The Forgotten Story

by Michelle E Lowe

  “I see,” Darius noted. “And Landcross hasn’t returned?”

  “Lord Javan,” Archie interposed, stepping into the den. “I’m sorry, but what is this all about? Has he done something?”

  “I should say so. He was involved in a robbery attempt on a train.”

  “You’re joking,” Archie gasped.

  “No. Why would I be?” Darius responded peevishly.

  “He hasn’t returned here,” Eilidh lied, appearing by her husband’s side.

  Darius considered her.

  Pierce waited for Javan to question Kolt next. Instead, the lad stood quietly with hands clasped behind his back while this polite interrogation went on.

  “Landcross must be brought in,” Darius announced at length. “I will leave guards here in case he does return.”

  “Is that necessary?” Archie protested.

  “It is. In fact, I have sent a full description of him along with instructions to capture him through the teleprinter to the sheriffs near every port. I’ve gone so far as to alert the Queen and request that more troops participate in the search. Copies of his daguerreotypes are being made and will be posted all over Britain.”

  Pierce nearly blacked out.

  “Every train and stagecoach will be searched,” Darius went on. “People will be questioned and checked for scars on their necks. Even the Welsh have been notified and will be keeping guard at their ports. Scotland won’t be any safer, either. The entire country shall be on high alert. There won’t be any escape for him this time.”

  The whole room stood stunned for a long moment. Pierce stared unblinking. He shook off his shock when he realized the silence was lingering too long.

  “C’mon, somebody bloody say something,” he whispered nervously.

  “Well, Lord Javan,” Archie finally yielded. “If you wish to station soldiers here, I will not protest.”

  “It will only be until Landcross is found,” Darius explained. “I thank you for your cooperation.” He bowed again. “It was very nice meeting you, Mrs. Katz, and you, Kolt. Miss Norwich, it is always a pleasure to see you. And you, Mrs. Norwich.”

  He left, asking Archie to see him out. When the front door opened, Pierce sat up and raked a shaky hand through his hair.

  * * *

  Lord Javan did not believe Landcross was inside. Usually, he could sniff out when people were lying to him, and he had sensed no deception from anyone inside the house. However, that didn’t mean he trusted them.

  As Mr. Norwich walked him to the door, Javan opened it, stepped outside, and turned back around.

  “I do hope you find him, Lord Javan,” Mr. Norwich said at the threshold.

  “Do you, now?” he challenged.

  “Yes,” he returned.

  “Mr. Norwich, I will be frank with you. What has kept you from being arrested for assisting Landcross in the past? It is because you are related to our Queen and she is fond of you. Take note—such mercy will not be displayed upon you again. Am I making myself clear?”

  Grappling with the gravity of the situation, Mr. Norwich said sternly, “Good luck in your hunt, my lord.”

  Javan again bowed formally. “Thank you."

  He commanded four of his men to stay behind and then mounted up with the rest of his soldiers. They rode away to begin the manhunt.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Drink

  Pierce sat trembling on the bed in the guest bedroom where he had hidden after Archie gave him the all clear.

  “Bloody hell, what am I going to do?” he muttered mainly to himself.

  “We stick to the plan,” said Clover. “We’ll disguise you and—”

  He shook his head. “It won’t work, love. You heard his lordship. A countrywide manhunt has been issued.”

  “Maybe you should dress as a woman again,” Kolt suggested with levity.

  The lad may have been joking, but Pierce gave it serious consideration. Dressing in drag didn’t bother him in the least, especially if it meant the difference between life and death. Perhaps Frederica had a gown he could fit into. Then he reconsidered. He thought how ridiculous it would be if he were caught and sent to prison wearing a dress.

  Pierce snorted. “Honestly, if I actually believed I could pull it off like last time, I would, lad.” He stood to lean against the wall. “I need to get out of this house. Maybe I’ll sneak out when only half of the guards are on night watch. I can head for the coast of Black Water. The port there might not have so much security.”

