by C. J. Archer
"Remarkable," Hannah said on breath.
"We suspect the dreams are a conduit between this realm and another, and Alice is the portal."
"What form do the beings take?" Hannah asked. "What do they do and say? Do they remain here or return?"
"So many questions!" Alice attempted a smile but it quickly faded. She set down her cake too and clasped her hands in her lap. The knuckles turned white. "To answer your first question, they take the form of humans, mostly, but I've also seen a talking rabbit."
"He wore a waistcoat," Gus added. "And trousers."
Seth glared at him and shook his head in discouragement. Gus stuffed the rest of his cake in his mouth and glared back.
"They speak English," Alice went on. She looked to me and I encouraged her with a nod. "They seem to want me to return with them to a place called Wonderland, to answer charges of treason. The Queen of Hearts rules there and sent her subjects to fetch me. They have not remained here, as yet. It used to be that when I awoke from my dream, all characters from it would disappear."
Gus clicked his fingers. "Just like that. Into thin air."
"But the last time the rabbit came, he did not disappear when I woke up. He remained until he spoke a spell. Before he disappeared, he seemed quite surprised and pleased that he was still in my bedroom after I awoke."
"As if he'd spoken a spell to remain but hadn't been sure it would work," Lincoln added.
Jack and Hannah exchanged a glance.
"You have something to say?" Lincoln asked.
"We're wondering if the spell is the same one that opens the portal at the abbey," Jack said.
"Show it to us and we'll compare."
"The answer is still no, Fitzroy."
"Did the rabbit change into a human?" Hannah asked.
Alice shook her head. "It remained a rabbit."
"But you've encountered some shape shifting demons, yes?"
"Too bloody many," Gus muttered. "I've got the scars to prove it."
"So I see." Hannah indicated the ragged scar that marred Gus's cheek and pulled at the corner of his eye.
"Ah, not that one. That's an old one. There's a good story behind it but it ain't for the ears of ladies."
"Now I am intrigued."
Seth rolled his eyes. "He got in a tavern brawl. There's nothing more to it than that."
"A brawl that you started," Gus shot back.
Seth cast a sideways glance at Alice and swallowed heavily. He didn't like Alice knowing much about his past. I thought it a shame that he felt he needed to hide it from her. His past was a part of him; it helped shape the man he'd become. If he wanted Alice to be permanently in his life, she should know all there was to know about him, even the horrid or shameful parts. I only hoped he told her before she found out through other means.
"We know some shape shifters who can shift between human and wolf-like creatures," I said. "Another could change to look like anyone or anything but he's dead now."
"Those are the rarest kind and pose the greatest threat," Jack said, nodding. "Have your shape shifters caused problems?"
"Some," Lincoln said but did not elaborate. "They're under control and being monitored."
"By you?"
"And others."
"You have spies?"
Lincoln didn't answer. From his small smile, I don't think Jack expected to get one.
"They're not all dangerous," I said. "One is even our friend, married to a committee member." Who was decidedly not our friend, but I didn't add that. "Those who have caused us problems in the past know they're being monitored and if they put a foot wrong, we'll see that justice is served."
The truce between Sir Ignatius Swinburn's pack and the ministry was uneasy at best but it had held so far. We promised to leave him and his pack alone to roam as long as they harmed no one. There'd been no more mauled bodies since poor Roderick Protheroe had been found dead in Hyde Park in the spring. Swinburn had also vowed not to pursue his ambitious plan to mix shifter blood with royal blood through marriage. Two months later, I felt somewhat optimistic that he'd given up on his scheming.
"What precisely are demons?" Seth asked. "Can they all change shape?"
"No." Jack clicked his fingers and fire danced on his palm. A swirl of his hand made the flames disappear.
Alice gasped. "Did it leave a mark?"
He showed us his hand. It wasn't even red. "It doesn't hurt."
"Jack is a demon, although I don't particularly like that word," Hannah said with a twist of her mouth. "He can't shift shape. The fire is his only supernatural trick."
