TWO
Kelan and Greyston were ensconced in the library.
Greyston, with his unruly brown hair curling into his nape and those warm, brown eyes lifting to meet her gaze as she stepped inside. He’d made himself comfortable in an armchair, one leg squared over the other, a glass of whiskey cradled in his hand. A grin tucked up one half of his mouth as he raised his glass at her in greeting.
She acknowledged with a small smile. There’d been a time when that roguish grin would have melted both her senses and her wit, but that time was gone.
He’d stood by and watched while she’d wed Kelan.
Lily did not consider herself the slightest bit experienced in matters of the heart, but she was not a complete dunce. No matter the underscoring reasons, no matter that the marriage was fake, no man would hand the woman he loved into the hands of another. Of that she was sure.
Speaking of the man she’d been handed to, Lily’s gaze washed across the room and collided with the navy blue depths of Kelan McAllister’s. His palms pressed to the top of the desk he stood behind, his black hair sheathed in long layers over the ruthless angles of his face, the impact of his raw, potent power scraped along her veins.
It wasn’t desire, although the Lord knew she wasn’t immune. She’d given up denying that after their sensual Waltz at Devon’s Alternate War Office annual ball a few evenings ago.
It wasn’t fear either. Kelan was the one who’d taught her to measure the atrocities in life by that which would and would not kill her, and she was far too valuable to be disposed of. She was, after all, the McAllister demon sniffer.
Perhaps it was the razor-sharp edge of self-preservation, ensuring her vigilance against both his charms and the more lethal aspects of his nature.
“Kelan,” she greeted brightly, walking up to him. “We weren’t expecting you home today. You didn’t even send word for Brinn to meet you at the station.”
“No doubt Brinn will recover from his disappointment.” Kelan cocked his head, appraising her. “Hello, Lily.”
“Kelan was about to divulge what sent him rushing home,” drawled Greyston.
“The news from Clitheroe is both good and bad,” Kelan said.
“What a coincidence,” she blurted. “I, too, have good news and bad. Which would you like to hear first?”
He shot Greyston a sharp look, then brought it back on her.
She took in the day’s growth of beard that shadowed his jaw, the strain tugging at the corner of his eyes, and felt the strangest urge to reach across the table and…do what? Kelan was not a man to invoke tenderness.
Curling her hands safely at her sides, she quickly informed him about the current state of household affairs.
“Unavoidable, given the circumstances.” Kelan gave an unaffected shrug. “I’m sure you and Hamilton have everything under control.”
Lily nodded, smiling. This is going to be easier than I thought. Then she realised the error in her judgement and her smile slipped. Of course Kelan wouldn’t care about domestic affairs. Demons, on the other hand…
“That is good news,” Greyston stated. “About Neco and Ana,” he clarified at the frown Lily turned on him. “Not the mass exodus of staff, although it’s not much of a loss, is it? If the silly woman couldn’t appreciate—”
“That was the bad news,” Lily said swiftly, before he black-mouthed the entire staff. “The good news is…” She squeezed out an ‘isn’t this so exciting?’ expression as she looked from one to the other “…Ana and I banished Timothkin last night.”
“Impossible.” Greyston’s grin kicked higher. “Last night, you retired early with a megrim.”
“And then we slipped downstairs and let ourselves out through the scullery door, into the yard around the back. I used the demon glass to hunt—”
“You did what?” Greyston jumped up, liquid spilling from his glass as he did so. “Did Timothkin attack you? What were you doing out in the middle of the night? Alone!” He slammed the glass on the table beside him. “Dammit, Lily, how am I supposed to keep you safe when you sneak around behind my back?”
Kelan just stood there, condemning her with a silent stare that stabbed at her nerves like shards of ice.
She retreated, edging in the direction of Greyston and his heated tirade.
