Realms of Stone

by Sharon K Gilbert

  To everyone’s surprise, Charles interrupted. “Before anyone else goes over there, I wish to speak to her alone.”

  Paul shook his head. “No, Charles, I will not permit it. She may be dangerous.”

  “I do not require your permission, Cousin. And if she wished to harm me, she’s had ample opportunity.”

  “Then, if you must be foolish, allow me to go with you.”

  Sinclair placed a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “You can help me most by remaining here and leading the discussion.” He turned to Emerson. “Michael, if you’ll come along, you can see to Lorena’s injury and continue to watch me. Yes, I’ve noticed your surreptitious stares.”

  He left the table and headed to the closed doors. “In my absence, I hope you’ll study Paul and Reid’s reports. It would make smart use of our limited time. I want to know exactly what happened on Sunday night, all details of Trent’s autopsy, and every possible location where Beth might be. Also, I want to know what happened to the hybrids we killed that night. Where are their bodies? Have a list ready when I return.”

  The duke stood. “Son, why must you go at all? If Lorena comes here, then we can all speak with her.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s true, but I suspect this gathering would only intimidate her. Let me speak with her first, and then if she agrees, I’ll ask her to attend the next meeting.

  “Charles, I really wish you’d sit down,” Emerson pleaded as he followed his patient into the foyer of Queen Anne House. “A man’s body does not run on determination alone. Your injuries require rest and nourishment.”

  “I’ll obtain the nourishment at supper, and sleep will come when I’ve found Beth. Miles, would you let Dr. MacKey know I’d like to speak with her?”

  “Right away,” the butler told his employer. “Would you care for tea whilst waiting, my lord?”

  “He’d love some,” Emerson answered for Charles. “And soup, if Mrs. Smith has any prepared.”

  “She’s serving cress soup and braised quail with mushrooms, Dr. Emerson. Also, celery au gratin, fruit, apple tart, and cheese, sir.”

  “It all sounds quite delicious, Miles,” Charles answered, “but I’m sure the Haimsbury cooks have planned on us. No tea. I’m content with water, and it looks as though the carafes are full. Thank you.”

  The butler bowed and left, shutting the doors. Michael poured a glass of water from a cut-crystal carafe and handed it to his patient. “Are you always this obstinate?”

  “Generally, yes,” the marquess answered. “Thank you.” He drank half the water and set the glass on a nearby table. “Did I say anything whilst unconscious?”

  “Only as you were coming ‘round,” Michael answered. “Della heard you counting. She’s worried endlessly about you. I think the girl has formed a very strong attachment, as a daughter loves a father.”

  Sinclair smiled, thoughtfully. “She sees me as a father figure? That’s lovely. Has Paul noticed it?”

  “He’s the one who pointed it out. Look, I am not a part of the family, and it’s none of my business, but it’s my understanding that Adele is adopted. Is that correct?”

  “She is, but I don’t know if Della’s aware of it. She often points out that she has Stuart eyes, and that her hair is just like Paul’s. Why?” Charles decided against revealing the real reason for the family resemblance, that Paul Stuart was Adele’s father, not her brother. It was Paul’s secret to tell, not his.

  “My point is this,” Emerson explained. “If Della thinks herself a natural member of the earl’s family, then it stands to reason that she believes Paul’s father was her biological parent.”

  Sinclair sighed, unable to follow the logic. “Yes. And?”

  “Della still mourns the man she considers her father, Charles. You bear a striking resemblance to the late earl, and you have a natural gift for parenting. I’ve seen you with her. The girl lights up whenever you’re nearby. It’s important that you acknowledge that affection. Poor Della has been heartbroken, fearing that you, too, would die!”

  The marquess started to answer, but the drawing room doors opened before he could, admitting a tall woman with auburn hair and emerald green eyes.

  “You asked to speak to me?”

  Both men stood politely. Seeing Lorena MacKey caused Sinclair a momentary twinge of anger, but unlike his cousin, he not only overpowered the anger, but even managed to smile.

