by C. J. Archer
He tucked loose strands of hair behind my ear then stroked my cheek. It was too dark to make out his expression or eyes, but I had a feeling it had softened now that we were safe.
"Why didn't she produce the revolver before?" Myer asked. He was still leaning against the wall, his lanky frame rocking in time with his deep breaths.
"Because she knows de Mordaunt and I are already dead," Quin said. "She wasn't aiming at us."
"No," Myer said, voice shaking. "She was aiming at me."
"Agreed. She did not produce the weapon until she saw you." Quin's curt tone wasn't accusing, only direct. "Stay away from him, Cara. I don't want you caught in the crossfire."
I nodded and folded my arms, rubbing them even though it wasn't cold.
Perhaps he hadn't seen my nod in the darkness because he added, "I can't do this if I know you're in danger. Do you understand me? Get away from here. From him."
I hated being chastised like a child but I knew that my vulnerability worried him. I wanted to tell him that I'd only come out of the lane to warn the boy, but I didn't think he'd care at that moment.
"I will," I assured him.
"Here." He flipped my hand over and placed a knife on my palm. I knew he had several more about his person.
"You keep it." I reached up my sleeve and withdrew the knife I'd tucked there. "I have my own."
His only response was a grunt, and I couldn't tell if it meant he was impressed, surprised, or still worried.
"Next time, I'll bring Jacob's revolver."
"There will be no next time."
A set of footsteps pounded down the pavement toward us. Myer yelped and moved behind Quin, but Quin shifted away so that he was in front of me.
"I do not like those weapons," came de Mordaunt's voice a moment before he rounded the bend.
Both Myer and I stepped out from behind Quin. "It's a revolver," I explained. "A gun. Sylvia fired one at you when you emerged from the portal."
"I know that. Stupid girl," he added in a mutter.
Quin slammed his fist into de Mordaunt's jaw, sending him careening into the wall of the building. De Mordaunt's head snapped back, smacking into the bricks with a sickening crack. Before he'd had a chance to recover, Quin dug his fingers into de Mordaunt's shirt at his chest. He stood nose to nose with him, the blade of his knife pressed against de Mordaunt's throat.
"Enough!" I tried to pull Quin away but he wouldn't budge. "She might be coming this way."
Quin backed off but did not sheath his knife. He watched de Mordaunt, his body taut, as if ready to pound the other man into the wall again. I wasn't sure if it was de Mordaunt's comment that he'd found offensive or merely his presence, but either way, Quin wasn't a man to be trifled with at that moment.
Behind me, Myer gulped.
"She left," de Mordaunt said, rubbing the back of his head. I assumed he could feel pain, like Quin, but was difficult to kill. He drew his hands away and studied the fingers. He tapped them together as if something sticky coated them. Blood? Perhaps he was surprised that he had any.
"How do you know she left?" I asked, risking another "stupid girl" accusation.
"I checked," was all he said, no hint of condescension in his tone. "The house is quiet. Everyone's gone. The back door was ajar."
"Blast!" Myer slapped his palm against the wall. When nobody moved, he added, "Well? What are you waiting for? Go and find her!"
"She could be anywhere," I said. "And she's armed. We don't want innocent bystanders getting shot."
"Can it do much damage?" de Mordaunt asked. "The gun?"
"It can kill you."
"Think of it as a small cannon," Myer told him, somewhat calmer but with a note of belligerence in his voice.
At de Mordaunt's silence, I added, "There were no cannons in the twelfth century either."
Myer sniffed. "Primitive."
Quin's hand gripped mine in the darkness. He stepped away, taking me with him. I didn't argue and didn't ask where we were going. I assumed he wanted me home, safe. I wasn't about to disagree with that. I wanted to be safe too. I only wished he would stay there with me.
"Wait!" Myer squeaked. "Where are you going?"
Quin didn't answer. "Home," I said. "I'll be there if you need me."
"But she'll come for me! She wants to kill me, now that she knows I informed the administrators and her realm's authorities."
