by Sharon Page
Hell, her brother’s reaction had obviously devastated her. She was fighting, but it was the pain of hurt pride, of despair.
Wrentshire drew out a pistol and Lucy gasped. “You are coming with me. Now.”
The gun wasn’t pointed at her, but Sinjin didn’t know how far her brother was willing to go. He had to go after her. It was time to bring an end to this irritating battle. He moved at preternatural speed, slamming his fists into the gut of his attacker. Silver flashed in the corner of his vision, and he felt the knife drive into his shoulder. Over and over, the blade flailed into him, but he ignored the pain, picked up the man, and threw him. Wrenshire’s lackey slammed into one of the marble columns that surrounded the foyer and collapsed unconscious on the floor.
Sinjin strode toward Lucy and her brother when a masculine cackle reached his ears. “Not so fast, Yer Grace.”
Then he heard a muffled cry. He jerked around. Another thug held James, with his hand clamped over the boy’s mouth and a knife held near the small neck. Lucy gave a muted cry. Sinjin let his fists drop to his sides. “Don’t hurt him,” he said to Wrenshire. “Stake me if you want, but don’t hurt the child.”
Tears dribbled onto James’s cheeks. Rage snapped and roared inside Sinjin. He wanted to kill, but he couldn’t take the risk of getting James hurt. He would cause pain to these men later.
“How could you hurt him, Jack?” Lucy yelled. “Stop this!”
“Go outside, Lucy.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Sinjin saw the earl’s gaze focus on him, then on James. Wrenshire was not looking at Lucy, but she was glaring at her brother with murderous fury in her eyes. Before Sinjin could even move, she lunged at her brother. She grabbed the muzzle of the pistol and wrenched it out of his hand.
Lucy held the pistol, both hands wrapped around the handle to support it. But her shoulders jerked with the effort of keeping the heavy weapon pointed straight, and she was shaking, with her index finger close to the trigger. First she pointed it at Sinjin, then she moved and held the pistol with the muzzle pointed at her brother.
“Put it down, Lucy,” her brother barked. “For God’s sake, what are you doing? You could shoot me by mistake. And if you shoot me, Perkins up there will likely kill the boy.”
“I don’t know who to trust anymore,” she whispered. She swung the pistol and pointed it back at him.
Sinjin nodded. “Keep pointing it at me, love. That way they won’t hurt James. In fact, you may have to shoot me.”
“Don’t, Lucy,” Wrenshire growled. “A pistol ball won’t kill him. It will not kill a vampire. Unless you want the boy to be hurt, you will give the pistol back to me.”
“Why did you take it out, Jack? Did you plan to use it on me?”
“For Christ’s sake, Lucy, of course not.”
Her eyes were wide with pain and Sinjin flinched as they focused on him and he saw the raw agony on her face. Her lips were parted, her forehead lined with anguish. “Is it true, Sinjin? Are you a dragon slayer? Were you planning all along to hurt my family?”
“It is my duty to slay, love. But in the end, I knew I could never hurt you, and because I care about you, I was not going to hurt your family.”
“Charming.” Wrenshire sneered at him, his lip curled in the sort of snarl a man gave before he kicked a dying enemy. “That is a blasted lie, I suspect. He is playing a game with you, Lucy. He is telling you lies so you will turn against me, your own brother.”
“Tell your thug upstairs to let James go,” she said coldly. “The evidence I have with my own eyes is that the duke loves his family, loves them enough to take any risk for them. You, however, are willing to terrify a young boy.”
“Perkins, let the child go. My sister is right. This is inhuman. We are better than this.” Wrenshire glowered at Perkins, then glared at Sinjin. “He is a dragon slayer, Lucy. Dragons destroy slayers every time they have the chance. I cannot leave him alive.”
“You will. We will let him go, and let him take James.”
“No. No, that I cannot do. The boy is a dragon. Father explained that he is in danger from the slayers. The duke will tell you that, if he decides to be honest for once.” The earl’s lips cocked up in a smirk.
