Beyond the Pale

by Sabrina Flynn

  Grimm jerked his head.

  Sam waited, smoke curling from the end of his cigarette. Then he made a shooing gesture. “I’m not inclined to wait long.”

  Grimm took a careful step back.

  “Git, boy! You’d best run quick.”

  Grimm backed around the corner, nearly tripping over the dead body. As soon as he was out of the man’s sight, he bolted like a racehorse, expecting the bite of a bullet in his back.

  Josiah Shaw ran for his life.

  63

  Hold On

  Ian Noble stepped into the guest room where he’d dragged his future son-in-law. Abigail and another maid were attending to him. The Mexican, his wife called her. He hadn’t bothered to learn her name. The damn servants never stayed long enough.

  “I’ve tried to make him as comfortable as possible, sir,” Abigail said. The women had Freddie on the bed. They were holding bandages to his chin and cheek. “I cleaned it as best I could.”

  “Let me see.”

  Abigail peeled back bandages and nodded for the other woman to do the same. A fresh well of blood leaked from the jagged hole. It wasn’t a lethal shot. The tiny bullet had passed under his chin, shattered teeth, and punched out a hole in his cheek. Freddie would lose some teeth and have two nasty scars, but he’d live.

  “I don’t know why he’s unconscious.”

  Ian sniffed at his breath. Sweet and strong, under the scent of blood. He lifted an eyelid. His pupils were pinpoints, and his breathing was shallow. Laudanum. Perfect.

  Ian nodded. “Well done, Miss Abigail.”

  “Is an ambulance on the way, sir?”

  “Yes, it is,” he said. “Mrs. Noble needs attending to at once. I’ll sit with Freddie.”

  “Of course, sir,” Abigail hesitated. “And the new maid?”

  “Locked in the room. Freddie caught her stealing along with an accomplice.”

  Abigail put a hand to her lips. “I’m sorry, sir. I should have spotted it sooner.”

  “She was a cunning thief.”

  Abigail shooed the other maid out and closed the door, leaving Ian alone with Freddie Starling.

  Was the girl telling the truth? Had Freddie killed Dominic? Ian sighed as he picked up a spare pillow. He couldn’t take the chance. There was no way to tell what that female detective was after.

  Freddie Starling had powerful connections, ones Ian needed. And Ian had used them. He truly liked Freddie, unlike his spineless layabout of a son who’d thought a little too much of his surname. Freddie had backbone. But he’d become a liability.

  Ian Noble pressed the pillow against Freddie’s face. Imogen would move on. He was sure of it. When Freddie’s chest stopped moving, Ian checked his pulse. One couldn’t ask for a more peaceful death.

  Ian stood, replaced the pillow, and walked from the room. As much as he disliked the thought, the girl and the detective would have to be silenced. One couldn’t have rumors floating about.

  Atticus Riot wrenched open Jack’s stall, and slipped the bridle over his head. “We need to fly, old friend.”

  Jack stomped impatiently as Riot flung a blanket and saddle onto his back, and cinched the straps. He took the reins in one hand and swung himself into the saddle.

  Riot didn’t need to dig in his heels. Jack sensed his urgency and danced out of the stable before tearing off down the street.

  Sarah had always had weak hands. Her grip gave out ten feet from the ground. She screamed, hit a bush, and fell through its leaves. Branches snapped and tugged, then she hit the ground, pain shooting up her foot.

  She rolled free of the bush, a myriad of scratches burning along her face and hands. Her dress was caught on a branch, and she gave it a tug. It tore. Sarah gritted her teeth, clutching at her throbbing ankle. Isobel. She had to keep moving. She looked up, following the path of the sheet rope to the window so far above.

  Sarah had done it. She’d climbed down. But Isobel was still dying. At that panicked thought, she rolled onto her knees and tried to stand, but staggered and would have collapsed except for the arms that caught her.

  Sarah yelped in fear and tried to break free, but the hands on her arms tightened.

  “Sarah.”

  Sarah blinked in shock. It was Jin. “How…” It didn’t matter. Jin was here. Sarah threw her arms around her little sister and squeezed.

