Brass Carriages and Glass Hearts

by Nancy Campbell Allen

  He nodded, but the movement hurt his head. “I will tell Chief-Inspector Conley that you both performed your duties admirably, but I must be on my way. Have either of you seen a small man named Gustavsen?”

  They shook their heads, and his heart sank. He looked at his pocket watch and swallowed in grief and disappointment. The time was at hand, and unless Gus had managed a miracle, they had lost.

  He pushed himself to his feet and noted his bloodied, filthy shirtsleeves and vest. He located his suit coat at the foot of the cot and shook it, failing to brush away most of the dirt, and shrugged into it anyway. He bent his head and exited the tent, standing still for a moment while the world spun.

  The outer courtyard was still a hub of activity, wet but not under a deluge of rain, and he walked across it numbly, moving because he didn’t know what else to do. He must find Gus, and if Emme wasn’t with him, Oliver would turn the city inside out until he found her. He needed to think, but his brain was a tangled mess. He felt nauseated and quickly moved to the base of a tree where he lost whatever was in his stomach. He heard a woman squeal, and a man’s chastising tsk about knowing when one more drink was too many.

  Wiping his mouth with his handkerchief, he focused on doing nothing except slowly inhaling and exhaling. A young man who was manning a food stand approached with some water and held it to Oliver at arm’s length. Oliver accepted it gratefully, rinsed his mouth, and then took a long drink.

  He straightened and stretched muscles that screamed with the aftereffects of vampire venom. He’d been injected twice in the last forty-eight hours, and he knew enough to be grateful he was still alive. He slowly made his way toward the castle, thinking to wait there for Gus. If he didn’t show soon, Oliver hoped he would return to their hotel room.

  A murmur swept through the crowd at the base of the castle, and Oliver looked up. He was unable to see much from where he stood, but then chatter and exclamations of surprise sounded from above, and he thought he heard Giancarlo’s exuberant voice. He didn’t know how the man could even manufacture joy when Emme was missing.

  He massaged the back of his neck and stopped at a large fountain, dipping his hands in the cold water and then scrubbing his face and hair. He couldn’t fault Carlo for maintaining his professionalism. The man had a job to do whether Emme was there or not. This thing was bigger than any one person. Even if that one person was the one who meant the world to Oliver.

  He moved to the base of the stairs, irrationally angry at the happy people all around him. He leaned a shoulder against the cold stone, reflecting on the structure that had seen a thousand years of human drama and would likely see a thousand more. He rubbed his eyes and sighed, resting his head against the rock.

  His gaze fell on an object halfway up the staircase. He narrowed his focus and realized it was a shoe. Someone had lost a shoe unaware? Who would do that in such cold temperatures, on wet ground, and not notice it missing? Another shout came from above, followed by laughter and scattered applause.

  He began climbing the stairs, only to be stopped by a pair of security guards. He fumbled impatiently in his pocket for his identification before flashing it at the men, who nodded at him.

  He continued climbing, reached the shoe, and picked it up. It was delicate, stylish, and small. Just the right size . . . and it was for a left foot . . .

  Calling himself a million times a fool for raising his hopes, he climbed the rest of the stairs increasing in speed until he was running and dizzy by the time he reached the top. Security guards at the upper courtyard entrance attempted to bar his way, but he stared daggers at them, and fortunately, one guard recognized him.

  “Sir,” he said, nodding, and allowed him to pass.

  He crept forward, moving toward the wall to avoid the crush of the crowd, and heard someone speaking.

  “. . . I represent the International Shifter Rights Organi­zation . . .”

  A buzzing sounded in Oliver’s ear until he felt faint, and the closer he moved to the arched entrance, the farther away it seemed. He finally reached it and, hugging the wall, peered inside.

  She was alive, and whole, and speaking. She was a vision of loveliness that stole the breath from his lungs, and his knees buckled. He clutched the shoe in his hand as he leaned against the wall for support. After a moment, he quietly skirted around the entrance and crept to the shadows in the back.