"Only?" her husband teased. "How many more would you like?"
"One is quite enough, thank you."
"And your baby son?" Lincoln asked. "Can he make fire too?"
"Clearly you know nothing about babies," Jack said. "He has only just learned to crawl."
"Let me know if he develops the trait."
Jack bristled. "Why?"
"So I can add him to the ministry files."
"You will not put my son into your records."
"I will if he exhibits fire-making skill. You have your own file."
"It's all right, Jack," Hannah said. "We discussed this." To Lincoln, she added, "We agree, but you must promise to keep his file under lock and key. No one outside the ministry must be allowed to see it."
"That is already so with all the records," Lincoln said. "Not even the committee members see them."
We talked them into showing us the abbey ruins and headed down there after finishing our tea. Jack carried their baby, relieving the nanny of her duties for the rest of the afternoon. The sun hung lower in the sky but the warmth of the day lingered on, and I was hot by the time we reached the lake and ruins.
"It's so atmospheric," I said, taking in the view. Most of the stones lay scattered in the thick grass where they'd fallen centuries ago, but some remained in position and formed the floor and base of the abbey walls. Its layout was clearly defined; the doorways and window enclosures easy to spot. I could easily imagine monks bustling along its corridors or congregating for prayer.
A breeze brushed the blades of grass and brought the scent of summer flowers from across the lake. Alice drew a deep breath. "So peaceful."
"Its demise wasn't peaceful," Jack said. He leaned against the wall and made a face at the baby in his arms to win a smile. He was rewarded with a giggle.
I wandered around the ruins with Hannah, only half listening as she pointed out the function of each of the rooms we found ourselves in. The rest of my attention was focused on Lincoln. He'd wandered off on his own but kept coming back to a particular spot. Perhaps he'd sensed something about it with his seer's eye. Jack watched him too, a small frown connecting his brows.
"You're getting married soon," Hannah said, following my gaze to Lincoln.
"In eleven days." I twisted my engagement ring and smiled. Sometimes it was hard to believe how much my life had changed in twelve months. Not only did I have a home and security, something I feared I'd never have again, but I had friends who were like a family to me. And I was about to marry the man I loved, who loved me in return.
"You both look very happy," Hannah said.
"You think Lincoln looks happy? Usually only I can tell when he is."
She laughed. "To be honest, I'm guessing. He's rather hard to read." She took my arm in hers and gazed at her husband and baby. "I hope you will be as fortunate in your marriage as I am."
"Thank you. I hope so too."
"Jack's friend, Tommy, who married Jack's cousin, Sylvia, once said that the key to a happy marriage is never ending the day angry with one another."
"And what does she say?"
"That her husband is so amenable that she always gets her own way."
We both laughed.
"And what of Seth and Alice?" Hannah asked.
I followed her gaze to where Seth helped Alice down from a low wall, his hands on her waist. "They're a work in progress."
"It would seem he has quite some work to do," Hannah said.
* * *
We woke early the following morning to catch the train back to London. It had been a pleasant overnight stay, and we'd learned a lot from one another, but I sensed Lincoln was eager to leave after breakfast. I was too. While our brief country sojourn had been idyllic, it was too close to the wedding date to be away from home for long. Lady Vickers could have got up to all sorts of mischief in my absence. I half expected to find some of her friends added to the guest list or the flowers to be changed. At least I knew Cook wouldn't alter the menu without consulting me first.
While I liked to involve her, since I had no mother to share the experience with, she could be a little too determined to have her own way sometimes. Seth scolded her once, reminding her she was not the mother of the bride. Seeing her crestfallen face, I'd vowed not to do the same, but it wasn't always easy.
"It was good of Hannah to invite us back whenever we liked," Alice said, settling on the seat in a vacant first class compartment. "Perhaps we can return again after your honeymoon, Charlie."
I sat beside her and removed my gloves. It was too hot to wear them. Alice frowned at my impropriety but didn't scold. "So soon?" I asked.
