‘I am afraid the lady had no choice in the matter, your Majesty.’
‘Everybody seems to be dying around me these days,’ Victoria grieved, reaching for shortbread. She shrugged as she chewed. ‘It was bound to happen soon, was it not? That ghastly woman was ancient, one can only guess.’
Lord Salisbury opened his mouth, ready to deliver the grim particulars of the death, but Victoria interrupted.
‘And that silly Redfern! She has said nothing! The scolding I shall give the nasty old prune.’
Lord Salisbury cleared his throat.
‘I am afraid – Redfern is dead too.’
Victoria looked up at once, her minute pupils dark against wide, bulging eyeballs ; her neck, fat and slack, dangling like that of a turtle.
‘What, both?’
‘I am afraid so.’
The little, almost lipless mouth, peppered with crumbs, began to open.
‘But I wish to talk to Albert,’ she said rather absent-mindedly, like a girl who cannot understand a lesson. As she spoke, her stumpy fingers fidgeted on a golden locket, which Salisbury knew contained a miniature and a lock of hair of the long gone prince.
‘I am afraid, your Majesty, that at present, communing with the late prince will be – impossible.’
And those little eyes began to burn with a wrath Lord Salisbury knew far too well.
‘Impossible?’ she hissed, and then screeched, ‘Impossible?’
And with a swipe of the hand Victoria tossed the little table up in the air. China, silver, tea and cakes darted across the room, crashed against the window and rolled around in deafening racket.
Victoria clasped the arms of her chair and made to stand up, but her royal weight and her cracking knees did not allow. She was fast approaching seventy-one, and almost as wide as she was tall.
‘You do not tell the Queen what is impossible! I must talk to him! I must talk to him now! Fetch me someone! One of the others! Any bloody—!’ The maid stepped in, ready to pick up the mess, but Victoria roared at her. ‘Get out, you stupid cow!’
Lord Salisbury seized the moment to interject.
‘Your Majesty, the witches’ coven has fallen apart. I have not been able to locate any of our previous contacts.’
Victoria pushed out her jaw, her lower teeth bare as she caught her breath. ‘And your son? I know that his wife’s dry womb is finally at work. I know it is the work of witches.’
Lord Salisbury gulped. ‘That – that was arranged before the deaths. Our woman came, delivered her instructions and then vanished. All I know is from her lips.’
‘Tell me.’
Again, the Prime Minister swallowed painfully. ‘Their main hideaway was discovered. The two headwomen were killed. The rest have vanished.’
Victoria lounged back on her seat.
‘Discovered? By whom? Who is responsible for this?’
Lord Salisbury felt a single, cold drop of sweat roll down his temple. This was the detail he feared the most.
‘Two … two inspectors from the Scottish police.’
‘Scottish po—? What were they doing in Lancashire?’
Salisbury recalled Inspector Frey calling it The Lancashire affair in his classified reports. Ian Frey, whom Lord Salisbury had personally appointed – a fact which Victoria must never know.
‘They stumbled upon the witches whilst on the trail of a fugitive,’ he said. ‘Otherwise, they would have never—’
‘And they killed my witches …’ Victoria mumbled, the facts finally creeping into her mind.
‘Yes, your Majesty,’ Lord Salisbury said, and he had to repress a triumphant smile. He could tell where the Queen’s thoughts were going. In her head the blame was drifting towards the inspectors – and away from him. He must act carefully to keep it that way.
Victoria began fiddling with the locket, so harshly she nearly snapped the thick golden chain. Her bulging eyes pooled tears of rage.
‘Then I want their heads …’ she whispered, and gathered breath for a rasping holler.
‘I want them dead!’
About the Author
Oscar de Muriel was born in Mexico City, where he began writing stories aged seven, and later came to the UK to complete a PhD in Chemistry. Whilst working as a translator and playing the violin, the idea for a spooky whodunnit series came to him and ‘Nine-Nails’ McGray was born. Oscar splits his time between the North West of England and Mexico City. The Darker Arts is the fifth book in the Frey & McGray series.
Also by Oscar de Muriel
Strings of Murder
A Fever of the Blood
A Mask of Shadows
Loch of the Dead
Copyright
First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Orion Fiction,
an imprint of The Orion Publishing Group Ltd.,
Carmelite House, 50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
An Hachette UK Company
Copyright © Oscar de Muriel 2019
The moral right of Oscar de Muriel to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN : 978 1 4091 8764 6
www.orionbooks.co.uk
Table of Contents
Dedication
Title Page
Contents
Plan of Edinburgh 1889
1883
1889
Prologue
Part 1 The Crime
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Part 2 The Trial
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Part 3 The Punishments
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Epilogue
Author’s note
Meanwhile, in Windsor …
11 December, 1889
About the Author
Also by Oscar de Muriel
Copyright
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