by Bec McMaster
Friendship was a blurred line, but the truth remained. Perry was the reason he’d never found anyone. He cared for her. Deeply, irrevocably. The idea of not having her in his life left a gaping hole somewhere in the region of his chest.
Not going to happen.
Garrett glanced behind himself, then reached out and hooked a chair with his boot, dragging it closer. He slumped into it, dragging her into his lap and pressing her head against his chest. “Shush… I’ve got you,” he whispered, rocking her gently. “Just breathe, love. Deep, slow breaths. You’re safe. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”
The burning truth of that statement almost crushed his chest. He pressed another frantic kiss to her forehead, then took her hand and slid it through the opening of his coat, directly over the steady thump of his heart. “There you are. Just listen to my heart. Listen to it beat. All for you, love. All of it for you.”
Long, slow minutes followed. The men stayed away, which he grudgingly had to thank Byrnes for. There were enough rumors in the guild without bringing Perry into the heart of them. She’d always abhorred gossip, particularly about herself. If anyone saw them like this, there’d be no denying that they weren’t just partners.
Not anymore.
Even if he didn’t know what that precisely left them at.
Garrett’s lips trailed across her cheek, listening to the soft sound of her breathing. She’d calmed down now, but she hadn’t moved. Just lying there, listening to his heart. Her palm splayed wide over his bare chest. Somehow she’d wriggled her fingers between the gaps in his shirt. He’d been in such a hurry that he hadn’t bothered with his armored waistcoat or even the leather body armor he usually wore when out on patrol. The feel of that small hand splayed over his bare chest rocked him to the core.
The minutes ticked by. He wasn’t usually given to silence, but she was. She would speak when she needed to and not before.
“I’m a coward,” she whispered. Those gray eyes looked up at him. So lost.
“That’s ridiculous. You’re the least likely coward I’ve ever met.”
Perry shook her head and tried to brush the hair off her hot face. “I was so frightened. I haven’t had one of my hysterical fits for…for years.” Her lip trembled, gaze growing distant.
Garrett took her face in his hands, turning it up to him. “You were hardly hysterical. No more than I was.” His voice roughened. “I wanted to tear those bloody floorboards up with my bare hands.”
The feel of her skin under his hands was silky soft. He couldn’t stop himself from stroking his thumb against the high curve of her cheekbone. Perry glanced down, as if surprised to find herself on his lap. Or his hands on her face.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“Damn it, don’t be sorry.” Garrett brushed the damp strands of hair off her forehead and leaned back, hands cupping her cheeks. Those gray eyes were red-rimmed but clear of tears. Beautiful. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time all over again. Seeing her, truly seeing her. He stroked his thumbs over her cheeks. Then again. A little more forcefully.
He didn’t know how he was going to make himself let her go. Moving slowly, he slid his arms around her and dragged her in close again. “And I don’t think I’m quite ready to let you stand.” He stroked her hair, nuzzling his face into it. “I need this. Just give me a moment.”
The stiffness in her body melted out of her, bit by bit. Each time he stroked his hand through her hair she softened just a little more. And damn him for a fool, but he liked it.
He could also smell blood. There was a sticky spot at the back of her skull. Garrett’s fingers paused over it. “Are you hurt?”
“No. A little light-headed. And nauseous. My knees don’t feel quite up to taking my weight, either.”
It struck him then that the darkness in him hadn’t risen at the scent of her blood. He was aware of it, of course, but the furious hunger rested inside him. It sat like a heavy weight in his chest. Softened. Lulled. Her hand stroked small circles over the muscle of his pectoral.
Garrett puzzled over that. He’d been so frightened he’d hurt her. But this… It felt right. She felt like she belonged exactly where both he and the hunger wanted her.
Damn, but he wished he had someone to speak of this with. Someone like Lynch, who’d had years to deal with controlling the craving virus. Someone who could give him some bloody advice.