  Emme.

  Her image blurred through his tears, the ice-blue of her dress glowing, and he blinked, bringing into focus her black hair, beautifully accented with a tiny band of jewels that twinkled with movement.

  His heart turned over when he realized the smudges along her collarbone, her jaw, and her forehead were bruises. She smoothly lifted her hands to emphasize a point, and he noted long scratches and bruising around one wrist. What on earth had she been through?

  She wove a spell in the courtyard that seemed to isolate it from the world, filling it with words that carried with them her sense of love and justice for those she represented. An energy threaded from person to person, spreading a shared sense of grief and outrage at the personal examples she shared. She discounted the crimes erroneously attributed to the shifter community by the Committee, and by her and Oliver’s individual families.

  She held the assembly riveted, spellbound, and while he’d experienced pieces of that enthrallment over the past several days with her, to hear her present a cohesive, protracted yet concise argument for a cause that affected real lives was unimaginably powerful. He understood her power, the reason her enemies feared her. Her compassion and sense of justice were formidable, and because she possessed a gift that allowed her to share it with hundreds at one time, she was truly a force.

  So much love in a tiny frame. He watched as she delivered a powerful appeal for an affirmative vote. Her eyes swept those gathered, and she made eye contact with each one. When her gaze finally fell upon him, he could see that her breath caught. He smiled and put his hand on his heart, his vision blurring behind tears. She smiled back, and he heard a few audible sighs as she finished her speech with respect and gratitude for those gathered. She inclined her head and stepped back from the podium.

  Applause was instantaneous, with those assembled coming to their feet. She seemed stunned and put her hand to her midsection. Giancarlo joined her at the podium, as did the Summit president, who thanked her profusely and presented her with a huge bouquet of irises and lilies.

  Oliver glanced to the side, gratified to see their friends gathered, all except Miles, and realized they must have entered just before he had. He hadn’t seen them because he’d only had eyes for Emme.

  He released a deep breath as the crowd settled, and a member of the international body announced that they would vote immediately, which was met with another round of applause. Once the excitement settled, the dignitaries seated at the front of the courtyard began a roll-call vote. There were twelve representatives, and each one voted in the affirmative, pledging that their countries would protect the rights of shifters within their borders and continue to work for the betterment of all beings worldwide.

  The applause was deafening, and Oliver leaned against the wall for support, clutching one small, fancy shoe. Emme stood close to Carlo, who was propping her up, and her tears flowed unchecked, along with her laughter. She had done it. Against all odds, she had delivered her heart and bright mind to the world, and they would all be better for it. Suddenly all of the protests, rallies, unrest, and disruption that had marked his early association with the woman took on a beautifully sentimental hue.

  He loved her more than life. He would endure every last battle with her for an eternity if it meant staying by her side.

  Word spread like wildfire down the castle stairs and into the lower courtyard and then into streets beyond. Cheers could be heard for miles, and as the clock struck midnight and the dignitaries signed their names to a ceremonial document
with large, plumed pens, fireworks exploded in the sky. The moment was magical, a miracle, and as people moved and embraced and laughed and cried, he caught glimpses of Emme. She looked so incredibly small, and her bruises attested to treatment at Lysette’s hands he did not want to contemplate just yet, but she stood straight, hands occasionally clenching against pain, and he realized she was probably the strongest person he knew.

  She moved into the crowd and was swarmed by her sobbing mother, friends, and several foreign visitors who awaited an introduction. He smiled. He was weary and sore from head to toe, but as he watched Emmeline, he’d never been happier.

  Gus joined him, smiling ear to ear.

  Oliver put a grateful arm around the man’s shoulders and thanked him profusely. “We could not have done this without you. We all owe this success to you.”

  Gus shrugged, modest to the core. “We have all played a vital part in this week’s success. I am honored to have helped.”

  “You should know, my Chief-Inspector may offer you a job. I hope you would consider it.”

