by C. J. Archer
"We didn't take him." Mrs. Everheart's voice cracked and she dabbed her other eye.
"Alice didn't suggest we did." Her husband patted her hand again, but it was ineffectual in offering comfort. Mrs. Everheart's eyes continued to water.
"Have you received any communication about Alice or her brother?" I asked. "Either recently or in the past? Anything at all?"
Mr. Everheart shook his head then lowered it and slumped back in the sofa. He looked like a beaten man, as if he'd spent his entire life running only to stumble at the end of the race. He blinked dry eyes at Alice. "We'll never see you again, will we?"
"No," she said without hesitation.
Mrs. Everheart sniffed. Her husband passed her his handkerchief and she continued to dab the corner of her eyes.
"That has nothing to do you not being my true parents," Alice said, "and everything to do with how you have treated me since my dreams became real."
"You can hardly blame us for that," Mrs. Everheart said.
Alice rolled her eyes.
"Perhaps it's just as well that we part ways now considering…" Mrs. Everheart waved her hand to encompass the room, the house, and probably me.
Alice stood again and peered down her nose at the people she'd once called Mother and Father. "I think it's time you left."
Mr. Everheart assisted his wife to stand and placed her hand in the crook of his arm. After a hesitation, he gave Alice a nod. "Goodbye," he said simply.
Mrs. Everheart did not offer any parting words, but she did allow a tear to slip down her cheek as she walked out with her husband. I thought the tears meant she was sad to part with her adopted daughter, but her next words banished that notion.
"What will we tell Mr. Crossley?" she said to Mr. Everheart. "Will he insist on compensation?"
I walked them to the front door then rejoined Alice in the parlor. She stood by the fireplace, her arms wrapped around her body. She stared unblinking into the empty grate.
I touched her shoulder. "Are you all right?"
Her chin quivered but she nodded. "I think so. I'm not too shocked, since I have long suspected, but to hear it from their own mouths…it's still unsettling."
"And for them to leave on such poor terms too." I glanced toward the door. "I'm sure they love you but are just frightened of you and your dreams."
She shook her head and returned to staring into the grate. "You're kind to say that, Charlie, but I don't think you're correct. They never quite accepted me as their own."
I hugged her. "I was adopted too, remember. I know my adopted mother loved me. My father, too, before he learned I was a necromancer."
"If he loved you, he would have overlooked that. He would have continued to love you anyway. I'm sorry if that hurts you, Charlie, but that's how I feel about my parents. If they truly loved me, they would help me, not abandon me."
Perhaps she was right. Perhaps Anselm Holloway never did truly love me, but I was quite sure my adopted mother would never have treated me as cruelly as he did. I was blessed in her love. Perhaps it was time to visit her grave again and pay my respects.
"We're your family now, Alice. You'll always have a home here, and people who care about you."
She hugged me back. "Thank you, Charlie. Now, the question is, who are my real parents? And where am I from?"
"According to the rabbit, you're niece to the Queen of Hearts from Wonderland." I drew away and gave her my sternest glare. "And no, you are not going there to learn more about yourself, so put that thought from your mind."
"I already have. I'll stay here."
The unspoken "for now" hung between us like a guillotine blade.
* * *
Lincoln returned in time for dinner so we were able to inform everyone together of the visit from Mr. and Mrs. Everheart. A profound silence followed Alice's pronouncement that she was adopted. No one even chewed.
"Someone say something," Alice said, nervously.
"So the rabbit most likely spoke the truth," Lincoln said. "You were once in Wonderland and the queen is your aunt."
Alice nodded at her plate. "It seems that way."
"Bloody hell," Gus muttered.
"You not be from this world?" Cook asked.
"It seems I am from that other realm," Alice said.
Gus studied her anew then waggled his knife. "If I cut you, will your blood be red?"
"Yes!"
Seth thumped his arm. "Idiot."
Gus blushed and apologized.