The sound of boots ringing on the metal stairs intruded and Perry tensed. When she scrambled off his lap, he let her. Perry took several steps away from him, her face still paler than he’d ever seen it.
It was Byrnes. Of course. His gaze skated over Perry, then back to Garrett. “You need to come and see this.”
“Is it important?” Garrett asked, shooting her another look. Still far too quiet. Trembling a little, he thought, but holding on to it.
Byrnes nodded grimly. “It’s important.”
Ten
“Do you want to stay up here?”
Garrett’s face slowly came into focus in front of her. Behind him, the Nighthawks had torn half the floor up with hammers and pry bars. The darkness below yawned like an enormous mouth, ready to swallow her up. The instant she thought it, heat washed out of her face, leaving her lips numb again. Deep in her belly, the fear stretched out its claws and let her know it was still there, ready to drag her under again.
Yes. She didn’t want to go anywhere near that…that place. Not again. The thought set her heart racing, a tremble of cold rippling down her spine.
“You don’t have to.” Garrett saw it in her face.
Years ago, she’d fled from something like this, and it had cost her in nightmares that left her curled into a ball in her sheets, desperately trying to hold the sobs inside. Trying to get her lungs to open so that she could breathe again. Time had eased the frequency of her hysterical attacks, until today. She could stay up here, nice and safe, or she could force herself back into that nightmare. Stare it in the face and spit in its eye.
She didn’t want to. But if she didn’t do it now, she knew she’d wake screaming tonight.
Best to face it while she had people around her. Perhaps take a good look at what lurked beneath the factory and chase away some of the shadows. It was just a room. Just another room, full of ghostly girls trapped behind the thin facade of glass. All she had to do was keep telling herself that.
Somehow her head jerked in a nod. “I’m coming down.”
Garrett squeezed her fingers. She hadn’t even noticed he was holding her hand. “I’ll go first,” he said, stepping away and gesturing for a lantern.
“No. I’ll go,” Byrnes said. “Make sure it’s safe. You’re the guild master now.” For once his words held no acid. The way his gaze sidled toward her made her realize that some part of him felt the bite of guilt.
Byrnes dropped into the darkness. Garrett followed, shooting her one last grim look before the shadows swallowed him up.
Perry paused at the edge. “Garrett?”
A light bobbed in the darkness: one of the phosphorescent glimmer balls they sometimes used. “Here. Someone help her down. I’ll catch her.”
If it was anywhere else, she’d have simply stepped off the edge and landed in front of him, just to prove that she didn’t need his help. But she still felt fragile. Thomas held out his hand and Perry took it, letting him lower her over the edge. As her body vanished into the darkness, her lungs sucked in a deep breath. Then another. A little faster. She looked up as Thomas gave her hand a squeeze.
“We’re right here, miss.”
Hands slid up her legs. “I’ve got her,” Garrett called. As Thomas’s hand opened, she dropped into his arms.
Foolish to feel so frightened. And to let them see it too. She’d worked for years to uphold her reputation and make it clear she could do this job. It was harder for he
r. She’d had to prove her worth and value so many times in the last decade, and now young Thomas saw her as just another frightened woman.
“Bloody hell,” Byrnes whispered, lifting the glimmer high as he examined the glass cases. Light rippled through the unearthly blue liquid inside, and the girl he was staring at reached for him. Byrnes scrambled back, his face paling as he tripped and landed in a sprawl. “She’s alive. She’s bloody still alive!”
“Thomas,” Garrett called in a choked voice. “I need you and Atherton. Hayes, send word to the guild. We’ll need Dr. Gibson here now. And the medic van.”
It broke something inside her, staring at that poor girl. Something huge and fierce and choking rose over her, and then Perry was reaching for the pry bar that Byrnes had brought down with him as a weapon.
“Perry…?”
She swung it, driving it straight into the glass. Water spewed out, the girl’s eyes widening inside the case as she fell forward and then Garrett was there, catching the girl as she slumped. Perry smashed the remaining glass out of the way as Garrett gently lifted the wet girl into his arms.
