by Lucy Leroux
“By this time, I knew he would never marry me. I had begun to look for another protector…but I was still angry.” She looked at Amelia. “I hated you and Clarence both.”
“So you plagued with Sir Clarence’s blessing and didn’t care how it affected her,” Viscount Worthing said.
Mrs. Spencer grew red in the face. She fixed her attention on the darkened window and didn’t answer.
“How did it go wrong?” Gideon asked.
“It was about her, of course,” she said, gesturing at Amelia. “He wanted finer control over the creature, and over larger distances. One had to be quite close to manipulate it. By then, you had made your intentions clear. You were going to make Amelia your countess. But Sir Clarence intended to stop you.”
She broke off and shrugged. “I don’t know if he planned to kill you with the golem or simply carry Amelia away. We quarreled over his plans. I reminded him of his promises to wed and he spat on me. He told me he’d never marry Amelia, a cit’s daughter, so why would he wed gutter trash like me?”
Her eyes were blazing, hurt fueling her words. “In a rage, I raised the golem and I strangled him with it.”
Gideon glanced at Amelia, but her face was impassive. He knew Mrs. Spencer was leaving some details out. He’d seen the body and Sir Clarence hadn’t been merely strangled.
“But he’s a part of it now, isn’t he?” Gideon asked.
The words hung in the air, unacknowledged, but he knew he was right. Some part of Clarence lived in the beast now. The way it reacted to Amelia in the woods—the way it had touched her was proof.
The witch opened her mouth. “I didn’t know that could happen. I still don’t know how…except…”
“Except what?” His temper strained, making the words clipped.
“Part of the ritual giving Clarence control over the golem involved using his blood. We used it to write the words that fuel it, a mixture of the holy and the profane. His name is also part of the script we placed in the creature’s mouth.” She shook her head. “Consequently, the creature possessed a bit of his anima. That is how he controlled it.”
“And when you used it to kill him, it took more of this anima?” That would explain the creature’s behavior.
If it absorbed even a fraction of Sir Clarence’s twisted desire for Amelia… Gideon’s jaw clenched tight as he suppressed a shudder.
Her shrug was infuriating, but he fought hard not to let it show. “I believe so. It stopped responding to my commands then and there. It’s wild now. I don’t know how to stop it.”
Those last words cast a pall over the others in the room. They had come here hoping for answers and a way to put an end to the menace once and for all. Answers they now had, but not a solution.
Everything Mrs. Spencer had told them confirmed his worst fears—there was a monster out there, and it wanted his wife.
“What about the sacred words? Can’t we simply remove them?” Amelia asked.
Mrs. Spencer’s eyes flared. “I tried. It wouldn’t let me near its mouth.”
Gideon stood and began to pace. “No. If there are some of Clarence’s memories in there—and it appears there are—then it would guard against that.” He stopped and removed the rough pottery finger from the pocket of his waistcoat and held it up.
“What about this? I shot this off with a pistol. Can it regrow fingers or limbs?”
Mrs. Spencer frowned. “I don’t think there are enough pistols in the world…but no, it can’t regrow itself. But if it remembers what Sir Clarence remembers, then perhaps it could try to repair itself.”
Gideon held up a hand. “But what if it had a big enough shock and was shattered all at once?”
“If the blows destroyed the head as well, then yes, but I have to believe that it would fight back.” Mrs. Spencer raised her arm and drew her sleeve up, revealing a string of deep black bruises.
His mind went to the fingerprint marks Sir Clarence had left on Amelia’s arms all those months ago. These were bigger, more misshapen, but the similarity was there.
Hell was too good for his uncle.
“We could try and gather a group of men with axes,” Clarke said, speaking for the first time.
“I doubt you’d find enough that wouldn’t run for cover if they saw such a thing in the flesh—or clay as it were,” Lord Worthing said.
“We only need a few brave souls.”
Amelia swung to face him. “A few? My Lord, we need an army.”
“Which conveniently we have,” he pointed out. “Between the two of us we employ enough servants to make a stand against a besieging army, but we won’t need them to fight. I have something else in mind.”
He glanced at Mrs. Spencer, unsure if he could trust her enough to detail his plans in her presence.
She seemed to understand his reservations. “What about me? Are you going to have me hung? Or burned at the stake?” she asked bluntly.
Gideon and Amelia exchanged a glance. Part of him wanted to absolve the witch. If not for Sir Clarence, she wouldn’t have ended up on this twisted path. But if he was reading her reactions correctly she had taken some pleasure in casting her nefarious spells. She wasn’t remorseful for the damage she had inflected—only for getting caught.
Amelia watched him with her hands folded in her lap. Like the others, she waited for his decree.
Despite being a former spy, Gideon had never had to decide a person’s fate before. He had been a soldier in a way, one who carried out the orders and directives of his superiors—even when he’d been forced to kill.
As an earl, he would eventually make decisions that would profoundly affect the lives of hundreds of people, but this was the first and most direct application of the power of his title.
He made eye contact with Clarke, who seemed to understand his dilemma.
“You can’t stay in England,” he said finally.