  “It’s very risky, Landcross,” Archie added unhelpfully.

  “Aye, but so is staying here, risking you lot.”

  Archie paled as if he was about to be sick. He didn’t need to say anything, for it was obvious that Darius had said something to him before he left.

  “The sooner I clear out, the better it’ll be for everybody here.”

  “The ferryboats are too dangerous, Pierce,” argued Eilidh, entering the room while carrying a tea tray with freshly brewed tea in the pot.

  She placed it on the dresser and poured a cup. “You should try for Mrs. Katz’s boat.”

  “Pardon?” Frederica said, perking up as Eilidh brought a teacup over to Pierce. “My boat?”

  “Here you are,” Eilidh offered.

  As he accepted it, he looked her in the eye. What he saw were eyes looking through Eilidh’s as if they were made of glass. It wasn’t Eilidh staring back at him any longer.

  When he’d noticed it at Buckingham Palace, he’d dismissed it as just his imagination. Although he had no earthly idea what she could be, he strongly sensed she was a friend. Was she the help he had been hoping for all this time?

  The woman who wasn’t Eilidh gave him a curt nod and turned to Frederica. “You’d mentioned you have a private boat waiting for you in London. If he manages to get there, you can sail him to France.”

  It actually sounded like a solid plan. Granted, he’d have to travel into the most dangerous city in the world for him, and yet, because it was so dangerous, no one would suspect him to head there.

  “Aye, Darius will be focusing more of his troops on the southern territories and places such as Dover to fret too much about London,” Pierce pointed out. “I mean, if I hadn’t overheard him earlier, I’d be heading for Southampton right now. And since Freddie’s boat is a private vessel, it most likely won’t be inspected.”

  “How are you going to make it there?” Archie wondered. “You can’t ride on a train or even travel by stagecoach.”

  “I’ll steer clear of the roads and ride alone on horseback during the night. Trust me. I’ve done this sort of thing before.”

  It was a fairly decent plan. His best shot, in fact. Then he noticed the concerned look on Frederica’s face. There was good reason for it. Not only did she have the welfare of her son to consider, she also had an established career, which had taken years to build. If she were discovered assisting him, she could lose everything.

  “Freddie, love,” he said soothingly. “It’s fine. I’ll find another way out.”

  She stared at him deeply for a long moment. Her disquiet slowly shifted to sympathy.

  “I do not understand,” Kolt chimed in, clearly not understanding the risk. “It is a good plan. Why would you try to find another way?”

  “He will not,” Frederica interjected.

  With a sigh, she walked over to Pierce and took his teacup from him. She set it down on the bedside table so she could hold his hands. “We can take him.”

  It may have been her compassion toward the family that needed him home, or her guilt for coming into his room the night before—or even that she did still loved him enough to risk saving his life. Whatever the reason, he knew he’d bloody well take it.

  “When you arrive in London, send word to me at the Hotel Joubert,” Frederica instructed.

  Hotel Joubert? That’ll be easy to remember.

  “Is there a place for you to hide in London?” she asked him.

  Pierce pondered a
tick. “My mate, Robert. I’ll go to him.”

  She nodded. “If you reach the city, I’ll board you on my boat and bring you to your friends in France.”

  If he weren’t married, he would have kissed her passionately.

  Frederica turned around to face the room while holding Pierce’s hand. “But that still leaves the other obstacle. How are we going to sneak him out of the house?”

  Everyone was quiet a moment.

  “A trunk,” Clover blurted out.

  “A trunk?” repeated Archie.

  “We’ll put him inside one of our luggage trunks and pretend it belongs to Mrs. Katz, and then we’ll carry it out to the carriage. It’s our coachman’s day off tomorrow anyway, so you can drive the coach, Archie.”

  “Oi, that just might work,” Pierce said.

  “Then what?” her older brother challenged her. “Keep him locked in there all the way to London?”

