by C. J. Archer
I got to my feet slowly, careful to keep them all in my line of sight. Behind them, Seth, Gus and Lincoln moved, groaning. They were alive, thank God, but in a bad way. "I am the person who will kill you all and bring you back from the dead to do my bidding unless you do as I say. Stand over there together where I can see you." I pointed the gun at the middle of the street.
One man moved, but the other caught his sleeve. "She won't do it," he said. "She's lying. Ain't no one can bring back the dead."
I aimed the gun at him. "Until recently I didn't know that people can become wolves and bears. Yet here you are." I nodded at the corpse. "And here she is. Dead yet walking. Force them to stand together," I ordered the corpse.
She moved toward the men, her arms herding them like cattle. "I can't stop," she muttered. "Why? What're you doing to me?"
The men edged away from her. The other woman raised her hands in surrender. I aimed my pistol at them. Seth got to his knees and aimed his, too. He cocked it with his forearm, not his injured hand. Despite the blood streaming from a cut above his eye, he looked furious and very much prepared to pull the trigger.
Behind him, Lincoln and Gus stumbled to their feet. I did not go to them but immense relief flooded me. I concentrated on our attackers. The danger was not yet over, not for Harriet.
"Go inside and insure King doesn't harm Lady Gillingham," I ordered the dead woman. "Do whatever it takes to free her."
"No! I won't do it." But her feet moved even as she protested. The others watched her go, a mixture of wonder and fear on their faces. The dead woman clomped toward King's house, her gait awkward, as if her feet were rooted to the ground and she had to rip them up with each step. By the time she reached his door, however, she'd become used to her dead body and moved more freely.
Curtains fluttered up and down the street. Neighbors peered out but remained indoors, too afraid. How long did we have before constables arrived? The gunshot would have been heard from one end of Bloomsbury to the other.
"We all go," Lincoln said. Somehow his face only bore a single cut to his cheek. The rest of him, however, must be black and blue.
I did not help him as he limped after the deceased, his body bent slightly, his arms folded over his stomach. He didn't utter a sound, however, but I knew every piece of him must burn with pain. I ached to inspect his wounds and apply salves, but it would have to wait.
Seth and I forced the others to follow at gunpoint. They went meekly and headed up the stairs to King's place without uttering a sound. There was no sign of the landlady. I didn't blame her for hiding.
The dead woman already had King pinned to a wall by his shoulders in the parlor. He could use his hands to push at her, but get no strength behind it. She was too strong even for him.
Harriet huddled in a corner on the floor, whimpering, her feet tucked under her skirts, her face buried in her hands. No one took any notice of her.
"Let me go!" King ordered.
"Can't," the dead woman said. "Sorry, King, she controls me."
His gaze slid to me. "How?"
"Harriet is walking out of here," I told him. "You will not come near her or anyone associated with her. Is that understood?"
"I didn't plan on harming her."
"We heard you say you would have your way with her."
"She wanted me to. Didn't you, Harriet?"
"No!" she cried.
"But I'm your pack leader. You belong to me now."
"I belong to my husband. I wanted to run with you. Nothing more," she added in a mumble, all the fight gone out of her.
She picked herself up and came to stand beside me. I hooked my arm through hers and she seemed to take comfort in the close connection.
"If you come near Harriet again, I will send London's dead to you door," I told King.
He swallowed. "All of them?"
"As many as I can muster." Sometimes, a little white lie felt good. Wickedly good. "Now, answer our questions and we'll let you go."
Lincoln had remained by the door. He'd straightened but his face was racked with pain. I let Harriet go and went to him. I touched the tips of his fingers, an offer of encouragement. He gave me a flat smile and walked steadily toward King.
"You changed into the Prince Consort's form," Lincoln said quietly yet firmly.
"Did I?"
"How did you do it?"
King's lips pressed together. He looked away.
"Punch him in the stomach," I told the dead woman.
She protested, but did as I ordered. "Sorry," she said to King as he coughed over her.