"Of course. It's lovely in the country. And what a grand house! I adored it."
"You found it cold and uninviting at first."
"The people made it feel welcoming. Hannah and Jack were very kind. Even if you don't come back with me, I'll visit again for certain."
I wondered how much of her enthusiasm for Freak House had to do with the portal at the ruins and the possibility of learning more about herself from it and the Langleys. I felt a little sad that she never spoke so effusively about Lichfield Towers, but I shouldn't be surprised. She'd often told me it wasn't her home, merely a temporary roof over her head. She hated the idleness of her life there. I understood the need to feel useful, but I did wonder why Lichfield held no appeal for her while Seth resided there.
I said nothing, however, as I listened to the men approaching along the corridor.
"As the role of father-of-the-bride has fallen to me," Seth declared, "I must insist that we have a discussion before the wedding, Fitzroy."
Lincoln did not respond, perhaps because he knew they were nearing the door to our compartment. He could sense my presence when I was near.
"I'd shut up if I were you," Gus hissed.
"Charlie's like a little sister to me," Seth barreled on. "I'm warning you, Fitzroy. If you ever—" He stopped outside the door when he spotted us. "Ah. Charlie, Alice, I didn't know you were in here."
Gus shoved Seth inside and filled the doorway with his big, grinning face. "That'll teach you to flap your jaw."
"I doubt it," Lincoln said, coming in behind them. "He's a slow learner."
Seth hoisted his small bag onto the luggage rack above us. "If I weren't so affable, I'd take offence at that. Besides, I know you love me like a brother, Fitzroy."
"More like a cousin."
"A distant second cousin," Gus said, adding two more bags to Seth's. "On the side of the family no one mentions in polite conversation."
Alice giggled behind her hand.
Seth dug his elbow into Gus's ribs. "My apologies," he said through a strained smile. "It's crowded in here and you're the size of an elephant. Please sit down before you fall on the ladies and squash them."
Seth and Gus sat opposite us while Lincoln squeezed next to me. His thigh touched mine as the carriage jerked forward and remained there as he removed the newspaper tucked under his arm. He spent the next several minutes reading the front page while the rest of us conversed above the rhythmic click-clack of the train. The intimate connection between Lincoln and I was oddly distracting in a pleasant way, and I wanted to make eye contact to see if it affected him too. But he kept his gaze strictly averted from mine. He seemed quite disinterested, damn him.
Because we were touching, I was able to feel when he suddenly tensed after turning the page. "Lincoln? Is something the matter?"
He lowered the newspaper and pointed at an article near the top. MAN MAULED TO DEATH the headline screamed. A body had been found in the Old Nichol area of London with deep gashes to his throat and chest that resembled claw marks. The article suspected a wild dog attack, but made no connection to the death of Protheroe two months ago. There was nothing to suspect the mauling had been done by a shape shifting wolf.
Yet I knew it to my bones. I felt sick. "He broke the truce," I said heavily. "Swinburn and his pack are killing again."
Chapter 2
Lincoln informed us that he would not remain long at Lichfield but leave to speak with Swinburn immediately after arriving home. He wanted Seth and Gus to accompany him.
They didn't need to go anywhere, however. Swinburn was waiting for us, along with Lady Harcourt. Lady Vickers looked relieved to relinquish the role of hostess to me when we entered the drawing room.
"Excuse me," she said, rising to her full, commanding height. "I must go. There's so much to do this close to the wedding."
Lady Harcourt picked at the copper colored thread embroidered into her skirt. "Speaking of the wedding, I assume I am not invited."
"You assume correctly," Lincoln said.
"I didn't think I would be, but I wanted to be certain. I may have plans for then." Lady Harcourt's tone was equal parts sweet and sour. "Now that I know I'll be free, I can go ahead with them." She wrapped her fingers around Swinburn's arm and bestowed him with a pretty smile.