  “Nope.” Pierce waved his hand. “I don’t fancy tight, confining places. A short trip in a box will be the extent of my mental limitations.”

  “All right, but a short trip where?” Archie asked.

  “To the barn on old Pitmen’s property,” Clover chimed in. “It’s halfway between here and the town. It’ll be the safest place he can be let out.”

  Archie glared at her strangely.

  “I don’t recall any old barn on the way to town.”

  “It’s sort of tucked away in the forest. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

  Before anyone could protest to her coming along, Kolt shouted, “Ja! You should come with us. I’m sure your help will be needed.”

  The lad’s glowing face seemed to defeat any argument that Archie was gearing up to offer.

  “Fine,” Archie said, caving. “We shall take Landcross to the barn, and Mrs. Katz and her son to the railway station.”

  “Wonderful idea,” praised the woman who wasn’t Eilidh.

  Archie again eyed her queerly. Even Pierce knew it wasn’t like Eilidh to be so precarious.

  Before his suspicions deepened, Pierce said, “Right. Who’s up for a game of cards?”

  The evening was nice and quiet. Archie set the guards up with supper and made room for them in the barn to sleep. The children played with their automaton toys down in the den. Dinner was good, even though Pierce ate alone in the guest bedroom. After the children went to bed, the rest of the household gathered in the room with him to drink and play cards.

  Long after everyone had gone to sleep, Pierce found himself downstairs on the couch, awake and restless. He’d started a fire in the hearth and retrieved a bottle of scotch from the kitchen. The curtains were drawn over every window to keep the guards from spotting him.

  Pierce sat in the armchair and poured his first glass. Just as he finished taking a drink, the floor creaked. He whipped around, clicking the hammer of his pistol.

  “Put that away,” the woman who wasn’t Eilidh demanded. “I do not care to have weapons turned on me.”

  He redirected the gun and thumbed the hammer forward. “My apologies,” he said softly, setting the gun on the coffee table in front of him.

  “Do not fret about the volume of your voice.” She picked up the bottle and his glass to pour the scotch. “I have placed a shield over this house. You could throw open the drapes and scream at those guards outside if you wanted. They would neither see nor hear you.”

  “I’d rather not.” Pierce took the glass when she handed it to him.

  She sat on the couch across from him. “I had to pull the same deceptive spell over Lord Javan. Otherwise, he would have suspected you were in the house.”

  “Really? I thought everybody convinced him.”

  “A lesser person would have been fooled,” she explained, straightening out her nightgown as she crossed her legs. “The Persian is wise and knows what to look for in people when they lie.”

  Pierce was rather surprised she had come down dressed only in her nightgown, but it was obvious this woman wasn’t interested in mortal etiquettes.

  “I see you’re more than what everyone believes you are. May I be so bold as to ask what?”

  “You may if you drink first.”

  He looked at the scotch and then downed it.

  She poured him another.

  “What are you?” Pierce demanded.

  “I once had this conversation with your grandmother. Élie had great potential to become the next Mother of Craft. If it wasn’t for Freya turning her powers against her, stealing away her years, and dulling her senses, she would already be transformed.”

  Pierce hadn’t the foggiest idea what she was talking about.

  He took a swig. “So, what are you?” he asked again.

  “I used to be a lot of things. What will affect you directly, though, is the fact that I’ve managed to hold onto most of my abilities throughout the centuries.”

  “You mean that powers fade?”

  “Indeed. Unless you’re a special kind of god or goddess. I was never such a deity—merely a simple legend that survived in the beliefs of the Celtic people for a few hundred years. Afterward, I became a wise woman. Back then, my powers were great, and I was crowned Mother of Craft.”

  “What are you now?”

  “I am simply Orenda,” she answered, pouring another drink. “Prolonging my abilities by way of sleep.”

  “Sleep?”

  “Yes. Every two centuries or so, I create forms like this body to rest in.”

