by Kari Edgren
Air whooshed into Nora’s lungs in a string of rapid gulps. “That wasn’t nice, Deri,” she scolded in between panting breaths.
Deri assumed a repentant expression. “Beg yehr pardon. But Goody has to die if anyone tries to stop us.”
“I know,” Nora said, kindly. She glanced at me, and a shadow of pain crossed her face. “Selah...I...” Her body jerked violently.
“Nora!”
Our eyes met once more, and the hatred nearly stopped my breath. “Goodbye, Selah. Please tell my mother that I shan’t be home tonight.”
“Bye bye, Biddie girl,” Deri sing-songed in her childish voice. “Fly, fly away, or little Deri will make her pay.” She skipped from the dressing room with Nora walking in hurried steps beside her.
Stunned, I watched them vanish down the corridor to the alley. Pain swelled in my chest, pushed my heart to the top of my throat. “Oh, Nora,” I cried softly.
Jane groaned on the floor. Rolling onto her side, she pushed her back against the wall. “What happened,” she asked, bleary eyed.
I knelt beside her, my grief too great for even the slightest relief. “You fainted, is all.”
Footsteps pounded down the hallway. I looked up as Henry burst into the room. “Where is the little she devil?” His coat was ripped and a large bruise reddened his cheek, but otherwise he appeared unharmed.
James and Justine came in next, with Andrew supported between them. His head bobbed unsteadily, and his left eye had already swollen shut. He sank down against the wall next to Jane.
Henry paced the length of the room, peering into every shadow. “She isn’t here.”
A slew of thoughts ran into one. “Nora...I...I think she’s the key.”
James whirled around to face me. “What are you talking about? Where is she?”
“Deri took her out through the alleyway. We have to follow them.” I started toward the door when Justine stopped me.
“Selah, you’ve got to come with me. There are wounded and dying everywhere. The damage,” her voice broke and she seemed on the verge of tears. “It’s much worse than I ever imagined. Cate and Tom are doing what they can, but there’s too many.”
I looked back and forth between Justine and James. My goddess blood belonged to those in the main hall. But my heart’s blood belonged to Nora.
Henry took my hand. “James and I will follow Deri. The girl will come to justice before the night’s through.” The heat of vengeance burned in his eyes.
I shook my head wildly. “Deri will kill Nora if she knows your intentions. Get her away from the wretch before you do anything else.”
Henry pressed a kiss into my palm. “Take care, Selah. This will soon be over.”
Dread curled in the pit of my stomach. “Be careful,” I whispered as they disappeared from sight.
Chapter Nineteen
An Unlikely Alliance
A single map covered the narrow wooden table in Cate’s library. In the upper left corner, ornate scrollwork encased the title: Magnae Britanniae et Hilberniae Tabular—A Map of Great Britian and Ireland. Starting at London, I traced a horizontal line to the port town of Bristol on the western coast. The line continued along the water, from Bristol Channel to St. George’s, with a sharp arc through the Irish Sea. My finger stopped atop the town of Wexford on the eastern shores of my ancestral homeland.
A hollowed black circle marked the town’s location. Dublin lay a fair distance to the north. Waterford to the west. Scrawled place names and neatly etched crosses filled every space in between, depicting a land that had long forgotten the magical rule of the Tuatha Dé. But if the legend held true as Cate and Tom feared, an ancient oak grove stood somewhere near Wexford, with a witch trapped beneath for the past three thousand years.
I tapped the thick parchment, once, twice as my eye settled on a bit of dried blood in the corner of my fingernail. The carnage caused by young Deri tonight surpassed anything I had ever witnessed before. The scene in the pit and immediate vicinity looked the aftermath of a vicious battle, which I guessed wasn’t too far from the truth. My great grandparents and I had been covered in blood by the time we finished tending the wounded and returned home. While Cate and I went upstairs to our chambers to change, Tom passed through the back gardens to the abandoned well and into the walls. We planned to meet later when word arrived from Henry and James as to Deri’s whereabouts. Nora, I was certain, would return with the men. My preoccupation in the library stemmed not from doubt of their success, but the inevitable hunt that could very well lead to Wexford.