Damn, the bloody twit had him there.
“Is this true? Is James in danger from other slayers? From you?”
“God, not from me.” His mind flicked over his options. He couldn’t get James away from a man with a knife. What he needed to do was buy time. “Yes, what your brother says is true. James could be in danger from the slayer who commands me. But I intend to protect James—”
“And that is why we have him?” Wrenshire goaded. “Because you were taking such good care of him?”
“Stop, Jack. Stop!”
“Go with your brother, Lucy. Take James with you and keep him safe. I trust him with you. I know you can help ease his fears and comfort him. I will leave you alone.”
“Oh yes, you will.” Wrenshire’s eyes narrowed.
Sinjin sensed motion—he had been focused on Lucy and James and had not heard the sound of another man’s breathing until now.
Swinging around on his heel, he turned right into the crossbow bolt as it shot across the foyer. The other lackey of the earl’s had reloaded his weapon.
Sinjin grasped at the shaft of the arrow—it had missed his heart, but the pain was excruciating. He knew the best thing to do. Buy time. He let out a groan and collapsed.
He heard a little boy’s howl of fear and anguish.
Damn them for doing this in front of James. The poor boy had been through so much, and now he had been terrified by a thug and had seen his uncle—the last of his family—shot.
Hell, Sinjin thought, he cared for Lucy, but he was going to make her brother pay.
“Wrap your arms around my neck, James,” Lucy whispered in the boy’s ear. “Hold me tight. I’ll carry you.”
Trying to stay calm for James was the only thing keeping her from falling to pieces. She wanted to shake her brother. She wanted to hit him, then scream at him until her voice went hoarse.
She knew Jack was careless, knew he had all the worst traits of wealthy gentlemen: he could be arrogant, he was selfish, and he always fell in with the worst of men. But he had transformed into a monster. Into someone she was ashamed of.
At this moment, she hated him. How could he have allowed Sinjin to be shot? How could he have let such a thing happen in front of a child?
Poor James was sobbing, but quietly, as though he feared punishment if his tears were heard.
“It is all right to cry,” Lucy murmured, cuddling him tighter. She was astonished he had not sunk back into his vacant, unresponsive state. She stroked his soft hair, growing damp where pellets of ice melted on his head. Her brother had not allowed her to dress James. The boy wore only his nightshirt, which was also wet, clinging to his slender frame. His feet were bare. She was wearing only her nightdress, her robe, and slippers. Cold seeped into her feet, and the wind-whipped hail pelted against her face. Her clothes were swiftly becoming wet. She kept James’s head tucked against her neck to protect him.
Jack held her by her shoulder, propelling her to the carriage.
“I am sorry, Lucy,” he said.
“No. I do not believe you are, anymore. I don’t know what you have become.” To think she had hated changing into dragon form because she hated to think she was not human. Her brother had become more of a beast than she could have dreamed.
“I cannot explain things in front of the boy, but when we are back in London, I will tell you everything. I will tell you what the Duke of Greystone has done to our people.”
“He spared me. Perhaps he has changed—perhaps he changed for the better as much as you have changed for the worse.”
At the pained look in her brother’s indigo eyes, Lucy felt a twinge of guilt. But why should she? He had killed Sinjin. Why should she feel anything for Jack now? She could remember so much good—playing with Jack in t
he maze in their Hampshire home, chasing each other up and down between the thick, tall hedges. She remembered Jack teaching her to fish. He had taught her to swim in the cold lake; he had taught her to dive to the bottom and she used to pirouette in the silt-clouded water, with sunbeams streaking through the depths, making believe that she was a mermaid, not a dragon.
Jack had saved her life when Mr. Ferrars had attacked her. It was not a good memory, but she had remembered that night with deep gratitude for her brother.
But Jack had washed away all the joy in her sweet memories and the thankfulness she had felt for how he had protected her from Ferrars.
And what about James? Did he have many good memories to fight against the grim power of the bad ones? He had lost both his parents. Now he had seen his uncle killed in front of him. How did he recover from this? But she must make certain he eventually did.