“I wasn’t sneaking around— Fine, maybe I was, but I wasn’t alone. Ana was marvellous and, in fact, I don’t mind saying that if it weren’t for her, I’d be…” She faltered as the colour bled from Greyston’s face. Perhaps he didn’t need to know about her close brush with death. She borrowed her aunt’s favourite saying, tailoring it with her own twist. “All’s well that ends with one less demon topside?”
“This isn’t a bloody parlour game.” He reached her in two strides. His hands landed on her shoulders, the restraint—to do what? Shake the last silly notion from her head?—seething through his grip.
She braced herself with a healthy dose of irritation, tilting her head all the way back to meet his gaze…a muddy storm of anger and worry. Her ire collapsed. “I’m here. I’m fine.”
“And if you weren’t?”
“It wouldn’t be your fault.”
His grip on her shoulders tightened. “You think that’s what scares me? Taking the blame?”
She searched his eyes, but she’d never been any good at reading Greyston. In all honesty, she had no idea what truly scared him, but she did know that she was more to him than some mere responsibility.
And as for herself… He was so much more than the man who’d kissed her, warmed her heart, and then rejected her.
“Greyston, I’m so sorry.” She shrugged out of his grasp so she could reach up to cup his chin. “I should have given you more consideration. You might have tried your utmost to dissuade me, but you would never have let me go after Timothkin without you.”
“I wouldn’t have let you go after Timothkin, period,” he murmured.
Which rather spoiled the moment.
“Assuming you had any say in the matter,” she said flippantly, spinning away from him.
When her eyes connected with Kelan’s unwavering stare, she quickly turned back to Greyston.
He shoved a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Well, then, how did you do it? From afar, I hope?” Some of the colour returned to his face. “Were you able to banish it through your demon glass?”
“Of course not.” But a quiver of excitement thread her pulse. She glanced over her shoulder to Kelan. “Would that be possible?”
Kelan’s fingers scraped into white-knuckled fists on the desk. The wrath of God seemed to have settled into every shadowed valley on his face.
She decided to take that as a ‘No’ and looked to Greyston again. “I did use the demon glass, though, to determine Timothkin’s nightly routine. It walked the same path every night, along the Thames, a stretch close to the river mouth, actually, where I knew the sea water content would be high enough to banish it.”
She went on to tell Greyston everything, how Timothkin had evaded the rune she’d drawn in the ground, how it had whipped Ana off her feet with that bolt of fire, of how she’d fled the demon by jumping in the Thames. When she got to the part about the fire snake, that towering inferno slithering above while she’d struggled in the water, the cavernous furnace of flaming fangs and pronged fire tongue that had so nearly swallowed her, she skimmed over some of the detail.
Greyston needed to know the magnitude of Timothkin’s power. What demons were capable of. He did not need to know she’d come so close to the face of death, it had singed her eyebrows.
Before she was completely done, Kelan broke his silent embargo. “Come here.”
The brittle command involuntarily jerked her around. “That’s not necessary,” she hedged. “I can hear you perfectly clear from here.”
“Lily, come here.” Each word dragged through a clenched jaw. “Now.”
A pair of hands came around her waist. “Don’t let him intimidate you,” Gre
yston spoke near her ear. Louder, he said, “If you wish to bark orders, you should get yourself a dog.”
“I have several wolfhounds.” Kelan’s gaze slid down to where Greyston’s hands were positioned and stuck. “All of which are obedient without any need to bark orders.”
“Did you…?” Lily’s blood heated over. She surged forward, leaving Greyston’s hands and support to fall away behind her. “Did you just compare me to your dogs?”
Kelan didn’t answer, simply watched her approach with the dedicated silence of a hawk tracking its prey.
Undeterred, she planted her palms on the desk and looked him in the eye. “And I’m fine, thank you for asking. Ana and I came away from facing down a demon quite unscathed.”
“So I see.” His hand shot out.
Lily shrank back, but he’d only tossed a photograph onto the desk in front of her. A black and white portrait photograph of a beautiful young woman, arranged on a sofa with three children.
“The Winterberry demon?” Lily gasped, her indignation forgotten.