Mrs. Spencer paled. “You’re having me transported?”
His nod was short and sharp. “A woman of your abilities will survive well enough on her own in the colonies or Australia. I will even provide you with a small sum to get started—but you can’t stay here. And don’t even think about trying to evade the authorities. Through your actions, you caused the death of at least one innocent man, perhaps more if we investigate what you and Clarence got up to together.”
She opened her mouth, her gaze shifting between him and Amelia as if to remind him that he had her now because Martin was gone, but she wisely chose not to speak.
“I want to leave immediately.”
Naturally. So long as the wild golem was at large, she’d be safer putting an ocean between her and it.
“As you wish,” he said before signaling to the others that it was time to depart.
He had a trap to bait.
Chapter 29
“This will never work,” Amelia said, lacing up her loosest corset on Gideon’s tiger.
“You’re supposing this creature has good eyesight,” Gideon pointed out. “We don’t know it does. And it only needs to be convincing for a few moments.”
He patted John on the arm. “Don’t worry. You’ll not be in any real danger.”
Young John nodded stoically, putting up a brave front that Amelia saw through. The poor boy was trembling.
They were at Lilywood Cottage, Gideon’s small property in Devon. It lay a few miles away from the ruins of the Abbey, where Gideon had laid his trap.
“Now, tell me again your role so I know you’ve understood.”
John’s arms hung awkwardly at his sides. He looked so ill at ease in her gown Amelia wanted to tell him she would be the lure in their scheme, but she knew better than to try. Gideon refused to allow her to take part, and she was tired of arguing with him.
The entire ordeal had been so draining that Amelia had spent most of the time since arriving in Dorset sleeping.
John recited his instructions as if they were a school lesson. “I keep my wig and cloak on at all times and don�
��t show too much of my face at any of the windows. The men outside will light torches all around. At your signal, they’re going to fall back and pretend they’ve seen it somewhere off the grounds. If it comes the men hidden in the house will run out with their long hammers, forcing the creature to one of the weak spots in the floor. I must stay on the other side of one of these so it will try to cross and fall through.”
Gideon nodded approvingly. “The fall is long enough that it will most definitely shatter when it hits the ground underneath.”
“And if it doesn’t come to the house for my facsimile?” Amelia asked with folded arms, frowning at the soreness of her breasts.
Was it her imagination or were they more ample than she remembered?
Gideon adjusted the wig and sent John out of the room with a little push. “Then we try again tomorrow night and every night hereafter until it comes.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “It will work. I’m certain of it.”
Amelia suspected he was not being entirely truthful but decided not to take issue with it. It wasn’t as if she had a better plan.
Rubbing her arms, she went to the window. It was safe, so long as she didn’t open the curtains. In life, Sir Clarence had not been aware of this property, or that it belonged to Gideon. They had arrived via an anonymous hired carriage, using her more distinctive conveyance as a decoy. Gideon would take that one up the main drive before guiding his faux-countess inside.
Mr. Clarke had disguised himself as a clergyman, one summoned to the Abbey on the pretext of blessing the grounds before they rebuilt the house. In the meantime, their superfluous male staff were making themselves visible on the house’s grounds.
Crispin, along with half a dozen of Gideon’s best men, would stay behind at the cottage to watch over her. That suited Crispin just fine. He wasn’t eager to set foot in the ruin again. “I’m about as graceful as a sow with this leg. I’ll end up falling through the floor myself.”
Gideon assured him such a thing wasn’t likely. The men who would face the creature were secured to the stairs and the beams undamaged by fire with strong rope. The rest would be tied to each other. If one fell, the strength of the others would keep them from plunging into the abyss.
The earl was sure he had thought of everything. Amelia hoped he was right.
In a few minutes, Crispin came up to inform Gideon that everything was in readiness. Then he went back down to check the state of his pistols again.
“He’s loaded and reloaded those guns at least three times now,” she said.
“It makes him feel better to be armed. And bullets do damage it, just not as easily as I would like.” Gideon took her in his arms. “Please don’t worry. We have everything ready.”
His big, warm hands moved to cover her stomach. Self-conscious because her middle had expanded a trifle the last few weeks—the richness of the food again—she tried to shift his hands.
“Rest,” he ordered. “Growing an entire person is exhausting.”
Amelia’s mouth dropped open as her mind wrapped itself around what he was saying. She couldn’t be increasing! She would have known.
As if on cue, a sudden wave of dizziness rose to overwhelm her. Gideon caught her up and set her on the wide double bed. “As I said, growing an entire person is exhausting for any woman, but bearing my heir is enough to tax even a goddess like you.”
Amelia slapped his hand. “How long have you known?”
His grin was smug. “Not long.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
He kissed her forehead and drew back. “You had enough on your mind.”
But he conveniently tells me now so I won’t worry. Amelia’s arms tightened around his neck, pulling him close for a fierce hug.
“Come back to me in one piece or suffer the consequences,” she said, fighting tears.
“You have my word,” he vowed, holding her tight.
Chapter 30
“It’s midnight,” Clarke whispered, squinting at his fob watch in the weak moonlight.