She was going to protect James. He was her responsibility now.
Her brother pushed her toward the black carriage that sat in the drive. It would have been invisible in the hail-strewn dark if not for the lamps burning on it. Fingers of gold feebly traced the glossy black doors, the box, and the large wheels. The horses whinnied in anguish, for they must be cold and miserable in the rain. It looked like the devil’s carriage. The men lurking around it, in black cloaks with the collars turned up, looked like demons.
“Come on, Lucy.” Jack’s voice had changed—she noticed the difference now. He used to speak like most bucks of the ton, with the exaggerated drawl and with a great deal of charm when he wished. Now his voice was hoarse and raw, as though he had been breathing in the fumes of Hell’s brimstone.
“Lucy, get inside the carriage. There is no point standing out here in the hail.”
She wanted to go back to Sinjin. He had not been dead when he fell. He had probably died—a stake killed a vampire. But what if he was still alive, what if there was a faint hope he was? What if he was still alive and needed help?
The family’s servants were there. The instant Sinjin had collapsed, Jack had hauled her outside, and his wretched lackey had brought James. Jack had not even bothered to speak to the stunned servants. He had just stalked out of the door.
Why? Why was he rushing her away?
One of Jack’s men pulled open the carriage door. Her brother held the pistol—he had taken it back from her when she had been standing in shock, watching Sinjin fall. Would Jack shoot her if she turned now and ran back for the house?
He might. That was the horrible belief she had. That her brother might shoot at her and that he might miss and hit James. Risking her life was one thing. She could not risk James’s life. She knew that was why Sinjin had been shot—because once her wretched brother had commanded his lackey to take James, Sinjin would not put his nephew in danger. He would have stood there and have taken a crossbow bolt directly in the heart, she was sure, before he would put James at risk.
Anger surged, but Lucy had no choice—she trudged to the lowered carriage steps. A stink rose from the man holding the door. The stench of sweat, smoke, spilled ale, and rotting teeth. He was not one of their servants; he was some thug her brother had employed.
As she put her foot on the step, she turned to Jack. It hurt to see his familiar face and know she could never look at him with love in her heart again. “What did you tell these men to do? Kill me if I try to escape? Are they instructed to shoot me?”
“Lucy—”
Good heavens, they were. Why else would he look so pained? And put on that irritating drawl, the way he did when he wanted to hide something?
She had to take one hand from James’s back so she could retain her balance on the steps. As soon as the weight of her palm left him, he let out a plaintive bleat, like a tiny lost lamb.
Her heart twisted in her chest as she grasped the door handle. Jack’s brute reached out to offer his hand, but she tipped up her chin. She would not even look at such a man who was willing to do such horrible things for money.
James was heavy in her arms, but she stumbled up the steps and managed to carry him into the carriage. She plopped down on one of the seats, cradling James on her lap so his tiny, cold feet were snuggled against her robe, and she hugged him tight to warm him. Immediately she thought of escape.
Could she leap out of the carriage on the road, holding James? There was too much risk she would hurt him. Even if she managed to get out without injuring the boy, they would likely be recaptured in minutes.
Or was there a chance they could get away? It was eerily black on the moors and if she ran off the road, into the grass, she could disappear.
Or she and James might literally disappear if she ran off into the bog.
Her brother had said they were headed for London. They could not travel all the way to town without stops at coaching inns to change the horses. James would need to be fed; he would need trips to relieve his bladder. At any one of those times, she could try to engineer an escape.
The carriage rocked as Jack hoisted his tall, muscular frame up the steps and into the doorway.
Revulsion washed over her. James shuddered in her arms, and she made a soothing, humming sound. She whispered very, very slowly beside his ear, “Sweetheart, I understand your instinctive reaction. You sense he is bad. He didn’t used to be, but he is now. But I will take care of you. No harm will come to you.”
