by C. J. Archer
"Liar!" The spirit swooped around Swinburn, circling so fast his head almost caught up to his feet. "What innocent man carries a gun with him around his house?" He did not refute the claim that he attacked first.
"He was unarmed," I said in Gawler's defense.
"Not in wolf form." Ballantine kicked the animal's paws. The claws had retracted in death, but the paws themselves were larger than a man's hand. I'd seen the deep wounds werewolf claws inflicted—as deep as a dagger.
"Will you tell the police who it is?" Lincoln asked.
"Of course," Swinburn said. "They already suspected him, thanks to the article in The Star."
"Which you orchestrated," Seth said.
Gawler's spirit swirled violently around Swinburn then whooshed upward before plunging again. A ghostly finger pointed at Swinburn's face. "You bloody done it! You bloody told 'em I killed those men when it was you!"
"Not me," Swinburn answered Seth. "I haven't spoken to any reporters."
"Ballantine then," Seth said. "Or someone else from your pack, either acting alone or under instruction."
"How dare you!" Ballantine pulled himself up to his full height. He was a large man with grizzly whiskers but for some reason, I didn't feel intimidated. He was all bluster and pomp with no substance. It was no wonder he'd lost the pack leadership.
Swinburn, however, was a different matter. There was a coldness to him, a calculated cunning that made him unpredictable. He played games with people's lives and reputations and gave his opponents no choice but to play along with him.
"I cannot control what others do," Swinburn said. "But I can assure you that I did not authorize anyone to speak to reporters from The Star or any other newspaper. That is not my way. But what's done is done. The secret of our kind is out and we must navigate these new, public, waters as best we can." He looked down at Gawler's body and shook his head. "Fool. It shouldn't have come to this. He shouldn't have attacked me."
Gawler's spirit screamed. He whirled around the alley, dashing from one end to the other, up to the roofline and down again, swooping on Swinburn and Ballantine. They didn't notice and Gawler's frustration mounted. I wanted to urge him to calm down, but I didn't want Swinburn to know he was here. The otherworldly screaming filled my head and hurt my ears. It felt as if the ghost himself were inside my brain.
Lincoln must have sensed my discomfort, even though I felt sure I didn't display any signs. He touched my chin and studied my face, a question in his eyes.
"She looks pale," Seth said. "Charlie? Do you need to sit down?"
Ballantine snorted. "She should be used to death."
The screaming suddenly stopped, leaving a profound silence. I glanced around but could no longer see Gawler's spirit. Perhaps he'd gone, too frustrated to listen to Swinburn any longer. I hoped his afterlife proved to be a better existence for him than this life.
I met Lincoln's gaze and offered a small smile. "I'm all right," I said.
He turned back to Swinburn. "You defeated Gawler. His pack will be yours now."
Therein lay the real reason for the murder. I had no doubts.
"No," Swinburn said. "To take over a pack that I don't belong to, I must defeat the leader when we are both in our other forms. I didn't change. In this situation the pack will elect a new leader in whatever way they see fit. I suspect it will be handed to Lady Gillingham."
"Harriet?" I blurted out. "Why? She's not as strong as others in her pack, surely."
"Particularly in her delicate state," Seth added. "She can't run with them at the moment, let alone fight."
"She is the only natural leader within that pack," Swinburn said.
"The rest are a bloody useless lot," Ballantine added. "Sir Ignatius is right. She'll get the leadership by default. No others will want it, and being a countess makes her the perfect choice."
Swinburn narrowed his gaze ever so slightly at his friend. Ballantine swallowed and looked away. It would seem no matter how far Swinburn rose, or how strong a leader he made, Ballantine would always consider him his inferior.
The arrival of Detective Inspector Fullbright with his constables saw us all ousted from the scene. We gathered on the street where another constable questioned the two gentlemen witnesses. The sun rose high in the sky overhead, brightening the row of white houses so that I had to squint until my eyes adjusted. It promised to be a hot, sticky day in the city.
Several minutes later, constables carried the body on a stretcher and slid it into a waiting cart. It drove away and Fullbright joined us. He spoke with the gentlemen then dismissed them.