To my surprise, Alice laughed. "It's absurd, isn't it? Don't worry, Gus, the same questions that are going through your head have already gone through mine. As far as I am aware, I am physically like all of you. I don't shift shape as Harriet does, and I can't set things on fire like Mr. Langley. I am quite normal."
"Perhaps Wonderland is just like here," Seth said.
"Except for talking rabbits," Gus said pointedly.
"You must want to go with the rabbit now," Lincoln said, focusing on his dinner again. "But I urge you to reconsider. We know nothing about Wonderland, and it seems as though you would be immediately placed on trial if you went. We don't know if their justice system is a fair one or not. I insist you stay here."
"We've already discussed it," I told him. "Alice agrees."
"I'm not leaving," she assured him.
"Good," Seth said. "Because I would have to insist on coming with you and I don't want to miss the wedding."
"Seth!" Lady Vickers cried. "You are not traveling to strange places, so put that from your mind immediately."
He picked up his glass and saluted her. "You traveled to a strange place."
"There are no talking rabbits in America."
We discussed the fortification plans as well as what Lincoln had learned from his informants. Unfortunately, it amounted to very little. Lady Harcourt had visited Swinburn in the evening and stayed the night. This morning, he'd gone to his club. The duke was already inside, as was the MP, Mr. Yallop. They'd emerged separately an hour later. Harriet visited Swinburn in the afternoon and left a short time later. As to the rest of Swinburn's pack, they'd gone to their various places of employment as they usually did, although the Ballantines remained indoors. They rarely left their residence nowadays, preferring to keep a low profile after angering the royal family.
"And Gawler's pack?" I asked. "What are their movements?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary," he said. "They're also spying on Swinburn, but they don't have the numbers to watch the entire pack. They all have jobs to go to. If they don't work, they don't eat."
Lincoln and I volunteered to wash the dishes after dinner. Seth and Lady Vickers assisted us to carry the plates and glasses into the scullery. As we left the others behind, she said to Seth, "She is certainly not a candidate for marriage now. She's not even human."
"Mother," he said on a sigh. "She is human. She's just not from this realm. Anyway, I don't care. If anything, it has only made her more intriguing. She is, after all, related to royalty. Don't you want me to marry a princess?"
His mother stopped in her tracks to gawp at him. We left her behind.
* * *
"I like doing the dishes with you," I told Lincoln when we found ourselves alone in the scullery.
"Why? Because I do this?" He flicked water at me.
"Very mature."
He grinned so I dipped my hand in the water as I leaned in to kiss him. Then I slid my wet hand down his cheek. I pulled away and smiled. "Now we're even."
He looked at the pail of water sitting by the door.
"Don't you dare!" I cried, passing him a stack of dirty dishes to keep his hands occupied.
"So why do you like doing the dishes with me?" he asked.
"We don't get time to talk in private much lately. This forces us to take the time."
"You want to talk to me? About anything in particular?"
"Yes, as it happens."
"Alice?"
"No."
He stopped washing t
he plate and looked at me. "Is this to do with Lady Vickers telling you what to expect on our wedding night?"
"No! It's about what you were doing today. Did you only speak to your informants?"
He resumed washing. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you were gone a long time and you smell nice."
"I don't usually smell nice?"
"Not after returning from the slums then settling the horse in the stables."
"I washed my hands in the stables before coming inside."
Keeping a cake of lavender soap in the stables did not seem like something Lincoln would do and I was about to question him further when Gus entered the scullery brandishing a newspaper. Seth followed close behind.
"This evening's edition of The Star just arrived," Seth said.
"Gawler is named as a suspect in the attacks," Gus added.
I groaned as I read it. "What an irresponsible thing to do! Do you think Yallop and Fullbright will arrest him now?"
Seth shook his head. "They don't have any evidence."
"Spoken like a toff," Gus said. "The police don't care about evidence. If they want to arrest a cove, they'll arrest him."
"And miraculously find the evidence later," I added. Like Gus, I had little faith in our constabulary. I'd seen too many innocent people in the slums get arrested for crimes they hadn’t committed because the police couldn't be bothered to investigate properly.