  “Stop it! What is going on?”

  “How did you...”

  Jin stepped back with a glare. “Tobias and I have been watching the manor with my spyglass to make sure Isobel is safe.”

  “She’s not safe, Jin.”

  “Yes, I figured that out when I heard gunshots, then saw you climbing down the side of the house. I sent Tobias to fetch the police.”

  “Isobel is dying.”

  Jin’s eyes blazed. “No.”

  “We need an ambulance,” Sarah whispered frantically. “Freddie shot her. He tried to kill me. Mr. and Mrs. Noble locked us in a room even though Isobel is bleeding all over.”

  “Go,” Jin ordered, pushing her away.

  Sarah hopped on one leg, nearly falling with pain.

  “Make sure you bring someone back. Anyone willing to help.”

  Sarah didn’t have to ask what Jin was going to do. The girl was already climbing a drainpipe, then skirted a bit of decoration. She paused a moment, leapt for the sheet rope and caught it, then scrambled upwards like a monkey.

  Sarah didn’t linger to see if Jin made it through the window. She already knew the answer. She limped through the gardens, biting her lip and dragging her foot. Then she stumbled and fell through a hedge right into the path of a horse.

  It leapt over her without pause, landed, and spun around, dancing impatiently. Sarah gaped. She’d found someone all right.

  Sao Jin climbed over the windowsill and slipped into the room. She didn’t look overly long at Isobel—she didn’t let herself. Not yet. But it was difficult to ignore her adoptive mother bundled in a blanket, as still as death and just as pale.

  Jin focused on the room. Blood trails, the splatter, broken furniture. Sarah’s discarded handbag. And finally, the door.

  Jin knew what walked through doors. She’d learned the hard way.

  She snatched a chair and jammed it under the handle, so the door wouldn’t budge. Her knife was tucked snuggly up her sleeve, but she’d feel better if she had something else to protect her mother with.

  Jin’s gaze bounced from Sarah’s handbag, to the wreckage and blood path, to Sarah’s little pearl-handled derringer. Jin snatched it from the floor, pressed on a small latch, swung open the barrel, and pushed on the extractor. One spent casing, the other still live.

  Keeping it open, she shook out Sarah’s handbag. Pencils, notepads, charcoals, a pocket watch, and all manner of useless things tumbled onto the floor. Along with two spare cartridges. Jin pushed a new round into the empty chamber, half-cocked the derringer, and flipped the barrel closed. Only then did she let herself check on Isobel.

  Jin crouched to put her cheek over Isobel’s lips. Faint breath stirred against her scarred skin. She shuddered in relief. Then set the derringer down and shifted the blankets. Blood saturated the fabric. So much blood.

  Jin wanted to peel back the towel and look at the wound, but she didn’t dare. Instead, she leveled a glare at Isobel. “You will not die, Faan tung,” she said with all the conviction she could muster. “I will never forgive you if you do.”

  Isobel did not move. But the door handle did, stopped short by the chair.

  Sao Jin planted herself in front of Isobel and raised the derringer as the door shuddered. Jin had watched helplessly as men butchered her birth mother. But not this time. She would never let that happen again.

  Riot slid from Jack and grabbed Sarah’s shoulders. Scratches marred her face, and there was blood on her collar, on her sleeves, and her dress was torn. She looked on the verge of fainting.

  “Isobel…” Sarah thrust a shaking finger back at the manor. “She’s dying
. Freddie shot her.”

  Riot said nothing. He crashed through the bushes and raced for the front door. Jack bolted after him, tossing his head in triumph when he took the lead. Riot hit the front steps, paused long enough to shoot the lock, then kicked open the door. “Where is my wife!” he demanded.

  A butler froze at the end of the entryway. The man’s lips trembled as a dusty cowboy marched into the house with a revolver in hand. A horse trotted in after.

  Riot pointed his gun at the man. “Isobel. Where is she?”

  “I… I…” the butler stuttered. Then raised his hands, dropping the silver tray with a clatter of utensils.

  “The new maid,” Riot said cooly.

  The butler pointed up the stairs.