The seconds ticked into minutes on the mantel clock. What is taking so long? Surely, Nora must be safe by now. Unless...I refused to even entertain the thought. Glancing at the parchment, I retraced the route once more.
James found me hunched over the detailed map. I straightened when he entered and stared expectantly at the doorway for the rest of the party. When no one came, I looked to him, near sick with worry.
“Where is Nora?” I asked. “Did she go to her chamber first?”
A fire burned in the hearth. Still several hours before dawn, half a dozen candles dotted the room against the darkness. The warm glow illuminated James’s expression, showing a deep despair that answered in place of words.
My legs wobbled and I stumbled back to the sofa. “It can’t be,” I said numbly.
James rubbed a hand across his forehead. “We tracked them on foot to a stable near Charing Cross where the girl had already arranged for two horses. Once we raised the stable master and secured mounts of our own, they were long gone. We rode for a while, but then decided it best to return home to make better preparations.”
Oh, Nora. My heart pulled in on itself, a snail retreating to its shell. “And Henry? Is he still at home?”
James released a long breath and strode over to the hearth. “The moment we arrived, the duke summoned us to his study. He heard about the riot at the theater in connection to Nora’s name, and wanted to know of our involvement. We tried to explain about the girl Deri, but the duke went into a rage and forbade us to have any further involvement.”
The memory of their last fight rushed forward. “How did Henry respond to his father’s demands?”
“They argued at first, but then Lord Fitzalan seemed to submit to the duke’s will. I knew it was only a pretense to appease his father, for we had already agreed to set out again at first light. What I didn’t guess was that he meant to leave me as well.” James paused for a moment. “I should have had some suspicion when Henry claimed no knowledge of their destination, but my mind was too preoccupied with worry. He stayed just long enough to fill a saddlebag and to fetch his sword. By the time I discovered the departure, it was too late for a direct pursuit.”
I choked on a mouthful of air. “So he’s gone?”
James nodded, his eyes focused on my face. Tossing his great coat over the back of the nearest armchair, he sat and continued to study me in silence. “Deri isn’t just a beggar girl is she?”
Part of me wanted to deny it. But I couldn’t. Not after everything that James had been through tonight. He needed the truth, or at least as much as I could give him. “She’s a lunatic with an inordinate ability to influence other people.”
The fire crackled in the hearth. I threaded my fingers to a knot, and began to formulate a plan. I shall need transportation to Bristol. Then passage to Ireland. If the wretch has taken a different route, I shall find them in Wexford...
“Tell me this,” James said, interrupting my thoughts. “Is she somehow related to that hound in Hopewell?”
Again, my first instinct was to lie. “They are directly related,” I said instead.
“So I feared.” He leaned forward and buried his head in his hands. Candlelight glinted from specks of rain that clung to his blond hair. “Judging by Lord Fitzalan’s hasty departur
e, I must assume he knows where they’re going, and that he didn’t want me to tag along.”
He sounded so miserable, I actually felt a sharp tug of sympathy for him. “It’s not like that, Mr. Roth. This girl is much more dangerous than you can ever imagine. She’s responsible for the riot tonight and for killing two more of Henry’s footmen. I imagine he left in secret with the intent of keeping us both out of harm’s way.” All well and good, except that I had no intention to oblige such reasoning.
James lifted his head. “Miss Kilbrid, why do I have the feeling that there is a secret in this room the size of a draft horse? The evening’s events surpassed my understanding, yet Henry was unfazed by the notion that a beggar child could instigate a murderous riot and then force Nora to flee against her will.”
A draft horse, or ten, just about covered it. Even so, my tongue remained still for lack of words. A carriage clattered on the lane outside the window. I glanced toward the noise to break away from James’s expectant stare.