"That is not our affair," Quin growled without slowing.
"How can you say that?" Myer's voice was high, afraid. "De Mordaunt, make him stay! We need his help."
De Mordaunt snorted. "I do not."
"You will have to help him though, won't you?" I asked Quin. "Or keep an eye on him, at least, to ensure he does his duty and only that?"
"Aye. But that isn't your concern."
"It most certainly is. Anything to do with you is my concern."
The hand that held mine squeezed. Then he let me go. I sighed.
"You'll be on the first train back to Frakingham in the morning," he told me as we walked quickly along the street toward a more major road. We wouldn't find a hansom cab after dark and the walk would be long. Part of me didn't mind—Quin was with me. Actually, it was a very large part of me that didn't mind. I hated thinking about being separated from him again. This walk might be the last time we saw one another.
I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat and suppress the tears stinging my eyes. I hated the hopelessness of his situation, and the overwhelming sense of loss that I already felt despite having him walk beside me.
I kept as close to him as my skirts would allow. He didn't seem to notice. His gaze scanned the street up, down, left and right. Every footstep, every scurrying rat, had him turning in that direction, his body tense and ready to spring. He still gripped his knife. I had to remember to give him the revolver when we got home.
We didn't speak again for some time. The evening air caressed my face and the exercise soothed my frayed nerves. It was nice simply to be near him, even though I suspected he was still in a temper, although perhaps not with me.
I knew the way back home. Living on the London streets as a child had given me an excellent sense of direction in the city, and I'd traveled most of the streets at one point or another. Nobody bothered us as we left behind working class Camden Town and skirted the eastern edge of Regent's Park. It wasn't yet late but most people were inside their homes. Only a few carriages drove past, and some pedestrians hurried back and forth, alert eyes watching their surroundings. Whether they were up to no good or simply worried about having their watches stolen, it was hard to tell. They all gave us a wide berth, perhaps sensing Quin was in no mood to be robbed of his possessions.
We made it all the way to Mayfair before I broke the smothering silence. If we were going to spend our last moments together in simmering anger… Well, I wouldn't.
"I hadn't expected her to use those spirits to possess," I said, starting with a topic that I knew he would respond to.
"No."
"But we should have expected her to use weapons."
"Aye."
I supposed his one word answers were better than nothing.
I slipped my hand into his, preparing to tighten my grip if he tried to pull away. He didn't.
His thumb caressed mine and he sighed. "You win, Cara."
"Pardon?"
"I cannot stay mad at you."
"Good. However, I wish to note that you have no reason to be mad at me. There was a child who needed to be warned—or hypnotized—to get out of the way."
"You could have let Myer to do that and stayed back in the lane, out of danger."
"Children are frightened of him."
"Then the boy would have retreated as soon as Myer faced him. Task accomplished." He spoke as if it were some military operation.
"Hmm."
"Hmm? Are you agreeing with me?"
I gave him another "Hmm." At least he was sounding much less moody now. Indeed, he almost sounded as
if he were teasing me.
"If so, the following responses are more acceptable than 'hmm,'" he said. "'Thank you, Quin, for saving me.'"
"I don't think I like where this is going."
"'You were right, Quin. The lane was the safest place for me. I should have stayed there.'"
I rolled my eyes but he wouldn't have seen. He had been right, but that didn't mean I would play his silly game.
"'Next time I will obey your every word.'"
"Ha!"
He flashed a grin at me. "I knew that one would get a response."
I nudged him. Actually, I shoved him, but his step didn't falter. He responded by placing his arm around my shoulders and kissing the top of my head. His lips lingered and our pace slowed in unison until we stopped altogether. I circled my arms around his waist and lifted my face.
"You must be careful," he murmured against my forehead. "For me."
I rested my cheek against his chest and listened to the quiet, steady rhythm of his heart. "I am trying. I promise I didn't plan on leaving the lane."
His entire body seemed to sigh. His grip momentarily tightened before he pulled away. I refused to let go of his hand, however, and he didn't seem to want to sever that small connection either.