  Riot kept a gun trained on the man as he moved to the steps. “Hitch up a carriage, or I’ll shoot you when I come back down.”

  Riot didn’t wait to see if the man obeyed. He left Jack to explore the manor (the horse loved houses), and raced up the stairs, past screaming maids and a well-dressed woman who fainted at his approach. He paused at an intersection of hallways. Then came a crash of splintering wood.

  Riot raced towards the sound to find a lordly man throwing his shoulder against a door. He raised his gun. “Step away from the door!”

  Ian Noble froze, poised for another blow.

  “Hands up. Step away,” Riot ordered.

  Ian had lived long enough to know that look in a man’s eyes. And he knew not to argue with it. Ian took a single, calculated step back. “Who the devil are you?” he demanded.

  “Is there a wounded woman in there?”

  Ian’s cheek twitched—a moment’s hesitation—but enough for Riot to spot the man’s bluff.

  “You mean the thief?” Ian rumbled.

  “I mean my partner.”

  “We thought she was a thief.”

  “Looks bad for you. I’m with the police.” It was a bald-faced lie, but Riot was a convincing sort. “Open your coat. Turn out your pockets.”

  Ian gnawed on the inside of his cheek, but did as ordered. He didn’t have a weapon. “We didn’t know. I locked her inside to wait for the police. Now the door won’t open.”

  Hope swelled in Riot’s heart—a dying woman couldn’t jam a door shut.

  The door stopped shuddering. Voices came through the wood, and Jin stood poised to fire at the first person who came through the door.

  “Bel, it’s me! Open the door.”

  Jin’s eyes narrowed. Ever suspicious, she called back. “Who are you?”

  “Jin?”

  “Who are you?” she shouted.

  “Bahba.”

  Jin’s knees went weak, but she’d never admit it. She kicked aside the chair, and the door flew open, nearly hitting her in the face.

  Riot glanced at her as he hurried past. But when a man behind him tried to enter, Jin raised her derringer. “Get back,” she growled in warning.

  “You’re the one trespassing. I have every right to go in there.”

  “Try it,” she said.

  Riot’s world narrowed to the woman on the floor. His hands shook as he pressed fingers against her neck. “Bel,” he whispered. “Hold on. Stay with me. I’ll get you help.”

  He shifted blankets, dreading what he’d find. The smell of her blood made him sick with terror; the sight of it a nightmare. Riot choked out her name, forcing down the rising bile in his throat.

  She was so pale. So lifeless.

  His gaze snapped to where Jin was holding Ian Noble at gunpoint.

  “I’m a vengeful man, Mr. Noble. You’d best hope there’s a carriage or ambulance waiting for us.” Moving with extreme care, he lifted her into his arms and hurried out the door. Jin followed on his heels, keeping the derringer trained on anyone who got too close.

  64

  Frantic

  The next hours passed in a blur. A frantic carriage ride, every bump jerking Isobel’s limp body. Riot couldn’t think. The receiving hospital. Doctors. White coats. Nurses urging him back. He felt helpless. No amount of shooting would fix this. He could race back to the Noble Manor and put a bullet in Freddie Starling’s skull, but it wouldn’t help.

  Isobel was dying.

  Slowly the terror rushing through his veins subsided. His heart slowed to an agonizing rhythm, and the world came back into harsh focus. He noticed a hand in his own.

  Riot looked down to find Jin clutching his hand. The little girl was stone-faced and pale. Sarah was at his other side, quietly weeping, each breath a shudder.

  Riot took a deep breath, like a man emerging from a frigid river. He tore his gaze from the surgery door and squeezed Jin’s hand. Then put an arm around Sarah, steering her towards a nurse.

  The nurse got Sarah settled on a cot, and they sat nearby as a doctor saw to her ankle.

  Jin’s hand snuck back into his. “Isobel will be fine,” she said.

  Riot didn’t reply.

  “She is too stubborn to die.” This was said with more conviction.

  “I think I’m supposed to be comforting you,” he murmured.

  “Yes,” she said, resting her head against his arm. “But I will forgive you. Only this one time.” He looked down, and she looked up, giving him a small smile. “We are a very exciting family.”