A two-wheeled hansom sped up the street and stopped alongside Gus and our carriage, blocking the road. Mr. Yallop, the MP, alighted and strode toward us, patting a handkerchief across his shiny forehead.
"We had a meeting," Mr. Yallop snapped at Detective Inspector Fullbright.
"I was called here unexpectedly," Inspector Fullbright said without glancing up from the constable's notebook he now held in his hand.
"Why wasn't I told about…this?" Mr. Yallop signaled toward the alley. "Your superior informed me when I went looking for you."
"There wasn't time."
"I want a full report."
"And you'll get one."
Mr. Yallop's jaw hardened.
"It was self-defense," Lord Ballantine said. "Sir Ignatius was attacked."
"Sir Ignatius?" Mr. Yallop looked at Swinburn for the first time. He nodded once and gave him a cool smile. "I didn't see you there, sir."
"What are you doing here?" Swinburn asked.
Mr. Yallop puffed out his chest. "I'm the appointed chair for the Home Office's select committee investigation into the Ministry of Curiosities." Was the explanation just for show, or did Swinburn not help Yallop get the position after all? At least they didn't try to hide their acquaintance.
Ballantine smirked at Lincoln. "Is that so? Well, well."
"And you are?" Mr. Yallop asked.
"Lord Ballantine. Sir Ignatius and I are friends."
"Tell me what happened here," Yallop demanded. "I was told the creature was shot and killed."
Inspector Fullbright gave a brisk account of the events as he knew them. No one added to it, and no one stated or implied that Ballantine and Swinburn were also werewolves.
"Good." Mr. Yallop cupped his hands behind his back. "It seems we're now rid of the blasted werewolf creature. An excellent result. Thank you, Sir Ignatius. You'll be a hero when the newspapers get wind of this."
"No names, please," Swinburn said. "I'd like to remain anonymous. My friends don't like it when one of our circle garners publicity, even good publicity."
Mr. Yallop's thick brows wriggled up his forehead. "Your friends, eh? No, I'm sure they don't." Did he already know that Swinburn associated with royalty? Or merely guessed?
"I'd like to hear your version of events, sir," Inspector Fullbright said to Swinburn. "Yours too, Mr. Fitzroy."
"He didn't witness anything," Ballantine growled. "He was too far away."
"And you were in your house," Seth shot back. "So you have nothing of worth to say."
Ballantine opened his mouth, but Inspector Fullbright spoke first. "Thank you, my lordship," he said to Ballantine. "But you won't be needed."
"It's your lordship or my lord." Ballantine gave him a tight smile then strode off in the direction of his house.
"Would you like to step over here and tell us what happened, Sir Ignatius?" Inspector Fullbright said.
"There's no need for privacy," Swinburn said. "I'll tell you what I told Mr. Fitzroy."
He proceeded to tell the detective inspector a number of lies. For one, he made no mention of being a shape-shifter. I didn't expect him to, and we would not divulge his secret, something that he must have guessed. For another, he didn't admit to knowing the victim.
"A man came to my front door and asked for me," Swinburn said. "He introduced himself as Gawler—"
"Gawler!" Mr. Yallop nodded vigorously. "We kne
w it was him, didn't we, Fullbright?"
"What did Mr. Gawler want with you?" Inspector Fullbright asked.
"He spouted all sorts of nonsense, claiming I'm destroying his home," Sir Ignatius said. "I'm involved in the slum clearances in an advisory capacity, you see. The Old Nichol is on the list of areas to be cleaned up. Some residents don't want to go. It seems he decided to take his complaints to me personally."
"Fools," Mr. Yallop spat. "Why do they want to remain in those pig sties? Most of the buildings are only held together by the dirt."
"Because it's their home," I said. "If you clean up the slums, where will they live? They won't be able to afford to rent the new houses."
"They can move further out of the city," Mr. Yallop said. "They ought to be dispersed anyway. Keeping them all together like that only leads to an infestation of crime. Eh, Fullbright? Places like the Old Nichol keep your lot busy."
I closed my hands into fists at my sides. This was not an argument I could win.
"To the matter at hand," Fullbright said to Swinburn. "You say Mr. Gawler came to your home and confronted you."
"Over my involvement in the slum clearances, yes."
