his head, answering his own question. “Eliana filled me in where she could, the rest I found out on my own. A lot of people in this world owe me favors, lass. I called in a few.”

Lu began to pace in front of the table, her hands fisted at her sides. He had to be lying. He had to be! Only . . . he didn’t smell or look like he was. There were no telling twitches, no sour scent of deception. And what did he mean by “That’s hardly the worst of it”?

She swung around and demanded, “What else? What about Magnus—what do you know about him?”

His expression guarded, he sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll not tell you if you’re gonna burn down my house, after. Promise me you’ll keep your temper under control.”

That sounded bad. She gave him a curt nod, and resumed her pacing. Unsettled, her stomach lurched and twisted.

Gregor paused a moment, then, looking at the table, asked quietly, “Has he told you how he got all those scars?”

Lu stopped dead in her tracks, turning to look at him. She answered with a shake of her head.

“He’s a strong one, your man, I have to give it to him. I’ve seen pretty much the worst the world has to offer and I’m still standin’, but if I had to walk a mile in that lad’s shoes . . .” Gregor met her eyes, and what she saw there chilled her. “Well, let’s just say I don’t think I could.”

“What do you mean?” Hands shaking, Lu sank down into the chair across the table from him.

Gregor, twisting his pinky ring around with his thumb, asked, “How many people would you have to watch die, before you’d give up a secret? Ten? Twenty? One hundred?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Lu’s skin crawled. She waited, silent, watching his face.

“How about two hundred? How about if they were all your friends? Everyone you loved, grew up with, everyone you knew?” His voice darkened. “And not one of them over the age of fifteen?”

Lu put a hand over her mouth, her stomach lurching violently.

“They thought they could break him,” he said, admiration in his voice. “But they never did. Even when they poured acid on him. Even when they cut him. Even when they tortured and killed each and every one of the children they’d captured that day. He was captured, too, you see, the day of the Flash. Both his parents were killed. All the children were separated from the adults, taken to a different prison in Bolivia. By pure dumb luck, Magnus had heard Morgan screaming in the chaos to get everyone to the caves of Ogof Ffynnon Ddu in Wales, and he made the fatal mistake of telling one of the other children he knew where to go, if only they could all escape. Word spread: Magnus knew. And that was why they targeted him.”

Gregor paused, looked down at his pinky ring. “That . . . and one other thing.” He looked up at her again. “He’d seen the direction the great white dragon had flown, carrying its child to safety. He wouldn’t tell them that, either.”

Lu closed her eyes, sick. He’d saved her. He’d saved the new colony, and countless lives. And in trade, he’d sacrificed two hundred children. Two hundred of his friends.

Dear God.

“They brutalized him for three years in that prison, long after everyone else was dead. Then he came of age. His Gifts manifested. He slaughtered every one of the guards, and walked out breathing, but not really alive. He found his way to Wales. He began to search for other survivors, bringing them back one by one to the colony. And then he found you.”

Lu opened her eyes and stared in mute horror at Gregor. She couldn’t speak. There weren’t any words to convey the depths of her despair, her wretchedness. Her overwhelming, paralyzing heartbreak.

Magnus. Beautiful, ruined Magnus. No wonder he was so broken. It was a miracle he’d survived at all.

Gregor asked softly, “He’s saved your life twice now, lass. Don’t you think you should repay the favor?”

“What do you mean?” Lu whispered, shaking.

“I mean that if he stays with you, it’ll cost him his life. And he’s more than willin’ to pay.”

The automatic No! died on her lips, because with awful clarity the words Demetrius had spoken came flooding back, burned like a brand into her mind.

Cogs in the machine, Seeker, all of us. You know it as well as I.

And Magnus’s expression of recognition, of resignation, his fleeting look in her direction that was so foreboding she’d felt certain it was something terrible, equally certain he’d never tell her what.