  “Maybe a little too exciting,” he admitted.

  Jin snorted, so like her mother. “You forget where you found us, bahba. We were all trouble to begin with.”

  65

  Out to Sea

  Isobel drifted in an ocean. She’d lost her boat somewhere along the way. But this ocean was warm and soothing. It was the kind of stillness that came after a storm, with water rippling like silk and sparkling under the sun. So she drifted, relishing the peace. Far, far out to sea.

  66

  A Hasty Message

  Tobias White gripped a saddle horn. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. The horse underneath him was scary. Grimm had only let him ride Sugar, and that was just around the yard.

  When Tobias had run back to Noble Manor from the police call box (he’d finally gotten to use one!), he found Mr. Riot loading a dead-looking Isobel into a carriage, and his mouth had fallen open.

  Jin and Sarah had climbed in, and Tobias went to follow, but Riot stopped him. “Get word to Tim and the agency.” Then he pointed to Jack, who was eyeing the carriage horses with derision. “Take Tobias home.”

  The carriage rolled away, leaving Tobias with the pinto horse. It wasn’t fair. But he’d been given a job to do, and apparently the horse too.

  Jack had snorted at him, but then stepped up and bowed his head to nibble on Tobias’s laces. What kind of man talked to a horse like it was a dog?

  When Tobias tried to pull on the horse’s reins to lead him away, Jack had reared and snapped at him. Then police wagons started to roll up to the manor, so Tobias had scrambled on top of Jack, who took off in a hurry.

  Smart horse.

  It turned out Jack knew how to get home—in a roundabout way. The horse preferred a more scenic route that passed several grocers with barrels of apples outside. It was all Tobias could do to hold on, so he let the horse do his thing.

  Eventually, horse and rider trotted up the lane to Ravenwood Manor. It was dark by that time. Tobias slid off the saddle, dropping to the ground. The horse seemed to be waiting for something, so Tobias gave him a pat. “Thanks.”

  He tried to walk towards the house, but Jack moved in front of him, and started sidestepping him back towards the stable house.

  “I’m going to get Grimm. He’ll take care of you.” Tobias ducked under the horse and made for the house.

  Jack tossed his head, danced in front of Tobias and pushed him back towards the stable.

  “Fine.” To keep the horse happy, Tobias picked up the reins and marched to the stable. It was dark inside, but Mrs. May was hitched to the hack. That was strange.

  A hand grabbed Tobias’s shoulder, and he yelped, falling backwards. He scrambled away to hit
his head on a post.

  “Toby,” a voice hissed.

  Tobias squinted up at his brother. He was crouched over him, with Jack standing over them both, nibbling at Grimm’s ear. He should have known it was Grimm when Jack hadn’t gotten all riled up.

  “Toby, go inside and get your things. Ma and Maddie are waiting for you.”

  “Why are you whispering?”

  Grimm hushed him. “Do it.”

  “I liked it better when you didn’t talk,” Tobias said, dusting himself off.

  Grimm hung his head. “I got us in trouble again,” he whispered. “We got to go.”

  “But Miss Isobel is dying. We can’t just leave.”

  “We’ll all end up dead if we don’t.”

  Tobias curled his fists. “No,” he said with a stomp of his foot. “I’m sick and tired of moving around. This is our family.”

  “They’re not our family. Ma works for them.”

  “That’s not true, and you know it. Mr. A.J. can help us. Whatever it is…” That was the thing, Tobias didn’t know what it was. No one told him anything. Something about him not being able to keep secrets.

  Grimm made a grab for him, but Tobias ducked under his brother’s hand and fled the stable house. He skidded to a stop in the middle of the yard. Was Grimm serious? Someone would kill them if they stayed? They’d moved around for as long as Tobias could remember. He was only now realizing it wasn’t because they liked to travel.

  Grimm headed straight for him, so he ran to the only place he could think of—his fort. Tobias ducked inside the rickety fort and slammed the door, then curled a little wire he’d fashioned around a hook to lock it.

  “Toby!” Grimm hissed.