Realms of Stone

by Sharon K Gilbert

  “The Round Table presents itself as an anarchistic gathering of modernist thinkers with money and titles. You might call it an elitist version of Fabianism, but behind that political face is a heinous and very evil group of men who call themselves Redwing.”

  “Redwing?” Henry asked, finding the suggestion absurd. “They are but a child’s tale!”

  “Hardly. Not unless that child is haunted by them from a very early age, which is precisely what happened to the duchess. Sir William Trent was her stepfather, and he led both the Round Table and London’s Redwing membership until very recently. He also knew your mother.”

  “That is no surprise, Your Highness. As I’m sure you’re aware, the peerage is a closed set. It’s not only likely but almost inevitable that the duchess would know a man who once met my mother.” He thought for a moment, calculating. “This Trent fellow must have been much older than Beth’s mother. Elizabeth looks no more than twenty to me.”

  “Trent was very old, indeed; stretched and altered through magic and demonic rites. He is now deceased, or rather his current material form is. The demon that inhabited that form has passed from host to host for millennia, but is now trapped inside the Stone Realms. It will not be there for long, if the Stone King escapes.”

  Setting aside his glass, the Scotsman’s eyes narrowed. “How can a demon escape from Hell?”

  “I did not say the demon is in Hell. The world is complicated, and there are more realms than you might think.”

  “You’re a vexing chap, Romanov. Do you always speak in riddles?”

  “One of your kinsmen asks me that from time to time. No, I do not always obscure facts, but you’re not ready to hear everything that I know, Doctor. I teach in increments, building up a knowledge base and then layering upon that base. Would you have understood biochemical reactions without first understanding the structures of carbon and hydrogen?”

  “I suppose not. What knowledge base do I lack, then? A belief in fairy tales?”

  “You jest, but that would serve you well,” Romanov answered. “Do you believe in the old tales? Those that speak of mythical beings with the ability to transform from one species to another? Or the stories of spectres and shades that stand unseen within a room, appearing only to those with the ability to see? Fairies are not imaginary, Henry. They exist, only not as the tales portray.”

  “I am a scientist, Your Highness. Yes, I believe my mother saw unusual visions when I was young, but I’m not sure just what those were—despite any painting that may vaguely resemble you. These visions may only have been her mind trying to explain a natural phenomenon.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’ve no idea, but I keep an open mind with regards to truths that science has yet to uncover.”

  The prince began to laugh. “You see your mind as open? I shall let that go unchallenged for the present, Doctor. I assure you, however, that there is much your human science will never uncover. But let us return to the duchess. She is fragile. You can see that, I am sure. Until she recovers, her mind is incapable of processing all the horrors she has seen. Your mother had the same difficulty. For example, she was threatened by the wolf many times. Duchess Elizabeth has also seen this creature. It is not a natural animal, Henry. Are you a man who reads the newspapers?”

  “Sometimes. Do you refer to the hysteria that swept the east last Sunday night? It was nothing more than the unfortunate result of a toxin in the water supply. Mild ergotism caused by mouldy grain.”

  “You do not believe that.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? The police reported that a granary dumped an entire shipment of contaminated rye into a Whitechapel cistern, and it leeched into the piping.”

  “Is that what you really think happened? That hundreds of people all hallucinated the same thing? No, my friend. Occam’s Razor is a concept understood by a man of science. The simplest explanation is most likely to be true, and in this case, the simplest is this: That spiritually altered wolfmen attacked and killed many horses and men near the rail sheds, north of Commercial. I have seen the bodies of those injured or slain. They are not imaginary.”

  “Wolfmen? Surely, a learned man such as yourself cannot buy into this superstitious claptrap!” MacAlpin argued, but his voice carried little conviction.

  “You believe it to be true, Doctor. Admit it. The men these wolves attacked were in pursuit of the duchess’s abductor, Sir William Trent. He used a charmed mirror to enter that gracious lady’s bedchamber at Queen Anne House, and then carried her off through an ancient doorway that connects to a hidden realm.”

  “More fairy tales!” Henry snapped angrily. He longed to leave the room, to escape the torment of this strange man’s uncomfortable revelations, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind told him to remain and listen, for everything the prince had told him was true.

  Romanov showed no hint of irritation. “You think fairy tales are imagined, but they teach truths, though often simplified versions. As I said, Henry, you must learn the foundational aspects of the world before you will understand the depths of the hidden realms. Your mother could see into these other worlds. So can the duchess. And so can you, though you refuse to trust your own eyes. It is why you were able to reach her. Though Elizabeth was held prisoner in a realm far beyond the edge of time, she heard your voice and followed it home.”

  “What are you? Are you a devil? An angel? A ghost?”

  “The answer is complicated, but allow me to simplify it for the present. As I’ve said before, I am not human. I am elohim. That is a very simple way to describe those who live outside Earth’s time constraints. Consider England, if you will. It is a kingdom consisting of many counties. Elohim live within realms that are divided into many domains, as well. The One, that which you call God, reigns supreme over all realms, all worlds, all that exists. He is our Creator and our sovereign Lord. He exists from everlasting to everlasting. The One is not a created being, but he created me and my brothers long before Adam opened his eyes. Consider that your first lesson.”