More correctly, Agares, one of the Kings of Hell. Agares had taken on the form of an elegant young lady and married Mr. Winterberry, the founding owner of Precision Steam Works.
By the time Lily had sniffed out the demon, it had turned the Winterberry house into a frozen tomb of death. None had survived, including the human form Eliza Winterberry had inhabited. Agares was still out there, somewhere, invisible to Lily now, even though she’d previously seen it through her demon glass vision.
According to Kelan, the demon would have been able to take on another form once its current human shell perished. Armand, Kelan’s faithful man-of-all-sorts, was still up in Glasgow, investigating why Agares had ingratiated itself so closely to Winterberry.
“Pray God, tell me a demon cannot actually mother a child,” Greyston said as he joined them around the desk.
Kelan glanced at him. “The photograph was taken two years ago. Agares, known as Miss Blyde at the time, was the newly appointed governess for the Clathornes, the family who owned the Clitheroe glassworks factory that burned to the ground. The fire occurred on a Sunday when the factory was shut down for routine maintenance. The same Sunday the governess recommended the Clathornes give their children a tour of their father’s business.”
“I don’t suppose that’s a coincidence,” Greyston said.
“You suppose correctly.” Born and bred in Florence, Kelan McAllister had more elegance and grace in his small finger than an entire clan of Scotsmen. The grit underlining his refined voice, however, was a stark reminder of the predator inside the man. “With the factory and their sole benefactor gone, Agares cleared the path for Timothkin to ride in and save the town, putting the unemployed to work, rebuilding the factory…getting elected as Clitheroe’s parliamentary representative.”
“Agares set everything in motion to ensure Timothkin’s position in the House of Commons?” Lily said with slow-blossoming dread.
Kelan folded his arm, his hard-boiled gaze resting on her. “And then Agares moved north to court and marry Mr. Winterberry.”
“But why?” said Greyston. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Isn’t that what demons excel at?” Lily offered hopefully. “Random acts of chaos to raise sheer hell.”
“I’ve suspected for a while that Agares is orchestrating a grander plan,” Kelan said. “Summoning Saloese in Glasgow, now Timothkin in Clitheroe. Winterberry. Parliament. The Queen. What in damnation is Agares hoping to achieve?” His arctic gaze bore into Lily. “That’s an answer I intended to rip out of Timothkin.”
“Now wait a minute.” Greyston placed a comforting hand on Lily’s arm. “If you’d bothered to share your suspicions, Lily would have understood the impact of banishing Timothkin. If anyone’s at fault—”
“Agares is the head of a giant parasite,” Kelan cut in, his voice deadly quiet. “Summoning lesser demons through the tear, followers to be its tentacles, leeching onto anyone or anything that will help reach its goal.” He gathered some loose pages and the photograph into the leather satchel as he spoke. “My suspicions are irrelevant and your protests are pathetic.”
Satchel in hand, Kelan rounded the desk, towering over her with that wrath-of-the-angels glare only long enough to issue, “Your actions are inexcusable,” before he walked on, out of the room.
Lily swallowed hard. “That went rather well, wouldn’t you say?”
“The man’s an arrogant bastard,” Greyston muttered.
“But is he right?”
Greyston turned to face her. “The McAllisters play like the world’s a fiddle and they’re the damned hand of God, and they know only one tune.”
“Eradicating demons.”
“To the cost of all else, including sacrificing innocent lives,” Greyston said grimly. “Never judge yourself by their standards, Lily.”
Some of her earlier confidence returned, along with her indignation.
“I will not meekly follow orders like his dogs and that’s what Kelan’s most irked about, I’ll wager. If Agares truly is this giant demon parasite, then Timothkin won’t be the only tentacle we can squeeze for information and Kelan’s well aware of it!”
Lily tossed her head, irritated with herself most of all. How could she allow Kelan, of all people, to riddle her with doubt? She couldn’t tolerate Timothkin walking the streets, brushing shoulders with uninformed bystanders, unknowingly vulnerable to a demon’s whim. Even if Timothkin was their only source, risking a few lives for a noble cause was the McAllister way, not hers, not even as a last resort and they weren’t there yet. The world was still standing, last time she’d checked, and she still had her demon glass to search for new demon threats.
