LXII

Emma had been expecting the young Master, and walked forward to greet him. "When you did not return, I was worried you'd been killed. Lyla assured me you were not—said she could feel you still lived."

There had been no chance to sneak off with Leslie demanding so much of his time. Three days he'd worked on translating the Followers' written language. Every hour they learned more, but at the cost of time he needed to be with Lyla. Had he been here, he could have stopped Lyla's lunacy. "Do you know what she did?"

Nodding, Emma gave a tired smile. "I do."

Luke held up the crumpled flyer. "How could you allow it, Emma?" "There is no stopping that girl now." Emma gripped his arm, trying to get the boy to see what was right before him. "There is no stopping what's coming."

Luke cocked his head and had to agree. "You're right. Lyla unleashed a storm of trouble with this shit."

"Luke—"