  “Michael, would you give us the room, please?”

  Emerson bowed and left, closing the doors.

  Sinclair offered her a chair. “Please, sit, Lorena. This shouldn’t take much time, and then Dr. Emerson will examine your shoulder.” She sat, and he took a seat opposite, not more than a foot away. “I’m very sorry for your injury, and the earl regrets it deeply. He’d tell you himself, but I wanted to speak with you alone first.”

  Lorena considered her response before opening her mouth. Sinclair surprised her with this display of chivalry and kindness, but despite his gentility, a lifetime of abuse at the hands of men dictated her answer.

  “Why is that, Lord Haimsbury? I’d assumed you’d drag me to your meeting and interrogate me there.”

  Paul Stuart would have answered sharply, but even if he felt it, Sinclair showed no hint of anger, instead he showed remarkable restraint, even sweetness. “You called me Charles in Scotland. May I not be so honoured now?”

  “I don’t understand. Lord Aubrey insisted I call you by your title.”

  He leaned closer, so that he might touch her hand. The simple gesture caused her to flinch. “I’m sorry. Is that your injured arm?”

  “No, it’s my left, actually, but it didn’t hurt. The shoulder is fine now.”

  “I’m very glad to hear it, and I’ve no wish to cause you dismay. I merely seek answers. Is that agreeable to you?” She nodded. “This may sound far too personal, Lorena, but I require information that only you may provide. Therefore, I must move quickly to the heart of my enquiry. Is that also agreeable?”

  “Yes. Ask me whatever you wish. I’ll do my best to answer honestly.”

  She appeared vulnerable, and Charles wondered if the manner were genuine or pretense. “Lorena, the earl told me what your stepfather did to you. How he abused you physically and even forced himself on you, when you were young. No woman should have to endure such horrors.”

  The physician took a moment to answer, and she swallowed hard before doing so, a sign of inner turmoil. Charles noticed her hand shaking ever so slightly—another tell. “I did nothing to invite that abuse, I assure you,” she whispered. “Why do you mention it?”

  “Only to let you know that I see you as a victim, not a perpetrator.”

  “That’s a surprise,” she answered, looking away for a second to hide her feelings. “What is it you wish to ask me?”

  Sinclair realised he’d overstepped. “Forgive me for making you uncomfortable. It wasn’t my intent.”

  “Your questions?”

  He sighed. “Truly, Lorena, I meant no harm, but it’s clear I’ve offended you. I pray you’ll forgive me.” She said nothing, and he continued. “Very well. The night Trent abducted my wife, you were in her bedchamber. Is that right?”

  “Yes, but not because I chose to side with William. If the earl relayed our previous conversation, then you already know that.”

  “I do, but I still don’t understand why you followed Anatole’s instructions. Do you trust him so completely?”

  She took a deep breath, her eyes on an snowy white owl near the window. “I suppose I do, yes. The prince warned me that William intended to use me as part of his plot, but assured me that, if I followed his instructions, the duchess would be safe.”

  “Yet, you tried to warn me at the duke’s house on Sunday. Why did you do that, Lorena, if you thought Romanov had it all in hand?”

  “Fear, I suppose. No, that is
n’t right,” she told him, glancing away out of embarrassment. “Not fear, really...”

  “Love,” he suggested, causing her attention to snap towards his face. “I’m right, aren’t I? Your affection for the earl is far greater than your fear of reprisal from either Anatole or Trent.”

  Shock painted her features, but she quickly regained composure. “Love for the earl? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Lorena, it’s obvious to me that you care deeply for Paul. Your behaviour in Scotland may have arisen from obedience to Trent, but I think your emotions were genuine, even then.”

  “You’re mistaken,” she insisted. “Paul is kind, and I enjoy his company, but I do not love him. Someone else does.”

  His brows knit together. “Do you mean my wife?”

  “No. The duchess does love him, of course, but I meant someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “Susanna Morgan.”

  Charles stared at the woman. “Morgan loves no one. She is dead.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that, but it doesn’t change how she felt about the earl when alive.”