“For the love of God,” James said, exasperated by my silence. “Is there anything you can tell me to shed light on what occurred tonight?”
Several tense seconds passed while I debated how best to proceed without divulging my identity in the process. “I can explain some of what happened, but it won’t be easy to believe.”
His gaze remained steady. “Tell me what you can, Miss Kilbrid.”
As in most cases, a half-truth best served my purposes. “Deri is a witch of sorts who has learned to cause madness with a single touch. Before coming into the theater, she affected a score of men and women on the street. All told, the girl was responsible for eight deaths and two score seriously wounded.” Without Cate and me, the death toll would have surpassed two dozen.
While I spoke, his hands moved to grip his knees. “Why did she take Nora?”
This question proved trickier. “Deri suffers from the delusion that Nora has a greater purpose to serve in Ireland. One that may involve unlocking an ancient prison.”
“So that is where they are off to.”
Unknotting my fingers, I pressed them flat against my lap. “Wexford, to be exact.”
Silence settled around us. I knew my next move, but had yet to learn his.
James leaned back in the chair. “Miss Kilbrid, the two people I love most in this world are in danger. And I’ve no doubt you can make a similar claim.”
A sob rose up in my throat. I pressed my lips tight and nodded abruptly.
“Despite our many differences,” he said, “perhaps we can work together for their benefit. The duke will have a similar agenda, and once he knows where Henry and Nora have gone, I’m sure he will do everything possible to secure their safety.”
A door shut toward the front of the house. James ignored it and continued to watch me. I focused on the backs of my hands, at the dried blood on the edge of my fingernail. To be sure, a man once called the dragon could be an ideal ally, not to mention his vast resources and influence. And as he already knew about the goddess born, I could easily explain the hazards of hunting Deri. So why did the notion of working alongside him settle like week old mutton in my stomach?
“I don’t know, Mr. Roth. The two of us may strike a truce, but the duke is a man guided solely by his own agenda. I just don’t think—”
Footsteps approached the library, accompanied by what sounded like the methodic thump of a cane. The door flew open, and the duke came in followed by Sophie. “If you would just wait a moment, Your Grace,” she said in frustrated politeness. “Lady Dinley can meet you in the drawing room.”
The duke pointed the tip of his cane at me. “I am here to see this one.”
James jumped to his feet, and I quickly followed suit. The rumple of paper caught my attention, and I glimpsed a letter clenched tightly in the duke’s other hand.
Sophie curtsied. “As you will, Your Grace. I shall let her ladyship know.” She dashed from the room.
He glared at James. “Did you agree to play nursemaid to Miss Kilbrid again? Or did my son strong-arm you into the role?”
Nursemaid, indeed! I pressed my lips together hard to keep from saying something I would soon regret.
James shook his head. “No, Your Grace. I came here to ask Miss Kilbrid of Lord Fitzalan’s possible route.”
“Have you learned anything?” The duke didn’t wait a reply before turning to me. “Where is my son?”
Once again, I was struck by the sensation that the man could turn me inside out with only his eyes. More footsteps came from the hallway, hurried as though people were running.
James cleared his throat. “Your Grace, we have a good understanding that he has gone to We—”
“What an unexpected surprise,” Cate said in a clear voice that preceded her physical form by a split second. Coming into the library, she ignored James and me, and went straight to the duke. “I would have met you in the drawing room, Your Grace, but I was waylaid by Lucy Goodwin. It seems the poor lady overheard two of the servants discussing her daughter. From what I can gather, Nora performed on stage tonight at Drury Lane and then ran off with a beggar child. Lucy is beside herself with grief.”
Tom came in a few steps behind Cate. He didn’t say a word, but went to the perimeter of the room to lean against the wall, his arms crossed casually over his chest.
The duke eyed the blacksmith, taking in the whole of the man. A small frown settled on his mouth when he returned his attention to Cate. “That is precisely why I am here, my lady. Lord Fitzalan has gone in pursuit of Nora and this beggar child who is said to have used dark magic against my footmen. I sought out Miss Kilbrid to learn their destination.”