Seth took the newspaper from Gus and slapped the article. "Swinburn's got a nerve feeding Salter this information. He's putting one of his own kind at risk. It's madness."
"That's Swinburn to a T," I said. "Mad. What will you do now, Lincoln?"
"Check on Gawler," Lincoln said.
"To make sure he hasn't been arrested?"
"To make sure he hasn't gone after Swinburn in retaliation."
* * *
The four of us paid Gawler a visit the following morning but he wasn't at his home in Myring Place. His neighbor told us that he'd angrily stormed off after "a toff lady" visited. Further questioning proved Harriet was the visitor. She'd carried a newspaper under her arm and sported a grim expression, and she had departed separately to Gawler.
We traveled on to Swinburn's townhouse in Queen's Gate, Kensington, where he lived next to Lord and Lady Ballantine. They and the rest of the pack had moved to London from Bristol when Swinburn decided to move his shipping company's operations to the nation's capital. He was the first of his line to win leadership of the pack after Ballantine's ancestors had held it for generations. Seeing their townhouses side-by-side, identical down to their black doors and brass knockers, I wondered how Lord Ballantine felt about losing pack leadership to the grandson of a sailor.
"Gawler's here," Lincoln said as we stood together on the pavement. "I can sense his presence. But not inside."
"He's most likely watching from that alley over there," Seth said with a nod at the gap slicing through the row of grand townhouses. "He'd be a fool to go inside anyway. No wild creature would enter a closed enemy space for fear of being trapped."
"And Swinburn?" Gus asked from the driver's perch of our conveyance. "Can you sense him too, Fitzroy?"
Lincoln shook his head. "I've never been able to sense him. Some I can, some I can't."
"Then lets urge Gawler to go home before he does anything rash," I said, setting off toward the alley.
"He'll simply return tonight," Seth said, falling into step with me. "Perhaps that's a good idea. Let them fight and get it over with."
Tonight would be better than now. There were too many people about. A maid pushed a perambulator and two gentlemen hurried on their way, intent on reaching their destinations quickly. Coaches passed by and a footman stood on a stoop only a few houses down from Swinburn's. Gawler couldn't do anything today except watch. It was far too busy.
Lincoln caught my elbow and jerked me to a stop. "Wait."
Seth stopped too. "What is it?"
Lincoln's head cocked a little to the side and his gaze focused on the entrance to the alley. "Growling."
I listened but heard nothing.
Seth shook his head. "They won't confront each other in their wolf form now. They'd be seen."
The two gentlemen, walking in opposite directions to one another, drew closer to the alley entrance. They would not only see an attack, they would hear it too, and perhaps be in danger themselves.
"Charlie, stay here." Lincoln strode off toward the alley. Seth followed and I followed him.
Then I heard it too. Growling, low and deep. Deeper than a dog's growl. The sound vibrated through me. There was only one growl, not two.
Both gentlemen stopped and turned toward the sound.
Lincoln broke into a run.
"Get away!" Seth shouted at the gentlemen.
Either they didn't hear him or they chose to ignore him. One stepped into the alley while the other squinted into the shadows.
A shot rang out, its echo ricocheting off the walls.
Chapter 10
I pushed past the gentlemen and careened into Seth's arms.
"It's not a pleasant sight," he said in my ear.
I clutched him as my eyes adjusted to the dimness. The first shape I made out was Lincoln's familiar one, standing a few feet ahead. "Why?" he snapped at the figure obscured from my view.
No answer. I let Seth go and joined Lincoln. Behind me, the gentlemen spoke in shocked whispers to one another.
"You saw that," came Swinburn's voice, spoken loudly to carry back to them. He stood just beyond Lincoln, a gun in his hand. It pointed aimlessly at the ground. The furred body of a large wolf-like creature lay at his feet.
"Gawler?" I whispered.
"Is it him?" Seth demanded of Swinburn.
