Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 347

As Chris liked to put it, people her age usually had plenty of energy—eight or nine out of ten, easy.

But Sylvia? She was running on half that, if she was lucky.

And she’d even been warned to ration what little she had left.

Maybe that was just the price of getting a second chance at life.

Sylvia snapped back to reality, trying to act cool and carry on.

But the man beside her gave a little wave of his hand. “Go check out the front.”

Mr. Lennon, ever the eager host, jumped in, “Good eye, Mr. Rupert. All the rare gems are up there. This way, please.”

Rupert nodded and walked past Sylvia, barely glancing her way.

Suddenly, Sylvia felt a rush of warmth in her palm. She froze, startled.

Once everyone else had moved ahead, she opened her hand.

A palm-sized hand warmer, soft and pink, sat in her palm.

How on earth did Rupert have something like this?

“Sylvia!” Mr. Lennon called from up ahead.

“Coming!”

She clutched the hand warmer, hurrying to catch up.

The gemstone gallery was dim, lit only by spotlights over the display cases. Around them, the dark made it hard to see more than people’s outlines.

Sylvia stood near the edge, ready to chime in and clap at Mr. Lennon’s every dramatic pitch.

The crowd shifted around her, and suddenly a clean, cool scent swept in. Someone’s breath was warm against her ear.

She tried to move, but a hand closed gently over hers.

“Still freezing?” a low voice murmured, meant for her ears alone. Sylvia stiffened, trying to pull away, but he only drew her closer.

She couldn’t budge. She hissed quietly, “Uncle Rupert, are you crazy? There are people everywhere.”

Rupert took his time, rubbing her hand as if he hadn’t heard a word.

Now Sylvia wasn’t cold at all—in fact, she was burning up with nerves, prickling with fear that someone would spot them tangled together.

Just as Mr. Lennon started leading everyone to the next case, Sylvia’s breath caught.

Murder?

Jayson was in trouble!

Sylvia had meant to thank her, but hearing that, she rushed after the woman.

She darted out the back, following a narrow path into a small town.

Sylvia called her name, but the woman didn’t even look back.

By the time Sylvia caught up, she heard a splash—a heavy one—followed by the woman’s frantic sobs.

“Help! Please, help! Jayson!”

Sylvia looked over and saw two men in dark coats brushing off their hands and getting into a car.

In the river, a boy was struggling.

“Mom… Mom…” came Jayson’s desperate voice.

Kicking off her heels and tearing off her veil, Sylvia dove straight into the water.