“Joliette,” Reid said, “in Québec.”
Copeland’s brows rose, and he eagerly pressed, “But where?”
Silas retrieved a chair from the dining room and joined us at the breakfast nook. From across the table, where he sat between Nina and Copeland, Reid leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
“He led me to a field in the middle of nowhere. Threw us both over the edge of a cliff. He died in midair, alongside a waterfall. Really was a picturesque way to go.”
I rolled my eyes.
Copeland was frowning. “You fell off a cliff?”
“Yes.”
“How did you not die?”
“Black magic bullshit, from what I gather.”
“They fell onto a ledge,” I clarified, “not all the way down.”
Copeland nodded and chewed the inside of his cheek briefly. “So, this was nowhere near any human cities?”
“Not