“Perry, stop. We need to do this carefully.” He was looking at her. Trying to get her to focus on him. “Put the bar down.”
Perry lowered it. Not down on the ground. Her heart was thumping so hard in her chest that she felt like she was going to be ill. The skin on one of her bruised knuckles split as her fingers locked around the cold iron. “I can’t.” Choked words. “I can’t put it down.”
“That’s fine. Hold it then, if you’re frightened. Just don’t smash any more of the glass. Byrnes? Your coat?”
Byrnes crawled to his feet, swinging the long leather coat off his shoulders. He held it out and Garrett transferred the girl into his arms. Byrnes closed the coat around her with an oddly gentle movement as Garrett reached for the mask that was strapped around her face. The clips sprang open beneath his touch and the mask eased away from her skin, the white imprint of it gleaming against her cheeks.
“You’re safe,” Garrett murmured. “He can’t hurt you. Not again. I promise.”
“No—” The girl’s face crumpled, her fingers grabbing onto Garrett’s coat as she sobbed. “Please… Please…”
Perry staggered away, unable to watch. It only reminded her of her own helplessness. She could hear Garrett’s voice, though. Gentle words. Doing what he did best. “Byrnes will look after you. You’re safe—”
Safe.
Picking up the lantern, Perry crossed the room, her boots crunching on glass. Behind her she heard Atherton and Thomas land in the darkness, where Garrett swiftly gave them orders. She couldn’t look at the glass cases or the women inside. Instead she stared at the steel examination table at the end of the room.
A surgery. Her hip hit a small rolling cart covered in gleaming implements. Just the sight of them made the heat drain from her face. A single light hung over the table, its bulb darkened. But she could imagine it bright and glaring. Imagine the gleam of it on steel, reflecting back off the scalpel—
—the straps cutting into her as she wriggled and jerked. Locked over her chest and arms, hips and thighs. Trapping her, no matter how much she fought—
“Perry?”
She jerked her hand away from the table. “Yes?”
Garrett stepped around it, his blue eyes burning through her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Better than those poor girls anyway. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivered. Time to prove she was made of firmer pluck than this. To prove it to herself, if nothing else. “What do you want me to do?”
He looked at her, searching for any sign that she was going to suffer another bout of hysteria. Perry’s cheeks burned. How she hated those episodes. The breathing was the worst, because she thought she’d never draw another breath again. It had taken years to learn how to survive them. Years of meditation with Lynch, and surprisingly, the martial art he’d insisted she learn had helped.
“I’m fine,” she repeated, her voice just a little louder. “I want to help.”
Garrett gave a clipped nod. “We’re going to get the other three out. I’ll need you to help me.” He shot one last questioning look at the table, his expression darkening. “Then we need to work out how to locate this bastard and find out what the hell he was doing here.”
***
Water gushed over her, thick and salty. Perry caught the last girl in her arms as she slumped forward out of the tank, her wet stringy hair clinging to Perry’s face. Fingers raked over her, clutching at her arms. Fighting her.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered, staring into those pale green eyes. “You’re safe now.”
For a moment she felt a sense of kinship. This one was the fighter. But unlike Perry, she’d been unable to escape. That could have been her. Locked up like that. Or devil knows what else Hague had intended to do with her. If not for the single buckle that had torn from the straps holding her down, giving her just enough space to free her arm, something like this could have happened to her.
Byrnes helped her unclip the mask from over the girl’s mouth and nose. The suction gave a little pop as they pried it loose, the stale taste of air leaching from it with a hiss. That explained the metal canisters clipped to the walls beside each tank. Aether. The breath of life.
Perry dragged her coat off and draped it around the girl’s shoulders, her wet shirt clinging to her skin.
“Who are you?” the young woman sobbed.
“My name is Miss Lowell.” Hopefully the sight of another female would help to calm the woman. “I’m a Nighthawk. This is Byrnes, one of my companions.”