James cleared his throat. “Your Grace, I know where they’re going, and will follow after Lord Fitzalan forthwith. If you could supply some men, I am certain we can get Nora to safety and bring the girl to justice. Time though, is of the ess—”
The duke sliced a perturbed hand through the air. “The Quaker girl is not my concern.”
“But Your Grace—” James started.
I jumped from the sharp crack of the duke’s cane against the wood floor. “Lord Fitzalan is my only child and heir. I almost lost him once this past spring, and will not put him at risk again. If Nora has decided to run away with the devil, it is her people’s responsibility to see to her safety. Not mine and not Henry’s.”
James exhaled sharply. “Other than her mother and Miss Kilbrid, all of Nora’s people are in the Colonies at present. To wait could mean her death. Unless your grace proposes that two ladies go off unattended in search for her.”
The duke scowled at me. “I would hope that Miss Kilbrid has more sense. She is most valuable to my son, and should stay in London to await his return.”
I crossed my arms in a huff. “I will do no such thing. Nora is my dearest friend. To abandon her could be paramount to murder.”
“That is your choice Miss Kilbrid, but be certain, my son will have no part of it. Now tell me, where has he gone?”
Tom shifted his weight against the wall. “Beg your pardon,” he said, in a voice that defied the very concept of begging. “I’ve heard of late that the Fitzalans have some claim to Irish blood. From a grandmother if my memory serves right.”
The duke glared at me before turning a sharp eye on Tom. “What of it?”
Tom shrugged. “Nothing of it, your grace. I was just curious as to her surname.”
The ticking of the mantel clock punctuated the tense seconds. “Her name was Lundlam,” the duke said dismissively.
“That’s an English name.” Authority and challenge laced Tom’s words. “What was the family called before they left Ireland?”
The duke stood stone still with an expression as empty as the silence. “Her name was O’Lughnane,” he said after a long moment.
Cate’s gaze
did not leave the duke’s face, though her eyes widened ever so slightly. “How very interesting,” she said. “Please forgive me, your grace, but perhaps we can continue this discussion in the morning. I must return to Lucy, and desire Miss Kilbrid to accompany me. With her daughter gone, I believe a face from home will provide the greatest comfort.”
“Of course, my lady,” the duke said, pulling his gaze from the blacksmith. “Just as soon as I know where my son has gone. Miss Kilbrid, the location if you please.”
My shoulders tightened stubbornly. The duke stared at me. I stared back, prepared for a full-scale contest if need be.
“Your Grace,” James said calmly. “Miss Kilbrid told me their destination.”
I shot James a look of warning. Don’t you dare tell him! As much as I wanted Henry home, at present he was all that stood between Nora and the wretch.
“Yes, James,” the duke prodded.
“To France, Your Grace. Nora and the beggar girl are riding toward Dover to secure passage across the channel.”
My mouth popped open in surprise. I snapped it shut just as quickly.
“Thank you, James,” the duke said. “And the location of the oak grove?”
A confused pause followed. How do you know about that?
“I don’t understand, Your Grace,” James said cautiously. “Lord Fitzalan said nothing of a grove.”
The duke gripped his cane until his knuckles turned white from fury. The letter crinkled in his other hand. “Perhaps a night at the Tower will help your memory—”
I blurted out the first place that came to mind. “It’s near Paris. On the bank of the Seine.”
The duke breathed a relieved sigh. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it, Miss Kilbrid?”
“Not at all,” I said truthfully.
A thin smile did little to soften his expression. “James, a party of men will leave at first light if you wish to accompany us. With luck we can cut Henry off before there is time to sail. Otherwise, we shall be for Paris.” He raked me with a look of stern disapproval. “Try to stay out of trouble while we’re gone, Miss Kilbrid. From what I’ve heard that beggar child has the devil about her, and should be avoided at all cost.”