  Henry could scarcely keep his eyes open, but he wished to learn more. “Are elohim angels, then?”

  “Some are, but the term angel describes a mission not a class of individuals. You’ve slept very little this past week, Henry. Retire and rest. Tomorrow, the world will look much brighter.”

  “You’re right, but I hope to hear more another time. Before I leave you, I should like your permission to inform Beth’s husband that she’s here. It’s clear she relies upon the marquess for strength. I believe her recovery would progress more quickly, if he would write or perhaps even visit her.”

  “I cannot allow that,” Romanov insisted. “She remains in danger.”

  “From whom? Those hellions who held her captive cannot cross into our world, can they?”

  “They already have emissaries in this realm, Doctor. It is their king who might escape. He is far more evil than any other elohim presently in England.”

  The viscount took to his feet. “I shan’t drop the request, sir, but for the moment, I’ll say goodnight. I’ve spent the past week on the duchess’s couch. I wonder, might I avail myself of the bedchamber adjoined to hers?”

  “Of course. Sleep long and late. The duchess will not awaken until late morning. I promise.”

  Henry had no idea just how the prince could make such a promise, but he chose not to challenge it. Instead, he left the opulent parlour and followed the corridor back to the northwest apartment. After making certain that Elizabeth slept soundly and bidding Katrina goodnight, the Scotsman climbed into a soft bed for the first time in seven nights, and in two minutes had fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Twenty

  Haimsbury House – 10:13 pm

  It had been a very long day for Sinclair, and he dreaded retiring to the bedchamber. Without Elizabeth’s smile to greet him, no room seemed friendly. Paul Stuart
, Duke James, Kepelheim, and Michael Emerson remained with him following the circle meeting’s adjournment, and all tried to convince Charles to go to bed, but the marquess kept postponing.

  “I cannot go up there,” he told his uncle. “Not to that room. Not without her.”

  Cornelius Baxter entered the drawing room with a quiet step and bowed. “Is there anything else you require before we shut up for the night, my lords? Mrs. Anderson has already closed most of the kitchen, but I can boil water for tea or fetch a bottle of wine from the cellars. There’s cheese and fruit in the larder, and several meats leftover from supper, if anyone is hungry.”

  The duke answered for his nephews. “We’re set for food, Mr. Baxter, but does the cellar still have that lovely claret the marquess’s father put in?”

  “The Château Lafite? It does, sir. Shall I fetch a bottle?”

  “Charles, does that meet with your approval?” Drummond asked his nephew.

  Sinclair stared into the fire. “Whatever you want, James. Nothing for me.”

  “Son, you have to keep hoping,” he said as Baxter left to fetch the wine. “Lorena said the prince has her in his keeping. That’s encouraging, isn’t it? You’ve said yourself that you doubt Romanov would ever harm her.”

  “No, I don’t believe he would,” Charles answered.

  “Because he loves her,” the earl observed. “Do you think Romanov killed Trent?”

  “Yes, I think he may have. Paul, you told me that Lorena described a battle in the skies that night. How did she put it again?” asked Charles.

  The earl searched his eidetic memory and retrieved the conversation, as though turning to a page in a book. “She said it was two very powerful entities. Possibly Watchers. Then, she ran back into the Empress to seek a place to hide.”

  “Watchers like this Raziel? Is he one?” asked the duke. “And the other. What’s his name again?”

  “Saraqael,” Aubrey replied. “Lorena said Trent’s second mirror is inside the Empress. She mentioned a closet. You and I should search through that house tomorrow, if you’re up to it. Charles, you look worn through. Go to bed.”

  “Sleep eludes me, Cousin. Work is the only thing that helps.” His head throbbed, his body ached, but he dreaded bidding his friends goodnight. “James, this mirror. Is it still in the shed at Queen Anne?”

  “So I’m told. No one has removed it. But there’s no need to worry, Charles. MacPherson blessed it with oil and spoke prayers over it, and I had him place a Bible inside the crate.”

  “Still, I’d like to see it.”

  “Son, it’s past ten o’clock. If you want to see it, we can take a look tomorrow.”

  Charles stood. “I want to see it now.”

  The earl sighed, standing. “Very well. I’ll go with you, if you’re so determined. I’ll ask Baxter to call for a coach.”

  No sooner had the butler’s name formed on Aubrey’s lips, than the gentle giant returned. “Forgive me, my lord, but shall I decant the wine before I bring it up? We’ve three types of wine left from the circle meeting, already decanted. If I decant the Lafite, it will require half an hour if not longer.”

  “Actually, Baxter, the earl and I’ve decided to take a short walk along the grounds, provided it’s not raining.”

  “A walk?” Aubrey echoed. “Charles, it takes fifteen minutes to cross the park. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  “The exercise and night air will do me good.”

  “Or cause a chill,” the duke remarked. Seeing his nephew’s stern face, he threw up his hands. “Fine! If you must go, then bundle up. Baxter, fetch the marquess’s heaviest coat.”