  “How can you know that she loved my cousin? Did the two of you speak recently? Do you know who killed her?”

  “Yes, we spoke recently, and I can guess who’s responsible for her death. Susanna detested Clive Urquhart, and she’d begun to look for ways to leave him and begin anew. She and I met the same day you attended the Ripper play at the Lyceum. She’d decided to leave Redwing and wanted me to help. That’s when she admitted to being in love with the earl.”

  “Where did you meet? Was it possible Urquhart had her followed?” he asked, his policeman’s brain whirring.

  “We met at a small hotel near the British Museum. Susanna organised it. She was far brighter than Sir Clive imagined. He thought her nothing more than a harlot who loved gemstones and furs, but the truth of her life couldn’t be more different. Charles, she wanted out. She’d begun to suspect her family had lied about the inner circle.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Redwing members are taught that the circle is selfish and manipulative. After spending time in the earl’s company from time to time, she noticed his kindness. It caused her to reconsider and do some research. As I’d only recently spent time with all of you in Glasgow, she asked my opinion. Whenever she spoke Paul’s name, it was obvious she loved him. I’d like to avenge her death, if possible. If there is anything I can do to destroy Clive Urquhart and the other Redwing members, I’ll do it.”

  “That’s very brave of you,” he observed, wondering if she meant it, or if this line was intended to appeal to his gallantry. “For the present, let’s return to the night Beth was taken. How does the mirror work?”

  “It’s a dangerous device, Charles. You have removed it from this house, I hope?”

  “I’m told it’s in a storage shed near the stable.”

  Her eyes widened. “It’s still on the property? No, you must drop it to the bottom of the Thames, or else bury it! If it is anywhere close to Elizabeth, he’ll find her again!”

  “Trent is dead, Lorena,” the marquess told her. “He can find no one now.”

  “I’m not sure evil like that can ever die, but even if he is dead, another could use it. Raziel, or one of his hellish brothers. Did Susanna tell you that Redwing plans to free an entire cadre of Watchers? Charles, I was once foolish enough to seek power, but I’ve come to my senses. Even if they kill me for it, I cannot allow them to harm you or your family!”

  “The Lord will protect me,” he argued. “And he will protect you as well, Lorena, if you would only allow it.”

  “I’m past redemption, but even if Paul hadn’t discovered me inside Meg Hansen’s brothel, I’d have left there to find you. Only two men have ever treated me with genuine kindness. Prince Anatole and you. Charles, you took the time to speak to me that last night in Scotland, and you made me realise that men needn’t be cruel or selfish. I’ve thought about it a great deal since. It’s why Susanna asked to speak with me that day. I’d sent her a letter about your kindness, about your gentle manner, and how the inner circle’s aim is far different than we’d been told.”

  “Can you explain?”

  “You’ll think me foolish, but I was taught that Redwing is noble and scientific; that they seek to liberate humanity from the yoke of religious oppression through scientific enlightenment. The inner circle, they claim, want to enslave humanity beneath the yoke of a false god and create a world government by placing one of their own on the throne of England.”

  Charles gasped. “That is a patent lie! It is the last thing we want!”

  “I realise that now,” she assured him. “Redwing teaches lies, Charles. They manipulate their members through tricks and promises of power, but they claim it is all for mankind’s good. They convinced me that these occult powers are required to stop the inner circle. They want to control the world. They want to enslave mankind, and they’ll start by controlling England. They intend to crown your son, Charles. It’s why they forced you and the duchess together.”

  “I’m painfully aware of that,” he said. “That night in Scotland. Was it you who poisoned our tea?”

  She nodded. “I’m not proud of it. Trent gave me the powder and told me to add the entire container to the kettle of water. The farm couple were unaware of it. They had nothing to do with Redwing. William had someone paint the group’s symbol on their barn months before.”

  “Months before? How could he know Beth and I would even be in Scotland? She was still in France months earlier.”