"I will have her kill you," I told King. "After what your friends did to mine tonight, I have no qualms about that. We know you went to the palace and used the prince consort's form to speak to the queen. How can you change into his form, and others?"
"I don't know," he said. "It's just something I can do, like you can do…" He indicated the dead woman. "This. I learned years ago that I could shift into other shapes, but not easily. Anything other than my natural shapes took practice, and if I wanted to copy someone specific, it took years of practice."
"Your natural shapes?"
"This one and the one I run in."
"You've been trying to look like the prince consort for some time," Lincoln said. "You wanted to be him, didn't you? Hence the name you adopted."
"I've been told I resemble him a little." King tried to shrug, but with his shoulders pinned to the wall, it looked more like a twitch. "It was just a game. No harm done."
"No harm!" I marched up to him and poked him in the chest. "The queen thinks she's been speaking to her beloved dead husband!"
"And how is that a bad thing? She adores him still. Why not give her some happiness and allow her to think he pines for her as much as she pines for him?"
"You sicken me," I said.
"I know what I'm doing."
"And what is that?" Lincoln asked. "What do you want from her?"
King sniffed. "Nothing."
Lincoln smashed his fist into King's face. It was so sudden that even I was caught by surprise. King's head smacked against the wall and for a moment, he looked dazed. Blood trickled from his mouth, and he spluttered then spat out a tooth. "Bloody hell, aren't you in a fine mood."
"Is it any wonder?" I snapped. "You ordered your people to kill them!" I had a mind to punch him myself.
"I can wipe out every last one of your pack," Lincoln said with a growl that was more animal than human. "I can see that your kind become extinct after tonight. Don't presume I will show mercy, because I will not. Not after you showed us none."
Harriet gasped. King's pack exchanged worried glances. "Tell him," one of the men urged King. "The secret don't matter no more. You tried and got caught, and that's the end of it. Tell him what he needs to know!"
"It's not as simple as that." King sounded as if he were weighing up his options. "There will be repercussions."
"Seth," Lincoln barked.
Seth limped forward. "Yes?"
"Shoot one of them. I don't care which."
Seth blinked at Lincoln then took aim at one of the men. The man stumbled back and fell onto a chair, his hands in the air. "I didn't want to harm no one."
Seth cocked the gun. Harriet turned away and covered her ears. The living woman screamed.
"Don't!" King bit off. "All right! I'll tell you what you need to know. I, I simply wanted to convince Her Majesty that shape shifters are harmless, and that no one should fear them."
I frowned. That was all?
"She's weak," he went on. "She's impressionable and was easily guided by her late husband when he was alive. I hoped he could influence her in death, too."
"Influence her to do what?" Lincoln asked.
King's tongue darted out and licked his lips. "I, I mentioned that shifters are just as much her subjects as everyone else, and deserve to walk freely in England and not hide."
"But you're not harmless," I said. "You proved that tonight."
; "Exceptional circumstances," he said with another attempt at a shrug. "You clearly knew too much about us and wanted to threaten us. When my people are threatened, I act according to my instincts."
It was madness and yet it made sense, in a way. He was acting on animal instinct; the instinct to protect one's pack and fight for territory.
"Who put you up to this?" Lincoln asked.
King's head snapped back. "No one. I acted alone."
"Who did he work for?" I asked the dead woman.
King's gaze turned icy. I shivered.
"I don't know," the woman said in a steady voice.
King shot me a triumphant smile. "I told you," he said, silkily. "I work alone. There is no one else like me, you see. No one else who can change into anyone, anything. It was easy to get into the palace, rifle through the letters and steal a picture of the prince."
"You needed a picture to perfect your impersonation," I said. "And the second time, yesterday, how did you get in?"
"I took on the form of a young maid. No one specific. Nobody notices a plain girl in a maid's uniform. There are so many in the palace. When I reached the queen's private apartments, I changed into the prince consort's form and put on the clothes I'd brought with me. Simple." Smugness touched his smile. He was proud of his deception.
"Charlie, any more questions?" Lincoln asked.