  “At once, Your Grace. I’ll bring Lord Aubrey’s as well.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Stuart told the butler. “It’s not all that cold. Not for me.”

  Baxter made certain the marquess dressed warmly with a wool scarf and leather gloves, and by half past ten, the cousins exited through Haimsbury House’s south doors and commenced the long walk to Queen Anne House.

  “I’ve never been much for overcoats and all that, unless they have another purpose,” Paul explained as they walked. “One doesn’t often have such luxuries when in disguise. I spend half my life as someone else, usually in miserable circumstances. However, I find certain outerwear indispensable. If you ever see me wearing a leather overcoat, you might want to look around you for danger,” he added mysteriously.

  The cool air actually helped to invigorate Charles, and he managed to smile. “I’ll remember that. Truly, Paul, I don’t know how you manage it. When I first met you, I imagined you a pampered peer with nothing to occupy your day but riding, shooting, and attending lavish parties. Yet, each passing week brings new insights into how you’ve actually spent your life. When did you first begin working for the government?”

  “Oh, I suppose I was eleven or so when James first took me with him to North Africa. I learned to ride a camel, eat scorpions and locust—very poor fare, I tell you—and to find water in a desert without a map. We nearly died that year, but he insisted it was the best way to learn survival skills. After that, I accompanied James and my father, now and again, to dozens of exotic locales. The American southwest, the Argentine, India, China, Russia—but my formal service began during the latter part of my second year at Oxford, when the foreign office sent me to Paris.”

  Charles sighed. “How different our lives have been. I was at Cambridge at that time, heading towards a career in mathematics, but I ended up a policeman instead. A good life, I suppose, but I now begin to think it all according to God’s design. You know that verse about all things working for good?”

  “For we know that all things work together for good to them who love God; to them who are called according to His purpose. Romans 8:28. I used to think it meant God could make a silk purse out my sow’s ear, if it served his plans, but I begin to wonder if it isn’t deeper than that.”

  Charles kept his gloved hands inside his pockets, pondering how the earl dealt with the low temperatures. “I believe Beth and I were always meant to be together. If I’d made other choices, how God might have worked those choices towards the same end?”

  “You could drive yourself mad trying to reason it out, Charles. Look, I know I’ve told you that this maze world you and Beth were trapped in was a dream, but I admit to being wrong. You’ve only been part of the inner circle since October, yet your faith in the unseen truths of this world surpasses mine; despite my having grown up with it.”

  Aubrey grew quiet for a moment, and Sinclair allowed him the silence. The one thing he’d learnt about Paul Stuart was that the earl’s silences usually meant his mind was struggling with something. The night breeze blew through Aubrey’s chestnut hair as they walked, and overhead a white owl circled.

  “All the grain kept for the horses must attract mice,” Sinclair said, pointing to the owl. “I’m glad our feathered guardian likes rodents.”

  Aubrey stopped, his eyes on the sky. “I don’t remember ever seeing a white barn owl. Not solid white, anyway. Strange.”

  They walked further, passing the stables, reaching the halfway point to the other house. “Charles, I’d like to talk about Lorena. I hope you didn’t think me presumptuous in bringing her to Queen Anne. I should have asked your permission first.”

  “Not at all. You did the right thing. After what happened to Morgan, I understand your fears for MacKey. I just want to make sure no one in the circle treats her unkindly. We have to be better than Redwing. Abusing women is not allowed.”

  “Thank you,” answered the earl. “She’s a strange one, but I think her more victim than conspirator. Did she tell you that Anatole’s brother impersonates him?”

  “Raziel? Yes, I’m familiar with his abilities. It may have been Raziel who tempted poor Gertrude into betraying her mistress. She was another woman hurt by Redwing’s actions. I pr
ay she’s with God now. Tell me what you think about Serena di Specchio.”

  “The countess? I’m not sure, why?”

  “She danced with me at the ball last Saturday, or I think she did. I believe she caused me to fall into a trance of some kind. If there is an evil woman involved with our enemies, then it’s di Specchio.”

  Paul nodded as they reached the edge of the main gardens. “Di Specchio. Funny, her name’s Italian for looking glass.”

  Charles stopped, staring at his cousin. “Why has no one mentioned that before? Paul, I want to know everything you can uncover about the countess. Her origins, family, associations. Everything.”

  “I’ll have Deniau start on it right away. He’s returned to France to search for information about Beth, but he has men stationed in Venice. Also, we should learn more about Urquhart. He has Parisian contacts that Deniau can track down for us. Shall I go there myself once Beth is found?”

  “No, I prefer you stay here. That is, if Salisbury will allow it; which reminds me, I promised to talk to the prime minister this week. He left me a note when he called last Friday. He and the Home Secretary have some notion of keeping me on with the Yard.”

  Paul laughed. “Not exactly with the Yard, but a new branch that oversees parts of it. Salisbury asked my opinion when he was here, and I think it’s brilliant. He and Matthews received permission to create a new commissioner position that reports directly to the Home Office and sits on the cabinet.”

  “A new commissioner? How can a new commissioner be part of Scotland Yard? It has but one with that title.”