"And how did you end up in this alley?"
"I told him to calm down as he was getting agitated," Swinburn said. "He suggested we move into the alley where no one would hear us. I agreed."
Seth grunted. "Because it's wise to go into dark alleys with angry strangers."
"I had my gun on me," Swinburn told him coolly. "I hadn't yet removed my jacket as I'd just walked in the door myself. He must have been waiting for me to return home."
"So you went with him into the alley," Fullbright prompted. "And then?"
"And then…" Swinburn shook his head and shrugged. "He did the oddest thing. He undressed and then he…changed into that creature your men carried off. It was remarkable. A truly amazing transformation. I still cannot believe it."
It was a good performance, and it certainly fooled Mr. Yallop. He hung on Swinburn's every word, his face distorting as he imagined the gruesome sight. Inspector Fullbright offered no such opinion, either in the tone of his voice or his facial expressions. He simply made notes in his book.
"Then he ran at me," Swinburn went on. "It—he—bared his teeth. They were as long and sharp as knives. And the creature was enormous, as you saw. He would have gored me without hesitation if I hadn't shot him."
"Good lord," Mr. Yallop said on a breath. "Your bravery and presence of mind are to be commended."
Swinburn smiled. "Those two gentlemen saw everything," he said. "Mr. Fitzroy and his companions did not, but no doubt they heard the gunshot."
"Do you have anything to add, sir?" Inspector Fullbright asked Lincoln.
"No," Lincoln said.
Fullbright looked to Seth then me. We both shook our heads. To Swinburn, he said, "Do you always carry a loaded gun when you go about your daily affairs?"
"These are dangerous times," Swinburn said. "I've carried a gun ever since the Ripper murders."
"It seems a little extreme."
"I'm not the sort who does things by halves."
"Quite right." Mr. Yallop nodded with enthusiasm and studied Swinburn anew. "No one becomes advisor to the royal family by treading lightly." So he was aware of Swinburn's importance to the palace.
Inspector Fullbright closed his notebook. "Thank you, sir. I'll be in touch if I have more questions."
"We will indeed," Mr. Yallop said. "Although I'm sure there'll be no need to trouble you again. You've told us everything you could. May I applaud you once again, sir. Your actions have saved this city from further chaos and fear. The public can breathe easier now that the murderous creature is dead."
I almost walked off in disgust. I was only glad the spirit of Gawler was no longer around to hear so many lies spewing from Swinburn's mouth. My ears couldn't cope with more screeching.
The detective inspector signaled to his remaining constables that it was time to leave.
"What will happen to Gawler's body?" Lincoln asked him.
"Why?" Mr. Yallop sneered. "Does the ministry want it? I can assure you, you won't be allowed anywhere near it. You are still under investigation—"
"An investigation that may prove the ministry is necessary," Seth cut in.
Mr. Yallop huffed out a humorless laugh.
"Scientists and doctors will want to study it," Inspector Fullbright told Lincoln. "They'll seek to understand these creatures in the hope that will help them develop a way to stop them in the future."
"Quite right," Swinburn said. "It's the only way." He didn't sound worried at all. Why wasn't he concerned about what they may discover about the body? Perhaps he knew they'd discover nothing of importance.
"I'm not convinced Gawler committed the Old Nichol murders," Lincoln said.
Fullbright studied him, his face blank.
"Don't be absurd," Mr. Yallop scoffed. "Of course he did it. You saw that beast!"
"There are others?" Inspector Fullbright asked Lincoln.
Lincoln's gaze locked with the detective's while Swinburn went very still. I didn't dare move, didn't dare glance at him, or anyone. I couldn't decide on the best course of action—let Fullbright know that Swinburn was a shape-changer, or keep his secret?
Somewhere in the distance a dog barked and Mr. Yallop jumped. He tried to hide his nervousness with a cough and stroking his waistcoat at his chest. "If there are, we'll catch them. Now that we know Gawler was one, we'll find the rest. All we need to do is find his associates."
We must warn Harriet. And yet it may have been her that set these events in motion, either accidentally or on purpose.
Inspector Fullbright walked off to his waiting coach. Mr. Yallop watched him leave out of the corner of his eye then stepped close to Lincoln.