"You will get on the first train to Harborough in the morning, won't you?" he said.
"Yes. I never thought Frakingham would be the safest place for me, but it does seem that it is right now, what with Edith Myer roaming around London."
"And Alwyn."
I'd forgotten about him. Odd how he seemed like the lesser threat. I shook that thought away. It was the sort of thinking that could see him taking me by surprise and…
Quin must have detected my shudder through our linked hands. He pulled me closer to his side and pressed his hand to my lower back, above my bustle.
A little over an hour after leaving Camden Town, we arrived back at the Eaton Square house. The servants hastened to serve dinner in the dining room, and we both ate heartily with the footman and butler hovering nearby. Even afterward, when I wanted a quiet moment with Quin again, no amount of pointed looks in Watkins' direction made him leave. I supposed he was simply doing what he thought his absent master would want by ensuring my reputation was safe. It was somewhat frustrating, however, when it came to saying goodbye.
I lingered as long as possible in the dining room with Quin before walking slowly to the front door. We managed to put enough distance between us and the over-protective butler to have a private conversation, as long as we kept our voices low.
"What would you do if you were Edith Myer at this point?" I asked Quin.
"And I wanted to stay here?"
I nodded.
"I would destroy anyone who stood in my way—Myer, de Mordaunt, or a warrior from Purgatory tasked with sending me back if they fail."
I swallowed heavily. Destroy was such a final word.
"Then I would ensure the portal could never be used again so that nothing more could be sent through to take me back."
I chewed on my lower lip, thinking through the chain of events. "If you did it in that order, there's a danger of the administrators sending someone—or something—else through the portal before it's destroyed if they detect their warriors are…no longer able to serve them."
"So you would destroy the portal first?"
I nodded. "What would happen to you and de Mordaunt if the portal was destroyed and you were still here? Would you get to live here?"
He must have heard the hope in my voice, because his eyes softened. "No. We are dead. Nothing can change that. The administrators have granted us the use of these physical forms while we're here."
Granted. How kind of them.
"Destroying the portal would cut off our link to Purgatory, to the administrators, and we would simply cease to exist," he finished.
Simply? "But your spirits would remain, wouldn't they? I could communicate with you as I can with any ghost."
His hands twitched as if he would reach for me, but then he lowered them. "No. Only spirits who haven't crossed over from the waiting area can linger here."
My chest tightened. "Your spirit wouldn't return to Purgatory? Or move on?"
"It hasn't happened before."
It wasn't a no or an aye. Perhaps he didn't know. The hairs on the back of my neck rose as a chill seeped through my skin and settled in my bones. The thought of Quin ceasing to exist was horrible indeed. We couldn't meet up again in spirit form after my death if his essence was destroyed.
"If the demon thinks like us, Frakingham may not be the best place for you," Quin said.
"No. Perhaps not."
He took my hands. In the shadows near the staircase, Watkins stirred. I ignored him and focused on the caress of Quin's thumbs over my knuckles.
"Stay here until I send word," he said. "If she has left the city, you will remain at Beaufort's house. If she has not, you can go."
"And Alwyn?"
The shadows deepened in his eyes. "Will incur my wrath if he comes anywhere near you." He kissed the back of my hand, a very proper way for a suitor to bid his paramour goodnight. I wished for more. "Be careful, Cara."
"You too."
He opened the door but waited for Watkins to shuffle forward and see him out. "See that Lord Alwyn does not come inside."
"Yes, sir."
***
The morning dragged. I thought about visiting Samuel, Charity and Tommy but was afraid I'd miss any news from Quin. Not knowing how he fared was tying my stomach in knots, but knowing that I'd missed him if he came would be worse.
The pounding on the front door after luncheon had me leaping out of my chair in the sitting room. My sewing tumbled to the floor, but I was in too much of a rush to pick it up. I raced to the entrance hall, but hung back when I saw that it wasn't Watkins opening the door, but the footman.