"Just one," I said. "Where's Mink?"
"Who?" King asked.
"A young friend of mine, slim, about fourteen or fifteen."
He shook his head. "Ain't seen no young brats about."
Gus opened the door for us, and I exited with Harriet.
"Oi!" the dead woman called. "What about me?"
"I will release your spirit when we're safely away."
"Oh, and thank you," Harriet said to the woman. "Your advice earlier was invaluable."
The bloodless lips of the corpse stretched thin. She went to spit on the floor, but the dead can't produce spittle. "Traitor."
Harriet's grip tightened on my arm. Tears spilled silently down her cheeks. I led her away and down the stairs. Gus, Seth and Lincoln followed.
"Shouldn't you question him further?" Seth asked, falling into step alongside Lincoln. "About the person who paid him, I mean."
"He won't give us an answer," Lincoln said. "I'll need to follow him or go through his correspondence. But not tonight."
"No," Seth said quietly, cradling his hand to his chest. "Not tonight."
"What if he tries to leave London altogether?" I asked. "Perhaps this will frighten him off."
"He won't leave without his pack, but I'll make arrangements to have him watched."
We walked as quickly as the injured men could go, passing two constables heading in the direction of Rugby Street. They didn't seem in any particular hurry and didn't stop us.
I worried that we wouldn't find a cab on such a miserable evening and indeed, there were no hansoms to be seen, but larger hacks waited outside St. Pancras station. We managed to all squeeze in one. Seth and Gus groaned as they sat, with me between them, and Lincoln winced when Seth accidentally trod on his foot.
We drove toward Mayfair first to take Harriet home. I didn't say the words to release the shifter's spirit until we were almost there.
"How did you know to come looking for me?" Harriet asked.
"Your husband informed us of your disappearance," Lincoln said.
She winced. "Was he very cross?"
"Very," I said. "Will he punish you?"
Her fingers wrung together in her lap then suddenly stilled. She smiled at her reflection in the darkened window. "We shall see."
"Did you tell King about us?" Lincoln asked.
"No! Not a word. I did not mention names, the ministry or Lichfield Towers. After the attack and before you joined us, I told him you were strangers, local troublemakers."
"He won't believe that now," I said.
"I won't tell him about you, I promise. I never want to see that man again."
"It's likely you will. You're part of his pack now. He thinks you belong to him."
She bit the inside of her lip and her hands resumed their wringing. "I only wanted to go for a run and meet others like me."
"I understand," I said gently.
Seth grunted and shifted his weight, only to groan again. "Next time you want to go for a run, come to Lichfield. I'll ride alongside you."
"Thank you, Seth, you're very sweet."
He didn't look at all sweet. He looked in pain, in between his scowls.
Gus checked his bruised and bloody knuckles. "Everything hurts. They were bloody strong."
"I feel awful," Harriet said, dabbing at her eyes with her little finger. "Everyone is injured because of me. And Charlie, you look like a bedraggled urchin. Were you up that tree? You poor thing. And Seth, your eye is closing up. Here, take my handkerchief and let me take care of you."
Gus rolled his eyes. "Heaven help us if that pretty face gets messed up. Don't want the golden boy to lose his looks."
"If I could be sure it wouldn't hurt me more, I would thump you," Seth said idly. "And my face is not pretty. It's ruggedly handsome."
"Who says? Your mother?"
"Yes, as it happens." Seth grinned but it quickly vanished. He dabbed the handkerchief to his wound. "She's going to have a fit when she sees me like this."
"You could hide out in the cellar until it heals," Gus said helpfully. "Or the kitchen. She don't go in there."
"Don't worry," I said cheerfully. "Alice's concern will make up for any lectures your mother doles out."
Seth brightened. "Good point. I wonder if she's still up at this hour. What time is it, anyway?"
"Eleven," Lincoln said without looking at a watch. "And Charlie gets the first bath."
Seth held up his hands. "Fine by me. I'm going to be busy reassuring Alice that I'll recover."
