Two will come,

They'll break your heart.

Can never be together

Nor apart.

When you meet the final hour,

They will find infinite power.

"What does it mean?" Reine repeated Sylvana's ominous words as they sped south in the Rolls, away from Scoby Castle and the dislocated spirits of other immortals.

Morgan reached across the seat and patted her hand. "No idea, love. I've been goin' over it in my head, too, but it's just a bunch o' bollocks. I mean, how much more infinite power could someone get than immortality? But if the prediction's referrin' to Max and Gabe, then they wouldn't even gain that through yer death. I don't care what they say, gypsies don't have the proper skills for witchcraft. Just a pretender she is! Always hated that bitch and now I know why."

Reine squeezed Morgan's hand in a show of solidarity. "I felt something, too. Something bad the moment I first saw her. She's got nothing on a Pendle, that's for sure." She smiled before cocking an eyebrow. "Which reminds me . . . what other useful talents have you been hiding from us, Miss Morgan?"

"Nothing else I can reveal in polite company, darlin'," she said and the young women both giggled at the insinuation, temporarily ignoring the darkness surrounding them.

When they regained their composure, Reine turned the conversation serious again. "I'm actually glad that you wanted to ride back with me because I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Sure, honey. What is it?"

"Well, Greer mentioned back at her party that there used to be someone even older than Emery Wescott. Someone who had the first right to lead the Order, but he disappeared and that's how Wescott got the job. Do you know anything about who that was?" she asked.

Morgan slowly nodded and her lips twisted into a mischievous smile. Her eyes practically sparkled as she began the story. "Oh, yes. I've heard the gossip. The juiciest ones travel the best, ya know. Word is the good ole Mrs. Wescott - well before she became Mrs. Wescott, ya know - was involved with a Roman general. He was a tough old soldier who'd been in the Isles since Hadrian's time. They'd had a right hot affair, but when the previous head of the Order kicked the bucket thanks to too much gin mixed with too much stupid, the Roman refused to step into the position. Don't know what exactly happened, but pretty soon Greer was with Wescott, who was now head immortal, and the other poor bugger was nowhere to be found."

Reine's eyes widened, and she almost whispered the question on the tip of her tongue. "Do you think Wescott had him killed to take over the Order?"

Morgan shrugged. "Anything's possible. Yeah, I wouldn't put it past him."

They both sat in silence, each contemplating this realization in her own way. The scenery remained mostly unchanged until the car unexpectedly began to exit the highway. Looking around to see where they were, Reine noticed the rest of their convoy wasn't with them.

"I thought we were going back to London," she said, glancing at Morgan.

"What? We're not?" The girl asked as she leaned closer to her window and peered out at the flat, English countryside.

Reine shook her head. "You're a terrible actress. You knew we were taking a detour, didn't you?" she asked just as the car turned at a stop sign and headed toward a stadium-like structure.

The girl pursed her lips in a playful admission of guilt. "After you see the reason, I don't think you'll mind." She finally smiled.

"Really? You're going to continue being secretive?" Reine rolled her eyes as they pulled into a half-empty parking lot. She didn't press any further because a few seconds later, the car stopped and the door on her side opened.

The sun in the background cast a shadow as a looming figure put one arm on the car's roof and leaned in. "We need to talk." He chose to forgo any formalities.

Recognizing the familiar voice, Reine practically flew out of her seat into his arms. "Max!"

Unprepared for the welcome, he took a small step backward to steady himself. His grip around her shoulders, however, remained tight as Reine buried her face in his chest.

"I'll wait for you here. Take as long as you need," Morgan called out, before the car's door slammed shut.

Too many conflicting thoughts about Max's return were swimming around in her head, but Reine's foremost realization was how much she'd missed him. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she stalled for a few more seconds as she breathed in his scent and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeats. Although the action helped her focus, the fact she was being so clingy and he wasn't in the least bit resisting suddenly made her uncomfortable.

Gently pushing him away, she crossed her arms and raised her voice above the mechanical humming that permeated the air. "Where have you been?"

"Does that really matter? I'm here now." He mimicked her stance with a sly grin.