"Did you check who it was first?" I asked him.
He blinked at me, his hand on the door handle. He didn't get a chance to respond. A hulking figure barged through and shoved him aside. The poor footman tumbled onto his rear. I almost went to aid him, until I saw who'd entered.
Alwyn bared his teeth and fixed wild eyes on me. "Come here, little bitch." He lunged past the footman and grabbed my wrist before I could flee.
He raised his arm, and I could do nothing more than turn my face as his massive paw came down and smashed into my cheek.
White hot pain burned one side of my face. My knees gave way. My vision blurred and everything went black.
CHAPTER 11
Voices filled my head. Loud voices. I opened my eyes, but winced as pain lanced my cheek and the bright light burned. I struggled to sit up. A pair of arms helped me. They were a comfort and I reclined into them, allowing him—they were definitely a man's arms—to hold me steady.
"Cara? Are you all right?"
"Nathaniel?" It came out slightly slurred. I squinted at him and tried to smile, but it hurt too much. "What are you doing here?"
A resounding crash and the shattering of glass had me spinning around, despite the pain. I gasped. Quin stood over Alwyn. The earl lay on the tiled floor, the hall table and mirror in pieces around him. His nose and lip bled and a dark bruise smudged his jaw, growing darker by the second. His eyes rolled up to the ceiling and he groaned. Nobody helped him as he attempted to sit up. Instead, Quin pressed his boot to Alwyn's chest, pinning him.
"Quin!"
He turned at the sound of my voice and removed his boot from Alwyn. "Cara." He closed the gap between us and knelt beside me. His hand hovered near my sore cheek before gently drawing a curl away from my temple. Pain darkened his eyes as he studied my face.
"I must look a sight," I said, trying to smile. God, even that hurt. I sucked in a steadying breath that would hopefully help me conquer the pain as well as mend my shredded nerves. It didn't work. I couldn't stop shaking.
Nathaniel's hand tightened on my arm. "Can you stand?" His voice was gentle, and his hands sure,
as he helped me to my feet. They were not the hands I wanted touching me.
I withdrew my arm, but gave him a nod of thanks. I hazarded a glance at Quin, who'd also stood. His face was pale, the ridges of muscles in his throat hard and uncompromising. There was a stillness about him that seemed forced and unnatural, as if he were struggling against something. Not moving toward me? Why didn't he?
His gaze roamed down my length, lingering on my battered cheek, before finally meeting my own gaze. "You need to sit," he said. "And…drink tea."
"I'll bring some," said the housekeeper, standing back in the shadows of the staircase. Her footsteps hurried away.
"I think she needs a doctor more than tea." Nathaniel eyed my cheek. "The bone may be broken."
Quin's nostrils flared. "Of course. A doctor…" He cleared his throat.
I touched my cheek. It hurt but the pain was already lessening. "I don't think it's broken."
"Nevertheless, we'll fetch a doctor."
"I'll go, sir," said the maid. She skirted around Alwyn, her gaze glued to him, then raced out the door.
"Come into the sitting room." Nathaniel placed one hand on my elbow and the other at my back.
Quin watched from beneath lowered eyelids, his thoughts no longer visible to me. I wished it was his hands steering me, but he seemed to not want to touch me. It made no sense. What was he afraid of?
"Sir, what shall we do with him?" Watkins kicked Alwyn's knee, drawing a groan from the earl.
Quin arched a brow. "Cara? It's up to you."
"I want the law to deal with him as they would any common thug," I said.
"Take him to the kitchen," Quin ordered Watkins and the footman. "Tie him to a chair and fetch the relevant authorities. Be sure to report back after his hanging."
Watkins's eyes almost popped out of his head.
"We only hang for murder," I told Quin.
"Pity."
I allowed Nathaniel to help me into the sitting room. Quin didn't follow as Alwyn began to struggle, and Quin had to suppress him with another blow to the head. He seemed to relish the task and wasn't too gentle in dragging a dazed Alwyn off to the service area.