"Not your mother?" I asked.
"She'll be in bed at this hour, thank God."
We arrived at Harriet's house. Lincoln opened the door for her and stepped down to assist her from the carriage.
"Thank you," she said to us. She squeezed my hand. "You were all marvelous." She allowed Lincoln to escort her up the steps. "I am sorry for all the trouble I caused," I heard her say.
The front door opened and Gillingham appeared in the brightly lit entrance, not the butler. The three of them conversed briefly then Lincoln returned.
"She'll be fine," he said, thumping the cabin ceiling once he'd settled.
"How can you know?" I asked.
"Because she knows her strength now, and he's a coward."
"You think she'll use her strength to curtail his wrath?"
"I hope so," Seth muttered.
The drive from Mayfair to Highgate took some time. The rocking of the coach lulled us, including Lincoln. He closed his eyes but did not rest his head against the walls like the other two. I gently laid my hand on his knee and he settled his bruised hand over mine. He kept the other close to his chest. I suspected it sported broken bones, as did Seth's.
"I'm worried about Mink," I said quietly.
"I know."
"Where do you think he is? What's happened to him?"
He said nothing, and I knew he was avoiding mentioning the worst.
"And what about keeping an eye on King?" I asked. "Do you want me to do it tonight? Or Cook?"
"Gillingham will send men around, so he informed me."
"Is it wise to leave it to him? It's a great responsibility to watch a shifter as wily as King, and Gillingham's not the most competent."
"He has competent men working for him."
"But—"
"No more questions, Charlie. Please." He closed his eyes again and didn't reopen them until we reached Lichfield's gates.
The warm glow of the lamps at the front of the house welcomed us, and the door opened before we reached it. Doyle stepped aside to let us past, his features as schooled as ever, although I thought I detected a flicker of a
larm in his eyes when he saw how gingerly the men walked.
"'Bout bloody time," Cook growled, hands on hips. "We thought you all be dead."
"Almost," Seth muttered. Then he suddenly beamed. "Ah, Alice, good evening."
Alice rushed down the stairs, a fringed shawl slipping off her shoulders. "Thank goodness you're back. We've been worried."
Seth held out his hand to Alice. She seemed confused by the gesture then took it. "I'm sorry I can't use my right hand," Seth said indicating his badly bruised right, cradled against his chest.
Alice gasped. "What happened?"
"I punched someone very hard." He jerked his head, flicking his damp hair off his forehead. "It's nothing."
Alice looked at Lincoln, Gus and me. "Are you all hurt?"
"Just the men," I told her.
Cook slapped Gus's shoulder in a friendly gesture and Gus yelped. "Where does it hurt?" Cook asked him.
"There." Gus shrugged off his coat, hissing in pain. "Everywhere."
"Doyle, fetch Dr. MacDonnell," I said. "Tell him there will broken bones, bruises and cuts. A lot of them."
"I'll leave right away," the butler said. "Before I go, I must warn you that we have some visitors staying the night."
I lifted my brows at Alice. "Not your parents already, surely?"
She shook her head. "The children. Mrs. Cotchin put them all in the last bedroom. They managed to fit in the bed, but it's tight."
"Mink?" I blurted out. "Is he here?"
"I'm here," came a small voice from the shadows. He stepped forward and I ran to him and hugged him. I was happier to see him than I had been to see Harriet.
He wriggled in my embrace and I pulled away. He looked unharmed, but tired. "What happened to you?"
"Nothing." He dipped his head, sheepish.
"Tell them," Alice ordered gently.
"I went for a walk." He shrugged. "I had to think."
"You went for a walk!" I cried. "Without telling anyone? Mink, you ought to know better."
"Didn't think anyone cared," he muttered.
I hugged him again and ignored his protest. "Finley cared enough to race here when he realized you didn't get home," I said in his ear. "And I've been worried sick all day. Next time, tell someone where you're going."
He nodded and wriggled free again. He lifted his gaze to mine. "I had to think about the things you said, about staying here with you."