His cavalier attitude annoyed her and she took a deep breath to avoid saying anything she'd later regret before continuing. "All right. Let's try this again. What are you doing here?"

He continued to smile. "I wanted to see if the spirits told you what you wanted to hear."

"You could have asked Morgan that." Reine said with a frown.

Turning serious, Max tilted his head slightly to the side. "Well, did they?"

"Yes. And no. All we got was a riddle that doesn't make too much sense." She rubbed the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut.

"That's too bad," he said.

Peering through her lashes, she looked him straight in the eyes. "Right. I'm sure you're quite disappointed."

"In fact, I am. You deserve answers." Max shifted his weight from one leg to the other as he uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Reine began to laugh uncontrollably. "You're kidding right? Because you've probably been withholding more information than anyone else from me, and you have the nerve to say I deserve answers?"

He lowered his eyes and avoided her gaze. "Well, I guess that's why . . . why I'm really here. It's time I told you the truth."

Reine's face turned solemn and she stared at the man standing in front of her with disbelief. Although his unshaved facial scruff had grown into a rather fetching goatee, the dark circles under his eyes hinted at restless nights, making him almost seem sincere.

"All right. Let's say I believe you." She bit her lip. "But why now?"

Slowly raising his head, Max chose his words carefully. "Because I had a plan, but it started falling apart almost immediately. I thought I could make things right, and it just spiraled out of my control. After some . . . introspection, I now know this is the only way I can salvage whatever's still left."

The thought of Max failing at something caused Reine to inadvertently smile, until she remembered that the failure of his plan - whatever it was - had led them to the current situation. Gabe was gone, she was alone, and Max was a wanted man.

"Wait. Are you safe here?" Remembering he wasn't exactly welcome in England - on the Order of Westminster's territory - suddenly made her very aware of the people walking to and from their cars around them.

"You're right. We shouldn't be doing this out here. Let's go inside," he said as he motioned past the ticket booths behind a high metal fence.

The background noise continued to get louder as they approached and soon sounded more and more like the roar of engines. After flashing some sort of passes at the attendant, Max ushered Reine in the direction marked 'Main Grandstand.'

"Is this what you've been doing since the trial? Hiding out from the Council?" she asked along the way.

"More or less. I needed to think things over."

"So there was never a Council member from Latvia you needed to pick up?"

Max chuckled. "Of course there wasn't anyone from fucking Latvia."

After reaching the stacked spectator seating, they finally had a clear view of both the asphalt track that passed directly below and the pit boxes containing the machines and riders. The sleek - and most likely extremely powerful - motorcycles would've all looked the same to Reine except for their various colors. Mesmerized by the sight, she watched as several pulled out of the pit lane and sped off onto the track.

Expecting more spectators than the handful around them, she hesitantly guessed at the event's purpose. "Is this a race?"

"Track day," Max corrected. "You look radiant, by the way."

The unexpected compliment drew Reine's attention back to the man next to her, who was intently watching her. "Thanks, but I feel as big as a house." She self-consciously bit her lower lip.

He smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Nonsense. Pregnancy suits you."

"Stop! Just stop, Max." She forcefully brushed his hand away. "You said you wanted to talk, so talk."

He nodded and turned forward in his seat. Resting his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands. He didn't look up, but his voice was strong.

"Everything Sylvana said at the trial was true." Max paused to let the statement sink in. "I would've rather had you as a blank slate than come to me loving someone else. No matter how she felt about you, Syl would have never harmed you if I hadn't asked her to."

While he spoke, Reine's gaze darted along the back of his head, watching the sun reflect off his dark brown locks. As soon as he turned quiet and looked back up, she shifted her eyes downward.

Although they were resting in her lap her hands were trembling, and the more she tried to make them stop, the worse it got. Oddly though, she couldn't feel her hands shaking. Reine couldn't feel anything at all; Max's revelation had made her entire body go numb.

It wasn't because he'd confessed to ordering her death in Venice. She'd already suspected him of that. She may have even understood and accepted his reasoning behind it. What she couldn't have imagined was that he'd go any further.

Finding her voice again, she looked Max in the eyes and asked one word. "Everything?"

He didn't hesitate. "Yes. I killed Gabe Moran."