Gideon didn’t need the reminder. He’d been checking his own watch often enough in the last few hours. “I don’t think tonight is the night,” he muttered.
“Poor John is probably exhausted. I don’t think he stays up this late as a rule and traipsing around in that heavy winter gown is probably not helping.”
Gideon was sympathetic, but the wool gown was a necessity. If they had dressed his tiger in one of Amelia’s lighter gowns, the boy’s distinctive shape would have been more noticeable.
“Call him back and have him set himself up in the caretaker’s cottage. He’s to sleep in the wig.”
Clarke snorted but hurried off to pass his order along.
The air was frigid here at the ocean’s edge. Taking a quick look at the cliff line, Gideon wrapped his greatcoat around himself, making sure nothing of his white shirt was revealed.
Mrs. Spencer had told them that seeing through the golem’s eyes distorted the image from a distance, but it was clear enough to make out details and colors when up close.
So Sir Clarence would have seen Amelia clearly when she lay in bed next to him, nude. The brief surge of anger was sufficient to warm him, but he waited impatiently for Clarke to return before heading back. Once he did they slipped away along the cliff’s edge, sticking to the shadows whenever they could.
He knew something was wrong when they reached Lilywood cottage. The house and grounds were dark, with no lamp in either the coach house or outside the stable.
“Where are the men?” Clarke asked.
Gideon didn’t answer. He broke out into a run, rounding the corner. He faltered when he saw the open door and then began shouting. “Amelia!”
Clarke was right behind him when he barreled through the front door.
They found the first man just inside. He was groaning. Another was coming down the stairs, helping Crispin make his way down.
“Crispin!” Clarke rushed to the other man, taking him into his arms, making it down the final few steps with a little jump.
“It got her,” Lord Worthing cried, touching his head gingerly. It came away stained with blood. “The other men, the ones who could still walk, went after them. They’re trying to track it.”
Clarke held Crispin’s hand tightly. “We’ll find her, don’t worry.”
Lord Worthing’s eyes were shattered, but he didn’t respond as if he was afraid to share his fears in front of him.
Gideon held his hands to his stomach, pressing hard, physically holding himself together.
“If something of Sir Clarence is in there, it won’t kill her,” he said slowly, trying to make himself believe his own words.
It had to be true. If it was, then it would keep her alive…He crushed the next thought, refusing to think about what horrors might befall his wife.
Gideon had badly miscalculated. He didn’t know how the creature had seen through their ruse. All he knew was Amelia was in the hands of a monster, one made flesh by one man’s obsession with her.
Chapter 31
Amelia groaned and came to on a rough stone floor. Her skull throbbed. Slowly, she dragged herself into a seated position and opened her eyes.
Her head ached viciously. Tentatively, she touched an egg-sized bump on the left side of her head. A jumble of images swept through her, thrills of terror chilling her blood to ice in the cold room.
Oh, my God, Crispin. He could be dead! The last thing she remembered was his body crumpling to the floor. He’d been in front of her, trying to protect her. After that, she could recall only fragments, a sense of movement with a view of trees up above, and then the rocky shore.
She couldn’t see anything around her, but the roughly hewn floor didn’t feel like a cave. Was she in one of the old Roman basements?
Good God, was she under her old home?
The Abbey was built over the natural cave formations native to the area. Crispin had almost fallen into one when the floor had give
n way underneath him. But according to her father, the network of tunnels extended for miles along the coast.
She shuddered. Where was the golem? It was nowhere in sight—but then, she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.
Had it brought her down here to die?
Amelia’s hands flew to her waist. No. That wasn’t going to happen. She had to protect her child—Gideon’s child. She had lost too much already to give up now. She’d smash the golem to pieces with her own hands first.
Now she simply had to find it.
Gideon could feel the cold sweat running down the back of his neck, but he didn’t let his panic show. With hoarse instructions, he ordered the men who remained in a search.
“Where would it have taken her?” Clarke had calmed down enough to come to his side. It helped that Crispin had pleaded with him to help with the search.
Gideon spared a second to analyze that moment between the two men. It seemed so obvious now—their sudden close friendship. And he hadn’t seen it.
Clarke had always been discreet about his relationships, and now Gideon knew why. He had always assumed his friend had a lover or two tucked away somewhere over the years. Before this, he would have guessed those lovers had been female.
Where was my head? Why didn’t I see it?
“Later,” he said aloud, giving himself a little shake.
“What?” Clarke stopped to look at him.
“I’ll congratulate you later.”
“Oh.” His friend’s eyes were wide, and he might have flushed but it was hard to be sure in the lantern light. “Yes, we’ll talk later.”
Clarke’s uncertainty was baseless, but the need to reassure his friend was distant and hard to reach.
Amelia. Gideon could feel himself growing colder as hope ebbed away.
The sudden punch in the shoulder snapped him to full consciousness. He stared at Clarke, who scowled at him. “You’re losing faith. Don’t.”
“But what if—”
Clarke held up a hand “I said don’t! For God’s sake, this is Amelia we are talking about—she brought you to your knees. A single monster doesn’t stand a chance.”
