“For now,” came the hoarse whisper. “Fin, you can’t be here.”

Her head jerked up, tears drying up. “Don’t you dare start in on that nonsense. I’m here to save you, Griffin King, and I’m not leaving the Aether without you.”

“He’s locked me here. I can’t escape. I can’t even summon the Aether. He’s won.”

“Don’t say that.”

“As long as he has me, he won’t bother you.”

“You’re an idiot,” she informed him. “And I am so pissed at you for asking me to leave you. How dare you! Aside from that, Garibaldi will come for each of us before he’s done with you, just to make you suffer a little bit longer.”

“I know, but if you leave me it will give you more time to prepare, to figure out how to beat him.”

“Bollocks. This ends now. I don’t care how we have to do it, but I didn’t die just to have you tell me to give up. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve missed you.”

No more tears. They’d had their chance. “I miss you, too.”

“How did you get here? You didn’t really die, did you?”

It would be an absurd conversation under different circumstances. “Tesla suit—with some modifications. How do I get you out of these restraints?”

“He’s using my own abilities against me. Remove the connections from my head and chest and the shackles should open themselves.”

Finley reached up to remove the wires from his head. The first one came away with blood on it. “Griffin...” Her stomach rolled.

The connectors were in him.

“I know,” he whispered. “Just do it, love.”

Fingers trembling, she pulled another free—and saw him wince. “I can’t do this.”

“You can,” he insisted. “If you want to free me you have to. It’s not that bad. Keep going.”

He was a horrible liar, but one thing he said was true—if she wanted to free him she had to do this. When she got a hold of Garibaldi she was going to kick his arse so hard he’d spend the rest of eternity spinning in circles. Gritting her teeth, she reached for another wire, and then another and another.

Finally, she had removed them all. Just as Griffin predicted the shackles clicked open. It was her turn to wince when she saw his battered ankles and wrists. Blood trickled down his naked chest and dripped down his face. She wiped at the sticky mess with the sheet from the bed.

“I want to kiss you but we have to leave,” he said. “Now.”

She stood and helped him off the bed. He was so weak he had to lean on her. She had carried him before and didn’t mind doing so again, but the sight of him weakened cut deep into the meat of her. They made their way toward the window, where Ipsley suddenly appeared.

“Good to see you, Your Grace,” he said. “Miss Jayne, I found someone—”

“Later,” she cut him off. “Garibaldi has to know we’re here by now.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than the door to the room flew open and in walked the man himself.

In life Garibaldi had been a fairly attractive man of Italian descent with a metal hand and a mind ravaged by revenge and madness. In death he was perhaps even more handsome, but in a dark and sinister manner. He was dressed impeccably in a black frock coat, black trousers and black boots. Only his cravat had color and it was a dark, rich red.

“How wonderful,” he said, his voice deeper and louder than she remembered. “Guests! I must admit, I had hoped you would come but doubted you would be able to make such hopes a reality. Miss O’Brien is one intelligent little girl.”

Of course he would give all the credit to Emily. That was fine—Emily was brilliant. But didn’t Finley deserve some praise for being the one reckless enough to hop into a death suit and cross over to save the bloke she loved?

Oh, God. She loved Griffin. While not a new thought, the depth of meaning behind it finally hit her. She loved him. As in loved him more than her own life. Loved him more than biscuits or hot chocolate. She loved him so much that she’d risked her life for him and hadn’t even thought of how her own death might pain her mother and stepfather. She hadn’t thought of anything but saving him.

This puffed up rooster was not going to have him.

“Ipsley,” Finley said, not taking her eyes off Garibaldi. “Some help here.”

Before the medium could even reply, Garibaldi raised his hand and sent a blast of energy spiraling at him, knocking him out the window.

“Finley, run,” Griffin commanded, struggling to hold himself upright. His eyes began to glow faintly with blue power. It wasn’t going to be enough. He wasn’t strong enough to face The Machinist, and the villain had filled himself up on Griffin’s power.

“No,” she replied, standing at his side, letting him lean on her. “I’m not leaving without you.”

