“Bring her back?” she whispered. “Yes,” I said. “The song has been sung to the living. He wants to know what happens when it’s offered to the dead. Am I right, Bryce? You’ve got the same big idea your ancestor had on the Arabella all those centuries ago.” Bryce looked to Renee. “I loved her,” he said. “I love her still. And you? You have the arrogance to look at me with blame. To see her now”—he waved at the casket—“and say this is my fault. When you were the one who coerced her into removing every protection, every caution, every protocol. Together, she and I were going to change the world.
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