He goggled at her impossible knowledge. “How…?”
“My island tells me things. And it is also, to a lesser extent, your island. We both want to keep Galbraith from destroying her, and we both want to go home. In united purpose, at least, you are perfectly suited to my needs.”
That much was true. There was a persistent tug in the back of his mind, like the need to comfort a weeping friend, drawing him back toward Scotland. If she felt anything similar, then yes, they were united in purpose. At least for as long as she remained lucid. But…
“You realize,” he said slowly, “that when I killed your companion, that was a mistake.” He tensed for flight, not that it would have done any good, watching her face carefully. “I was supposed to be killing you.”
She only stared at him, and he was not sur
