Enemy Of My Enemy “Don’t ever let me go off alone that long again,” Gwen was saying, and Morgaine decided to interrupt before she was sickened. She wasn’t sure she could have taken all the over the top lovey-doveyness Connor and Gwen were so fond of, and it seemed even fonder of than usual after Gwen was tortured for information and Connor was nearly killed while they were apart for five days, even if blood issues to turn the stomach of any decent, self-respecting person hadn’t been involved.
“Can you two talk about this later?” she asked. “We’ve got to move, unless you both want to die.”
“I can think of worse ways to go,” Gwen murmured, resting her head against Pseudo-Pierce’s shoulder.
Morgaine stared for a moment, suddenly seeing a new benefit to whatever deficiency in her which kept her from loving men the way other women, normal women, did. She had thought, when Father had them on New Year’s Eve, that she’d put Merrill’s life ahead of her own if it came to that, and if she knew she was going to die she supposed she’d prefer not to be alone even if she’d rather not have her company touching her so much and didn’t think it was in her to demand that anyone she knew do something like stand by her deathbed, but there were no circumstances under which that last line of Gwen’s would ever come out of her mouth. It wasted time that could go toward finding ways not to die.
She decided, after that moment of contemplation, not even to acknowledge it, instead saying, “Luckily, you don’t have many things here to begin with – “ she still winced when she thought of the bills she’d gotten from the tailor, though, but they’d had to have something to wear, and Gwen in particular had needed to look the part of the patriarch’s sister she was, though Morgaine, who’d been wearing the same set of black dresses since her sister’s apparent death, did think Gwen could have gone in for fewer colors – “but get it together as fast as you can while I go to the bank.”
Something shifted in Gwen’s eyes, and Morgaine mentally sighed in relief. No more stupidity, at least for the moment. “What are you going to do?” she asked, her blue gaze sharp, calculating. She was paying attention now.
“I’m moving as much of the North Carolina money as I can without ruining Cath or Meredith – or calling down Conroy right now – into other accounts,” she said, grimacing in distaste. “I’ve specified it goes back if we all die, and I’ll put it back somehow if I live. I hate to do it, but I can’t risk having nothing to live on for a while.”
“What about the branch money?”
“Already in my vault, but it’s not enough to start over on if we have to.” She ran a hand over her face. “I hope it won’t come to that, but Thomas moving against you two twice in a week makes me think it’s going to be.” She took a bag of money out of her pocket and handed it to Gwen. “There’s an addres on the paper in there. Burn it once you know it, and go redheaded or something and check the two of you in under false names. Try to make it sound realistic. No Smith, and don’t use that name you had, what was it – “
“Dawson,” Gwen said impatiently. “And of course I won’t. I’m not stupid, Morgaine.”
“Neither have you spent two years learning the family, reading Father’s papers, and being paranoid,” Morgaine said. “If you don’t hear from me in a day, run. It means someone’s bought the Aurors.”
“What?” Pseudo-Pierce asked. “What exactly are you planning to do?”
“Define my priorities,” Morgaine replied sourly, disliking this as much as she had from the moment she realized what she had to do.