The woman’s eyes darted. “The…others? I know there were others. I could see them. See what he did to them.”
One of the girls hadn’t been breathing when they removed her from the case and another was in a perilous condition, the scar down her chest red and inflamed. The other Nighthawks had removed both of them to the medic coach where Dr. Gibson was fussing.
Perry gave a little shake of her head. “One is still breathing—her name is Alice. The others… Whatever he did to them, their bodies were fighting it.”
Byrnes shot Perry a warning glance. But if that were her, she would want to know. “What’s your name, miss?” he asked.
“Ava.” Haunted eyes glanced at the examination table, then darted away. “Ava McLaren.”
There was a faint Scottish burr to her voice. Perry stilled. “How long have you been here?”
“Where are we?” A hesitation as Ava swallowed. “The last I knew, I was in Edinburgh. It was May.”
Edinburgh. Perry squeezed her hand, holding on just a little too tightly. Edinburgh was close to the Moncrieff’s family home—and place of exile. “It’s November. And you’re in London. We were investigating a pair of murders in the factory when we found you.”
November, Ava mouthed. Any remaining color drained out of her cheeks, and she swayed in Perry’s arms. It brought Perry’s split knuckles closer to her face, and suddenly the woman stiffened, eyes locking on the torn and bleeding skin, her irises darkening.
A blue blood. Perry’s gaze jerked to Byrnes.
He slid his arms around Ava, tugging her tight against his chest as he stood. “I’ve got her,” he murmured. “You should see if you can stop the bleeding.”
What were the odds of the woman having the craving virus? A woman who’d been held captive by a man who liked to cut out girl’s hearts? It wasn’t the same circumstances as Hague—just similar enough to make something tighten in her chest.
For a moment she was frozen, then Perry leaped after them, yanking at Byrnes’s arm. “What did he do to you, Miss McLaren?” The words were harsh, but her heart was hammering in her ears. “Did he inject you with anything? Then cut you with a scalpel?”
“Perry,” Byrnes snapped, turning his shoulder as if to ke
ep her away from the girl. “Bloody hell, give her time to catch her breath.”
Then they were gone and she had no answers other than those her mind could supply—and those she could imagine only too well.
Hague.
It had to be Hague. Didn’t it?
***
“I never…I never knew, I swear. They been ’ere, all along, ain’t they?” Mr. Mallory stood by the door to the factory, twisting his cap in his hands as he watched them put the bodies of the first two girls in the medic van.
Garrett clapped a hand on his shoulder. “We need to ask you a few questions about your missing overseer, Mr. Sykes.”
“Anythin’ you need,” Mallory replied, tears wetting his eyes as he watched Dr. Gibson slam the door shut on the medic coach.
“Has anybody seen him?” Garrett asked. “None of my Nighthawks can locate him. There’s been no answer at his address.”
“You think he did this?”
“We’re not certain,” Garrett replied. “He is, however, a person of interest.”
“No, I ain’t seen him. Don’t speak much, outside of work. He don’t seem to speak much to anyone, actually. Just locks himself up in that little room up there, goin’ over the books. Comes out every once in a while and just watches. Not like most overseers I’ve worked with. People don’t—they don’t like to cross him.”
“Has he made any threats against anyone?” Garrett’s instincts sharpened.
“No, quiet manner he has. Don’t ever raise his voice. Just…watches. It gives a man the right shivers, it does.”
“How long has he been here?”
“Near on six months as I can recollect. I wouldn’t know the precise date.”
Garrett asked several other questions but it was clear Mallory was shaken. Not even the ECHO could catch his interest this time around.
Outside it was mayhem. People strained along the fences, howling for details. He could see one or two familiar faces—the press with their bulbous cameras. Lurking about for him, no doubt. Well, they’d have to wait. He had more pressing matters to deal with. Gibson had pronounced the second girl dead and suspected an infection in her blood, considering the recent surgery. Alice had been subdued with a dose of laudanum and the doctor was seeing to her now.