"You've got a nerve suggesting it wasn't Gawler," Mr. Yallop hissed. "You ought to be locked up for defending him."
"We look at the evidence," Seth said when Lincoln offered no explanation. "And the evidence doesn't point to Gawler."
Mr. Yallop wrinkled his nose at Seth as if he smelled something foul. "Stop your bleating, Vickers. I asked my colleagues in the House of Lords about you. Laughter followed every mention of your name. If half the stories are true, I wouldn't show my face around London if I were you."
"Luckily I don't have your face. As to your colleagues in the House of Lords, I suspect some of their laughter was nervous. I know as many secrets about them as they do about me. But I'm not a tattler, Mr. Yallop, so don't bother asking me for information."
Mr. Yallop blinked owlishly, clearly unsure of what to make of Seth and his retort. He returned his attention to Lincoln. "I'm warning you, Fitzroy. If you don't hand over the ministry files, you will be arrested for hindering our investigation."
"I already told you, there is nothing to hand over," Lincoln said.
Beside him, Swinburn shifted his weight, catching Mr. Yallop's attention. "I do apologize, Sir Ignatius," Mr. Yallop said. "This discussion is irrelevant to you. Thank you for your time." He turned and strode off to his own conveyance.
"Nicely done, Fitzroy," Swinburn said as he watched Mr. Yallop drive off. "You're willing to risk arrest rather than betray those recorded in your files."
"No thanks to you," I said. "You told your cronies about us and that led to Yallop's committee being formed. You've put many lives in danger, Sir Ignatius. I hope that gives you want you want."
"Why would I do that? My name is in your files, as are those of my friends.'"
That was a good point. And yet I felt sure Swinburn was to blame for bringing the ministry to light, not only as Mr. Salter's source but also as Mr. Yallop's. I didn't believe him to be innocent.
"Your actions mean Gawler's body will be dissected," Seth said. "One of your own. Doesn't that concern you?"
"No," Swinburn said. "They'll discover nothing to help them eliminate us, if that's what you're thinking."
Lincoln held out his hand
to me and I took it. He tucked it into the crook of his arm. "If you are responsible for the Old Nichol murders, Swinburn, I will turn your files over to Fullbright and Yallop. Is that understood?"
"And then what?" Swinburn asked. "He'll arrest me? Hardly."
"I agree. He won't arrest you." Lincoln smiled. "Because I will have already meted out the ministry's justice."
* * *
Seth sat with Gus on the driver's seat as we drove to Mayfair. Considering his foul mood, it was the best place for him. Hopefully the fresh air would blow away his temper. Lincoln spoke little and gave nothing away. As usual, he kept his thoughts to himself unless I prompted him to share.
We both agreed that Swinburn could have provided information to Salter and Yallop anonymously, yet neither of us could think why he'd jeopardize himself and his pack. If Lincoln handed over the archives, his name would be there for all to see.
"Unless he trusts me not to hand them over," Lincoln said.
"That's a lot of faith he's putting in your ability to keep them hidden."
One corner of his mouth flicked up. "You doubt me?"
"Never."
It was midday when we arrived at the Gillinghams' house. Lord Gillingham was out and Harriet invited us into her private sitting room, where she sat with a plate of boiled eggs on her lap. Dressed in a lavender and pink dressing gown with her fair hair cascading down her back, she looked young and fresh, a picture of health.
"Charlie, fetch me that cushion, please," she said. "My back aches." She sucked in a sharp breath as she leaned forward, allowing me to slot the cushion behind her.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
"The baby kicks constantly. He's so vigorous." She smiled and rubbed her belly. "I don't think I have long to go."
We'd decided that I would give her the news, but now that the time had come, I wasn't sure how to deliver it. I glanced at Lincoln and Seth, standing by the door, both of them still looking frustrated over our encounters with Swinburn and Mr. Yallop. Perhaps I was the best choice for delivering news today.
I pulled a chair closer and took her hand. "Harriet, I bring sad tidings. Mr. Gawler is dead."
She dropped the egg she'd been nibbling. It missed the plate and fell to the floor. "Oh," she said heavily. "How did it happen?"