James whimpered and pressed hard to her. The odious villain Perkins had stepped up to the threshold, obviously expecting to ride within. Jack cocked his eyebrow and the man blustered, “I thought you would be wanting me to watch ’em as we travel, guv.”
Her brother frowned. His gaze met hers for a moment, then slid away. “Indeed. It would be a good plan.”
Her mouth dropped open in outrage. Her brother had brought one of his toughs into the carriage, so he could simply give the order to hurt her or James, if they disobeyed.
There had to be an escape... .
Then what? Where would she go? She could not simply run away and leave her sisters in Jack’s power. His mind had turned, he had gone mad, and if she deserted Helena and Beatrix, who knew what he would do to them.
Nausea clawed up Lucy’s throat as her brother shouted over the howl of the wind to the coachman. In seconds, he whipped the horses, hooves began to paw at the ground, and the carriage lurched ahead on the gravel.
Somehow she had to escape with James. But she needed to return home before her brother could, so she could take Helena and Beatrix away with her.
Yes, and somehow do it without any money. She had no money to engineer an escape for her, James, and her sisters.
She knew of no place where they could safely hide.
The carriage rattled along the worn track. It was not much of a road, since it was barely used, but they were going faster, as though the coachman was lashing the horses, forcing them to gallop. That would be dangerous even on a good road. Lucy had no idea how the coachman could see. Even a dragon’s senses would not be enough to steer a carriage on a rough, rock-strewn path in the pitch dark.
One of the wheels slid and the carriage lurched ominously to the side. Condemnation of Jack’s idiocy danced on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to rail at him. Demand to know why he had dragged them away so quickly, and where they had to race to, at the risk of accident.
She wanted to ask, then the coachman shouted loudly and the carriage swayed violently.
“Damn.” Her brother got to his feet. He changed position, so he could see ahead, and pushed down the window glass. “What is it?” he shouted.
They were going faster. The horses must be thundering at full speed, and the animals pulled at the traces in a lopsided way, which caused the wheels to hit rocks and bounce harshly.
Perkins grinned, revealing a lack of front teeth. He pulled a pistol from an inside pocket of his coat. “Could be that vampire weren’t dead,” he said cheerfully. “Get Coachman to stop us. I’ll hunt the beast down and put a ball in its heart.”
“That wil
l do nothing,” Jack snapped.
Lucy could hear the fear in her brother’s voice. She launched up on her feet and slapped her hand against the ceiling. She surged forward to the seat that backed along the driver’s box, got up on her knees despite the wild swings of the vehicle. Clutching glass, she pushed it back. “Stop!” she screamed.
The coachman half-turned. His beefy face was white, his colorless eyes large with terror. “I cannot. It’s as if the beasts are bewitched.”
Suddenly the door swung open—she saw it in the corner of her eye. It flew wide, then thrashed wildly against the side of the carriage. Again and again, it battered against the side, then the wind yanked it, and the hinges tore free. Wood splintered as the door was slammed against the rocky ground.
Lucy sat, grasped James, and pulled him tightly against her body. She slid into the corner away from the door, holding him tight.
She could change and fly free through the open door. There was risk—she would be too large for the carriage if she changed. Could she also ensure she could keep hold of James as she did?
Perkins pulled out a pistol and pointed it at her. “Stay put,” he growled.
“Put that bloody thing away,” Jack shouted. “You’ll end up shooting me! Or her by accident.” Jack reached for the pistol, then the carriage flew violently to the right.
Lucy pushed James into the corner, shielding him with her body.
The pistol went off with a roar. Smoke filled the carriage and the sound was deafening. Splinters of the floorboards flew up.
Stupid Perkins had fired, but had only hit the floor.
The carriage suddenly slid to the left. She slid along the seat. Perkins and her brother flew to the side and crashed into the wall. The impact sent the carriage tipping up onto the two left wheels. It lurched over and fell.
End over end it went. Lucy clutched James to her. Her head hit the wall, her bottom struck the floor, and her shoulder hit something hard. She was battered, turning in agonizing spirals.
Then it stopped and she slammed hard against the wall of the carriage.