“How touching!” Garibaldi grinned at them. “And you’re right, Miss Jayne. You’re not leaving. Ever.” He tossed a bolt of energy at her. She barely managed to dodge in time and the heat of it brushed her hair. She could smell the burn.

Griffin fired back, but his aim was off and the bolt struck the wall by Garibaldi’s head. He laughed. Finley had never wanted to kill anyone so much in her entire life—not even Lord Felix. She looked around for something to throw at him or use as a weapon or shield.

The light around Garibaldi’s hands grew even hotter and brighter. If he hit her—and he most likely would—it was really going to hurt. She didn’t fool herself that he’d kill her so quickly. She pulled Griffin toward the window. “We have to get out of here.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Garibaldi fired again, and just as Finley braced herself for the blow, putting herself between him and Griffin, she was grabbed by a pair of strong hands and propelled closer to the window. A man held up an odd-looking shield that seemed to absorb Garibaldi’s blast.

“Damn you, Thomas!” The Machinist shouted.

Thomas? Finley glanced at their savior as he shoved both her and Griffin out the window. Good God, it couldn’t be... Then, he looked at her as they plummeted toward the ground, and she knew for certain who he was.

Her father.

* * *

Falling. It felt a lot like flying.

Garibaldi watched them from the window as they plummeted to the ground. He smiled at Griffin—even raised his hand in farewell. It wasn’t over between them, not by any stretch of the imagination. It wouldn’t be over until one of them was destroyed completely.

The fall seemed to take forever even though the wind tore through his hair, and The Machinist fell away. Griffin could still see his enemy so clearly, was aware of so much around him, as though time had slowed. Was this how it felt to be Jasper?

He should have told Finley about her father, but there hadn’t been time. Should have prepared her. Thank God Thomas had come back when he did. When he’d disappeared Griffin had thought Garibaldi had something to do with it—that the villain was onto them. He was now.

He wasn’t a violent person, but he’d like to kick Garibaldi’s smug smile off his face. He couldn’t even feel the Aether. Damn it, where was it? It was all around him, why couldn’t he feel it?

“Let go,” whispered a voice.

Griffin turned his head. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the ground rushing up to meet him, but somehow they were still miles above it. There, in the forefront of his vision was a beautiful young woman. He recognized her immediately—she was his mother. She smiled that serene smile he always associated with times he’d been naughty in a way that amused her.

“Just let go,” she told him. “Let it all go.”

He frowned. How could she tell him to do that when Garibaldi was such a threat? Or did she mean that he should let go of life and die? That would make sure Finley was protected, wouldn’t it? No, but it would make it easier for him to fight Garibaldi.

God, he didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to say goodbye to his friends, to Finley. He would, though, if he had to. Drawing a deep breath, Griffin closed his eyes and waited. He waited for death.

Then he hit the ground and there was nothing.

* * *

Finley had no memory of her father, but she had seen photographs of him. In an odd twist of fate, most of those photographs had been in Griffin’s possession as Thomas had worked for the former duke as something of a chemist. It was that partnership that eventually led to her father inventing a potion that was supposed to bring out a man’s full potential, but instead brought out an aggressive nature. Finley was conceived while her father tested the elixir on himself, and the mutation was passed on from father to daughter. Thomas was led to his death during one of his “episodes” by Leonardo Garibaldi. He was shot to death in the street by police who thought he was some sort of lunatic.

She’d only learned the truth about her birth and his death since taking up with Griffin. Prior to that she’d simply thought of herself as a freak, with a monstrous side to her nature that couldn’t be controlled. When her mother revealed the reality of it to her, it had been something of a relief to know that it hadn’t been her own fault that she was different. And then Griffin had helped her with the rest.

She looked a lot like her father, Finley realized. He was tall and lean and his eyes were the same amber color as hers. It was odd that he looked so much younger than her mother, but then he’d been dead for almost fourteen years.

There were so many things she wanted to ask him, not the least of which was how had they managed to escape Garibaldi. One second they were falling out a window and the next they were sitting in a comfortable drawing room with no windows. Griffin had lost consciousness and any questions vanished in the shadow of her concern for him. She sat on the sofa with his head in her lap, running her fingers through his hair as he slept, and looked around.