  Gus chuckled, his eyes lighting up behind his round spectacles. “I will. I have work to do here first, though. There are people living in the underground who are ready to leave the shadows. I imagine the Cadre’s supply of Vampirical Aid will make plenty of options available for those who choose it. We will all be held to the same code of law, and perhaps some of this darkness will pass away.”

  Oliver nodded and clapped him on the back. “Again, friend, thank you.”

  “I should think you’ve every right to swoop into the fray and take her away.” Gus nodded to Emmeline with a twinkle of pride in his eye.

  Oliver smiled. “I can wait. This is one time I shouldn’t pull her out of the crowd.”

  Emme said something to Isla, who nodded and looked around. Isla spied Oliver and Gus and then whispered back to Emme, whose head whipped up. She followed Isla’s pointing hand and locked eyes with Oliver. With a quick murmur to Isla, she shoved a pen and some paper in her cousin’s hands and limped her way through the crowd to Oliver.

  He met her at the edge of the throng and pulled her gently into his arms, clasping her to him and spinning her slowly in a circle. Her arms squeezed tightly around his neck, and he heard her breath catch.

  “Oliver. I love you.” She lifted her head, and he still held her close at eye level. “I love you.” Her tears fell freely. “I thought you were dead. And then I thought I was dead. And all I could think was that you had died not knowing I love you. I never said it, and I am so sorry.” She held his face in her hands and kissed him through her tears, heedless of the crowd around them. Her actions drew a few whistles and cheers, and she laughed and kissed him again.

  “I have a confession,” he told her. “I knew you loved me. In fact, I believe you have loved me for months. Long before I became your bodyguard.”

  She rubbed her nose against his. “Hmm. I will admit to finding you moderately attractive, even when you were my worst enemy. Of course, I told myself you were hideous, but there are some things one eventually cannot deny.”

  He smiled. “I have another confession.”

  She raised one brow. “Oh?”

  “Yes. The very first moment I saw you, refusing to exit a PSRC carriage, I thought you were the most stunning woman I had ever seen.”

  “Truly? I find that highly unlikely.”

  “No, it is a fact. Prettiest by far. And then the loudest.” He grinned as she put her hands in his hair and lightly pulled.

  As the revelry continued around them, he walked a short distance to a bench near the archway and set her down gently, then sat next to her.

  “I swore that when I found you, I would never let you go again. So I don’t care that we aren’t in a quiet spot, all alone and romantic.” He wrapped his arms around her, and she put hers around his neck.

  “Oh!” She straightened and unfastened a glass heart pin attached to her bodice. “I entrust to you, Detective-Inspector, my heart.” Her eyes filmed again, and she laughed, tipping her head as though feeling self-conscious. Her lip trembled, and she bit it impatiently, a light frown creasing her brow. “My own heart of glass, gifted from our dear friend, and now from me to you. I’ve never been anything but transparent with you, Oliver, and I hope you see in my heart the admiration and adoration I hold there for you.” She paused and sniffled, then whispered, “This heart is quite fragile, you see, and I want you to realize how incredibly vulnerable I feel in handing you possession of it. But truly,” she continued, her voice unsteady, “I believe it was only ever meant to be yours.” She gently fastened the pin to his dusty, tattered lapel.

  He clasped her hand and pressed it gently to the spun-glass heart, which rested against his chest. “And you must know by now that I am meant to be yours—mind, body, and soul. It has only ever been you, Emmeline.” He thumbed away a tear from her cheek. “It is fitting,” he continued, “that I ask you this in a crowd full of people celebrating the advancement of shifter rights, considering we first met at a similar event.”

  She tipped her head, a smile glinting in her eyes. “Oh? And what are you going to ask me? Here in this crowd of people.”

  “Emmeline, will you marry me?” He cleared his throat past the lump that had suddenly formed.

  “Absolutely, I will.” Her eyes were soft and bright. “I love you. I will love you forever.”

