“Well, Lucy, it seems we have much to discuss,” Mara said.
“First, tell me why you have Rowena’s compact and how it is that you were able to answer my call.”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘answering your call,’ but I can tell you how I came to possess the compact.”
“Go on then.”
Mara took a deep breath. “I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, Lucy.” She hesitated. “Rowena is . . . dead.”
“What? Dixon? Dixon! Oh, dear Ehyeh,” Lucy moaned.
“It’s true. It happened just days ago. I am so dreadfully sorry,” he said.
Her eyes closed. She moaned. “Dear Good One, it was all for naught! Oh, how awful. Oh, dear, what do we do now?” she lamented. She looked up, her eyes closed, as though in prayer.
“Not all is lost, Lucy,” he said.
Her eyes flashed open. She glared at him. “After all we’ve been through? To bring about the seventh seventh told about—prophesied about . . . waited for . . . longed for?” She shook her head, then moaned. “And to have lost all when the plan was so near to fruition? Oh, this is so devastating. Oh!” she wailed. Her tears flowed. “Oh, all is lost.”
“Not all is lost, Lucy. The child lives.”
She sucked in her breath. She blinked hard and wiped away her tears. Her mouth dropped open as she searched for words.
“The child lives,” he repeated.
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