Swinburn looked to Lincoln then to the gentlemen, now approaching cautiously along the alley toward us. "You saw that, sir? And you too?" he asked the men. "You saw that beast attack me?"
"Y-yes," one said, voice shaking. "What is it?"
"A dog," Lincoln said.
"Bloody big dog," said one of the gentlemen. "Pardon my language, miss."
"Swinburn?" Seth said again. "Who is it?"
Swinburn turned back to the body on the ground. He nudged it with his toe then let out a long breath. "I couldn't begin to guess what it is," he said with an emphasis on "what." "I'll leave identification to the experts. All I can say is, thank God I was armed. Thank God I came across it before it attacked someone else."
"A woman and a baby walked past," said one of the gentlemen, glancing over his shoulder. "If it had got to them first…"
Swinburn went to move off but Lincoln grasped his shoulder. "I'm going to send for the police," Swinburn told him. "Everyone must remain here to give witness accounts, of course. Did you see anything Fitzroy?"
Lincoln merely glared at him.
Swinburn shook Lincoln off and strode out of the alley.
Movement in the shadows caught my eye. Something smoky floated in the breeze. But there was no breeze in the narrow alley. The wispy tendrils coalesced into a human shape, that of a naked man. Gawler. My heart sank. He ignored me and followed Swinburn, but only as far as the alley entrance.
"Gawler," I whispered to Lincoln and nodded in the spirit's direction.
The two gentlemen circled the dead animal, inspecting it from all angles. One crouched near its hind legs, but neither went too close to the head.
"Did it attack first?" Lincoln asked them.
One gentleman shrugged. "Sir Ignatius wouldn't have shot it if it hadn't," the other said.
"You know him?" Seth asked.
"We're his neighbors."
"What do you think of him?"
"A fine fellow, keeps to himself."
"He's always friendly," the other man said. "Lucky he was armed."
"Yes," Seth said drily. "How fortunate."
"Not for…" I swallowed down the name. "Not for that dog."
"Ugly beast," one of the gentlemen said. "Look at the size of
its paws. That's no ordinary dog, miss."
"Do you think that's what killed those people in the slum?" the other man asked.
"Must be. Unlikely there are two of these things walking around the city. Someone would have noticed." He poked it in the back with his walking stick. "To think it could have killed someone here, in Kensington."
"If not for Sir Ignatius."
I walked out of the alley, unable to listen to any more, and stood near the hovering spirit of Gawler. I dared not speak to him, lest the witnesses overhear. Gawler took no notice of me. He simply drifted silently back and forth across the alley entrance, his gaze on Swinburn's house.
I wanted to ask him if he'd attacked first, if he'd been intent on killing Swinburn in retaliation for speaking to Salter and the police. But a more burning question bothered me. Had Swinburn lain in wait? If so, who'd warned him that Gawler was on his way?
Harriet?
I felt sick. I leaned a hand against the cool stone of the wall near the alley entrance and concentrated on my breathing.
"Are you all right, Charlie?" Seth asked.
I nodded. "A little shocked."
Voices and movement came from Swinburn's house. A footmen hurried down the street while another knocked on Lord Ballantine's door. Soon, Swinburn returned, bringing Ballantine with him. Ballantine's nostrils flared upon seeing me, but he otherwise ignored me and strode into the alley.
"If you could wait on the street," Lincoln said to the gentlemen. Seth ushered the witnesses out of earshot and Lincoln faced Swinburn. "Who was it?" he asked, even though he already knew.
"Gawler," Swinburn said. "He'd accused me of being a traitor to our kind then he attacked me."
"How did you know he would be here?"
"Sir Ignatius doesn't have to answer your impertinent questions," Ballantine bit off.
Swinburn looked down at Gawler's werewolf body, while Gawler's spirit looked down on him. It shimmered. "You think I planned this?" Swinburn said quietly. "You think me that callous? He came to my house and challenged me. We entered this alley to talk without being disturbed but he didn't talk. He changed shape. I did not. I'd brought a weapon and when he attacked, I used it to defend myself."