  “Then marry me tonight.”

  She blinked. “Tonight?”

  “Now.”

  “Now?” She paused, eyes wide. “Right now?”

  “We almost died today. Multiple times. In fact, over the last several days, we have repeatedly faced death. If this trend continues, we’ll be gone by morning, and I want at least a few hours as your husband.”

  “Do not even tempt fate!” She frowned. “You do have a point, though. But we cannot just get married on the spot.”

  “Certainly, we can. We’ll go to Gretna Green; it’s not far at all. Or, we are surrounded by dignitaries and more than a few heads of state, all of whom are enamored of you and would likely be delighted to perform the ceremony.” He paused, aware of the role reversal. He was rarely, if ever, impetuous. “If you would rather a more formal engagement, I will impatiently wait until we return home.”

  She laughed. “When have I ever been enamored of formality? My friends and family are already here, but the only one I care to have in attendance is you.” She looked at him, stilled, and took a quiet breath. She released it slowly and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his lips. “Lysette told me you were dead. I was so afraid. I think I shall be afraid of the dark forever.”

  He’d wondered how long it would be before she would tell him what had happened after Lysette took her from the lodge. They hadn’t had a chance to talk, and while he prided himself on being a patient, rational sort, he wanted to wring Lysette’s neck with his bare hands. “Shall we go somewhere quiet? You can tell me what happened.”

  She shook her head with a sigh. “We’ve time enough for that, I suppose. And if nothing else, I’ve discovered who wrote the Bad Letter.”

  “Lysette.”

  “You knew?”

  “Lawrence told me. We might have guessed. Conley has her in custody—she has much to answer for. She and Sir Ronald will be transferred to jail cells in London soon.” He paused. “You may be called upon to testify.”

  Her lips firmed. “I will do it gladly. Oliver, the things they have done . . .”

  He nodded. “They will pay.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “Have you heard from Madeline?”

  He shook his head, and she bit her lip.

  A trio of teenaged boys scrambled past, bumping into them, and Emme sucked in her breath. “Stupid foot,” she muttered. She lifted her hem and showed him her bare feet.

  He pulled her shoe from his coat pocket. “I found this one.”<
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  She laughed softly and took it from him. “It may be some time before it fits. I am afraid I will require new bandaging. The manacle ruined my cast.”

  “Manacle?” He closed his eyes and cupped her head, kissing her forehead. “I really am going to kill her.”

  She pulled back and scowled. “I am going to become equally violent if you persist on kissing my forehead. Or pat my hand.”

  “It is because I am feeling tender,” he said, surprised.

  “That is all well and good, but a kiss on the forehead falls short of the mark. Or, rather, misses the mark.”

  The corner of his mouth ticked upward. “I thought we had determined you are not an exhibitionist.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ve already kissed you several times in the last few minutes. I suppose one of us must be the forward-thinker. We are at the dawn of a new age, after all, and—”

  He cupped her head again, this time bringing her lips to his in a kiss that lasted long enough to draw the attention of the crowd, who again applauded and laughed. They broke contact, and Emme pulled back, smiling and laughing, her cheeks red.

  “Never call my bluff, Miss O’Shea.” He smiled, smug.

  “Oh, I fear I must. If I don’t, you might become complacent. Bored with me.”

  He chuckled and shook his head, arms tightening around her. “If I knew nothing else from the first moment we met, it was that life with you would never, ever, be dull.”

  “And you love me for it,” she murmured in his ear, her tone almost a question.

  He took her hand again and pressed it against the glass heart she had given him. “I love you for it. I love you for you. Forever, Emmeline.”

  She sighed. “Forever.”

  This book was so much fun to write, and while I am usually relieved at the end of the process, I was reluctant to let Emme and Oliver go. While they were keeping me company, though, my family held down the fort and, as always, my love and thanks to them: Mark, Nina, Anna, Gunder, Shayla, Thor, and Snooki. Our little home is a castle for me because they are in it.