He smiled back, his gaze dipping momentarily to her lush bosom before rising again to her face. She looked as beautiful as ever, but not as youthful. Small lines fanned from the corners of her eyes and the bones in her face were sharper. Worry and turmoil was wearing her down. Not that I felt sorry for her. She'd brought misery on her own head by alternately flirting with her stepson, Andrew Buchanan, and casting him aside. Their vindictive natures meant they could not leave one another in peace and so they both got hurt. She'd thrown him out of her house, even though he had a right to live there according to his late father's will. As far as I knew, he was living with his brother on the family's Oxfordshire estate. It may not be the best place for him, considering he and his brother did not get along, but it must be infinitely better than living with his stepmother. Their destructive relationship did neither of them any good.
I expected her to have shed the unhappiness Buchanan's presence inflicted on her, but looking at her now, it was clear she wasn't content. There was a certain air of victory in the way she held herself but there was no true contentment. I couldn't quite fathom it.
Lady Vickers exited the drawing room, taking Alice with her. Gus closed the door behind them and stood with his hands at his back. Lady Harcourt perched on the sofa's edge, Swinburn at her side. He was twenty years her senior with a stocky build. None would call him handsome, but that wouldn't matter to her. His wealth and connections were more important. She'd set her hooks into him two months ago, and it seemed she'd finally reeled him in after his initial resistance. I wondered what had changed his mind.
She clung to him in a way that Lady Vickers would describe as vulgar. It would seem Lady Harcourt had won her prize and planned on keeping him. That must be why she seemed victorious. He was wealthy and, although not titled, he was knighted. It was perhaps the best she could hope for, given that her background as a dancer had been made public. Her friends had dwindled in number and her prospects for another advantageous marriage dried up after the revelation. If she wanted to maintain the life she'd become accustomed to, she needed to marry a man like Swinburn. It would seem marriage might be on the cards if they were this close. Clearly it didn't concern her that he was a shape-shifting demon.
"You've been away." Swinburn eyed Lincoln with caution, as if he expected Lincoln t
o lash out at any moment.
"Where did you go?" Lady Harcourt asked.
"That's not your business," Lincoln said.
She stiffened. "It most certainly is! As a committee member—"
"It is not your business," he said again, punching out each word.
The muscles in her face worked as she battled not to bite back at him.
"You broke the truce," Lincoln said simply.
Swinburn held up his hands but it was Lady Harcourt who protested. "He did not! How dare you, Lincoln! How dare you suggest such a thing. Sir Ignatius has abided by the terms of the truce. That death last night had nothing to do with him or his pack."
"Swinburn?" Lincoln prompted.
"Julia is correct," Swinburn said. "That death wasn't caused by anyone from my pack. That's why I came here today—to reassure you before you jumped to the wrong conclusion. Indeed, Julia suggested I come."
"I know how you can be," she told Lincoln.
"Meaning?" Seth snapped.
She ignored him. She didn't even look his way. They'd been lovers once, after she'd been Lincoln's lover, but Seth had grown to despise her after he learned her true nature.
"I know you well, Lincoln," she went on, "and I knew you'd assume Sir Ignatius broke the truce when you read about the mauling in the papers."
"We all came to the same conclusion when we read it," I said. "Not just Lincoln."
She ignored me too. At least I was in good company. "Lincoln, you do believe us, don't you?" Lady Harcourt clasped her hands together, an earnest frown crossing her brow. "The truce still stands. Look elsewhere for the killer."
"Gawler, perhaps," Swinburn said smoothly. Everything about him was smooth, unruffled, from his neatly trimmed moustache and slicked back hair to the curve of his lips. "The murder did occur in the East End. It seems more likely it was one of his pack than mine."
"Gawler wouldn't sanction it," Lincoln said. "He's no killer."
"We're all killers, Fitzroy. It's in our nature. Some of us suppress the instinct better than others—and for longer. Can he? Is he strong enough? Is he strong enough to control his pack?"