  She took a deep breath, Anatole’s words still echoing in her mind. Tell him, Lorena. Tell Sinclair all.

  “Trent had access to a seeing stone. He claimed it showed him what would happen, weeks, even months ahead of time. He foresaw himself and his friends slaying women in Whitechapel.”

  “How? You’re sure William was Ripper?”

  “One of them. Half a dozen or so participated. Shapeshifters like William. The bloodshed had a dual purpose. It provided the energy needed to release the Watcher Saraqael, but it also brought Elizabeth back to England. William even committed several murders close to the château where she lived, hoping it would cause her to panic. The plan worked, and she came straight to you.”

  “Trent knew she loved me?” he asked.

  “Yes, but Elizabeth’s love for you is genuine. Trent had no hand in manipulating that.”

  “I know,” he told her softly. “I have never doubted Beth’s love, nor will I. And the farm couple’s murder?”

  “One of William’s marksmen shot them and set fire to the buildings after you fled with Elizabeth.”

  “Did Trent hire Lemuel? Did he cause a trusted physician to turn traitor?”

  She sighed. “I can’t answer that. You might ask Alexander Collins. He’s the head of Castor Institute. He and Lemuel were friends.”

  “Collins and Lemuel? Yet another reason to speak with him.” He mentally ran down a list of questions, ticking off the answers. “There was a wolf pack that chased our coach. Was Trent involved?”

  “Sir William had the ability to transform into almost any type of creature, but he favoured the wolf. He’d sold his soul long ago, though he told me it was a bargain meant for the world’s good.” She laughed. “I really was a fool, for I believed it all.”

  “He played upon your pain, Lorena. There’s no shame in foolishness, only in willful blindness.”

  “I pray I’ve learnt to see a little now. I can give you more information about Trent, if you wish, but I don’t think he was the leader of the pack that night. I’d thought it was Anatole back then, but I was wrong. The prince isn’t to blame for any of this. His brother, Raziel, is.”

  “Can you elaborate?” he asked, trying to remind himself that he wasn’t interviewing a suspect but a broken woman. “If you kno
w anything, it would be helpful.”

  “Raziel’s been pretending to be his brother for at least a decade, but he fooled me and many others. It took me a long time to realise what was happening. I told Paul that Anatole Romanov provided education and friendship to me at a time when I was at my lowest. He taught me to see the world as hopeful, but after I met William, I began to notice changes in Anatole. He grew morose, manipulative, and he encouraged me to spend time with Trent and the other Redwing members. His personality, if you will, seemed at odds with itself. One day, he would urge me to care for the poor and downtrodden; the next, he derided these same people as parasites feeding upon the blood of their betters. This strange dichotomy only made sense to me after I saw Raziel the night of the Kensington Palace ball. He transformed into a perfect copy of Anatole. Charles, I believe Raziel has been impersonating his brother since 1871.”

  “You know about the Mt. Hermon stone?”

  She looked surprised. “Yes! I’m amazed you know about it. I’ve slowly discerned a little of its history, but you’d need to ask Anatole for clarification. Raziel and Anatole disagreed on a mission they’d been given over five thousand years ago, and Raziel chose to disobey and sin against God. Anatole, who is sometimes called Samael, was ordered to execute Raziel at once. They are brothers, Charles. Can you imagine how you would react if God ordered you to kill the earl?”

  “It would be very hard,” Sinclair admitted.

  “Yes. It would. Samael begged God to allow Raziel to live. The Creator agreed, but as punishment, Samael was ordered to imprison Raziel in a living stone until God chose to release him, near the time of the end. Samael was also ordered to remain on earth until that time, just prior to Christ’s return. I’ve never really believed in a sacrificial Saviour, much less his return, but I’ve begun to wonder if I’ve been wrong.”

  “Raziel is a fallen angel?”

  “He’s what most think of as a fallen angel, but he and Samael—or Anatole, if it’s easier to think of him that way—they call themselves elohim. There are different types of these beings with different jobs, personalities, and abilities. Raziel is a very powerful one, but I think he’s insane.”