  “You created Eilidh? You mean—she isn’t even a real person?”

  “In a way, she is. She has no past, nor will she ever wonder why that is. Yet she lives just the same as any other person, with emotions and her own personality.”

  “What if you leave her?”

  “If I stay out of this body for too long, I lose my connection with her and cannot return. She shall live on. But I have no intentions of leaving until this body has grown old and dies on its own. Drink.”

  Again, he did what he was told and downed his liquor. He began feeling the alcohol in his head. “Are you a friend?”

  “I am somebody who has helped bring your entire family about,” she explained, tipping the bottle down. “I assisted your ancestor, Joaquin Cruce de Tierras, in finding people to care for him when he arrived here in England as a child.”

  “Why?”

  “I was drawn to him. His mother and father were special beings.”

  “What were they?”

  “A god with many names and a nymph named Temenitis. You know her as the witch, Freya.”

  “Wait a tick. Freya was a nymph? That means she’s—”

  “She is technically your ancestor.”

  Pierce rubbed his face. “Bloody hell. Right, not only is Freya my ancestor—technically—but also a god is, too?”

  “In all, you have four strong bloodlines. You’re very privileged.”

  Pierce now understood Robin’s appetite for his blood, as well as why it had helped him recover from sun exposure.

  “After her son was born,” Orenda continued, “Temenitis sent him away to an orphanage. He later escaped from it. He was a kindhearted child. I directed him to a couple that eventually formed a tribe of Gypsies that has spanned for generations.”

  Pierce drank his scotch and then waved her off when she offered him another. “And this means what, exactly? That you’re connected to my family?”

  “Precisely.”

  “When did you find out about Freya?”

  “There was a rumor that started when Temenitis went missing. Her sisters talked about the stranger who once offered her a demon as a servant. They suspected he was involved in her disappearance.”

  Thooranu? Pierce wondered. Was he the demon she’d been offered?

  “Stranger things have happened, so I gave the whole matter little thought,” Orenda admitted. “Then you kissed my hand.”

  “Eh?”

  “You remember. It was the day you climbed into Archie’s carriage, asking for help to
sneak into Buckingham Palace. You kissed my hand—well, Eilidh’s hand. You woke me. I looked upon you for the first time and saw there was something in you, something familiar.”

  Pierce vividly remembered that moment inside the carriage. It was a typical first encounter—or so he’d reckoned.

  “I saw both the god and the nymph in you and realized you were their descendant,” she continued. “When I learned what had happened to your grandmother, Élie, my suspicions grew.”

  “How did you find out that Freya was once the nymph?”

  “I didn’t until I saw your brother, Joaquin, when he arrived at the Toymaker’s cottage. I watched as your grandmother peered into his thoughts, and I saw that he had gone to Freya after she summoned him with her magic. She didn’t choose your brother at random. Freya knew him long before they conceived their child.”

  “And you started piecing it together that she was using my family for her own plans? Why didn’t you say anything years ago?”

  “I did. I had a conversation with your grandmother. We have had a couple more since then, in fact. I told her everything I knew at the time.”

  “Really? She mentioned nothing about it to us.”

  “I requested she not tell.”

  “And you have no idea what Freya wants to create?

  “I do not. Whatever it is, it must be a powerful being that existed years before I ever became a conscious being.”

  “Grand. So, the bloody mystery continues. Can you help me flee England?”

  “I could, but not yet.”

  “What?”

  The moment he yelled, he threw his hands over his mouth and quickly went to the window. He pulled back the drapes slightly to see if any of the guards outside had heard him.

  “I told you,” Orenda reminded him, “they cannot hear or see you as long as you’re in the house. I wish I could keep you invisible, but my powers aren’t what they used to be. Still, you can wake the others who are asleep, so do mind your tone.”

  Bloody hell, the last thing he needed was for Archie to catch him speaking to who Arch believed was his wife, dressed in just her nightgown.