THREE
The remainder of Lily’s day was taken up with rearranging the household chores and stepping in as need be. She considered appealing to Aunt Beatrice and Evelyn on the matter of the staff vacancies, but her blood was too fired from Kelan’s handling. How dare he call her actions inexcusable? He hadn’t even questioned her reasons. Well, she was perfectly competent in making decisions, acting upon them and diffusing any adverse consequences. Without any loss of limb or life.
Kelan McAllister could—could—well, he could simply go to hell for all she cared!
And she was in a mood to tell him so when they sat down to an early supper at seven. Not so much in words as in a display of intention. She’d set the table in the formal dining room herself, placing Kelan and herself at opposite heads with the length of four empty chairs between them.
Greyston took one look at the arrangement, then promptly ignored his appointed chair down the middle and took the seat beside her.
Mr. Hamilton rushed forward to move the place setting. The butler had insisted on serving the meal himself, since the only two footmen who hadn’t scampered were also barely trained. “It’s either me or the parlour maid,” he’d informed Lily earlier with that disapproving manner he’d reserved for her since the incident.
Kelan seemed content where he was, sipping on his wine between bites of smoked salmon with no apparent interest in the conversation she struck up with Greyston.
In truth, dinner progressed with polite civility, until the main course arrived, that is. Lily chewed on the piece of meat she’d put in her mouth, and chewed and chewed, but it wasn’t going down. The lamb casserole had the taste and constitution of boiled leather. Finally, she had no choice but to delicately remove the meat with her fingers.
Greyston was less eloquent. He spat his mouthful out into a napkin and grabbed his glass of wine. “Good God, how old was that donkey before it landed in the pot?”
Kelan set his knife and fork down and pushed his plate aside. “Hamilton, I’m aware of your staff challenge, but this is inedible.”
“Begging your pardon, m’lord.” Mr. Hamilton said stiffly, his face flaming as he removed the plate.
“It’s not Mr. Hamilton’s fault,” Lily said quickly. “It’s mine.”
> Kelan turned to her. “You approved this menu?”
“I cooked it,” she told him. She’d had help, naturally, but she didn’t think it fair to bring anyone else into this mess.
Their gazes locked across the table, the silence stretching, his formidable presence dominating the room until Mr. Hamilton coughed and murmured something about seeing what he could do to rectify the situation.
Once they were alone, Kelan said, “When you were so insistent on leaving Cragloden for London, I assumed it was to rid the city of demons, not to improve your domestic skills.”
The length of the table wasn’t nearly sufficient to dilute the impact of his scornful tone.
“Oh?” She arched a brow at him. “So now I have your permission to banish demons?”
“You have my permission to search for demons.” Kelan stood, using his impressive height to stare her down. “But since you’re determined to ignore my wishes and forge ahead regardless, perhaps your time might be better spent in acquiring the physical and mental wherewithal to do so. That way, at least some of us may be spared the wrath of your dubious skills.”
Lily’s mouth went slack. Although she wasn’t sure why she was so surprised. This was the true Kelan McAllister, the man who’d tricked her into revealing Greyston’s time shifting ability, the man who’d forced his kisses on her in the name of stripping back her defences against the demon glass. The Kelan who’d promised her a marriage of amiable convenience, who’d doted on her at the ball, who’d danced the night away in her arms, was the farce.
She drew in a deep breath, sucking in the burst of outrage threatening to spew. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Kelan inclined his head at her in an act of cool politeness.
Was he mocking her?
But, no, he was merely leaving.
“Be so kind as to inform Hamilton I’ll be dining at my club until a new cook has been instated,” he said on his was out.
Lily shoved her plate aside and folded her arms on the table. “I didn’t ruin the meal on purpose!”
The Dark Matters Quartet Page 47
