by Amanda Quick
He did not sound shocked. Most likely because he, too, was in the business of theft. It was the only logical explanation for his presence here in the gallery.
“Delbridge has a certain relic that belongs to me,” she explained. “It was stolen from my family several years ago. I had given up hope of finding it tonight, but now that I know it is close at hand I cannot leave without looking for it.”
The hypnotist went very still. “How do you know that the relic you seek is nearby?”
She hesitated, uncertain how much to tell him. “I cannot explain, but I am very sure.”
“Where is it?”
She turned slightly, seeking the source of the small pulses of energy. A short distance away stood a large, elaborately carved wooden cabinet.
“There,” she said.
She gave one last tug on her wrist. This time he let her go. She hurried to the cabinet and examined it closely. There were two doors secured by a lock.
“As I expected,” she said.
She reached into her pocket, removed the lock pick that Adam Harrow had given her and went to work.
The process did not go nearly as smoothly as it had when Adam had supervised her practice sessions. The lock did not yield.
The hypnotist watched in silence for a moment.
Perspiration dampened her forehead. She angled the pick in a slightly different direction and tried again.
“Something tells me you haven’t had a lot of experience at this sort of thing,” the hypnotist said neutrally.
His condescension jolted her.
“On the contrary, I’ve had a great deal of practice,” she said through her teeth.
“But evidently not in the dark. Stand aside. Let me see what I can do.”
She wanted to argue but common sense prevailed. The truth was, her practice with the lock pick consisted of only a couple of days of hurried experimentation. She thought she had displayed considerable aptitude, but Adam had warned her that picking a lock when one was feeling pressured was a different matter entirely.
The ticking of the clock on the table was very loud in the quiet gallery. Time was running out. She glanced at the frozen figure waiting to come out of his trance.
Reluctantly she stepped back from the cabinet. Mutely she held out the pick.
“I brought my own,” the hypnotist said.
He produced a small, slender strip of metal from the pocket of his coat, fitted it into the lock and went to work. Almost immediately Leona heard a faint snick.
“Got it,” he whispered.
To Leona’s ears, the squeak of the hinges was as loud as a train. Anxiously she looked back along the gallery toward the main staircase, but there was no shifting of the shadows at that end of the room; no footsteps reverberated along the gallery.
The hypnotist looked into the depths of the cabinet. “It appears that we both came here on the same errand tonight.”
A new and different chill went through her. “You came here to steal my crystal?”
“I suggest we save the topic of the legal ownership of the stone for another time.”
Outrage sparked, overriding her fear. “That crystal is mine.”
She started forward, intending to retrieve the crystal, but the hypnotist blocked her path. He reached into the cabinet.
It was difficult to make out his movements in the darkness, but she knew immediately when disaster struck. She heard his sudden, sharp exhalation followed by a low, muffled cough. Simultaneously she caught a faint whiff of some unfamiliar chemical.
“Get back,” he ordered.
There was so much intensity in the command that she found herself obeying without stopping to think.
“What is it?” she asked, retreating a few steps. “What’s wrong?”
He turned away from the cabinet. She was amazed to see that he was staggering a little, as though he was having trouble maintaining his balance. He held a black velvet pouch in one hand.
“Delbridge will most likely be very busy dealing with the police after the woman’s body is discovered,” he said quietly. “With luck it will be a while before he will be able to start searching for the stone. You will have time to escape.”
A flat, grim quality laced the words.
“And so will you,” she said quickly.
“No,” he said.
A terrible dread welled up inside her. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong?”
“Time just ran out.” He seized her wrist again and hauled her toward the servants’ stairs. “We cannot delay another second.”
A moment ago she had been furious with him, but now panic was beating through her veins. Her heart pounded.
“What happened?” she demanded. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, but not for long.”
“For heaven’s sake, tell me what occurred when you took the crystal out of the cabinet.”
He opened the door that led to the spiral staircase. “I triggered a trap.”
“What sort of trap?” She peered closely at his hands. “Were you cut? Are you bleeding?”
“The crystal was inside a glass case. When I opened the case, I got a face full of some noxious vapor. I inhaled a quantity of it. I suspect it was a poison.”
“Dear God. Are you certain?”
“There is no doubt.” He struck a light and then gave her a firm shove that sent her plunging down the ancient stone steps. “I can already feel the effects.”
She looked back over her shoulder. In the flaring light she saw him clearly for the first time. Jet-black hair, unfashionably long, swept straight back from his high forehead and fell behind his ears to brush the collar of his shirt. His features had been ruthlessly hewn by a sculptor who had cared more about portraying power than good looks. The hypnotist’s face suited his mesmeric voice: haunting, mysterious and dangerously fascinating. If a woman looked too long into those fathomless green eyes, she risked falling under a spell from which she might never escape.
“We must get you to a doctor,” she said.
“If the vapor is what I think it is, no doctor will know how to counteract it. There is no known cure.”
“We must try.”
“Listen closely,” he said. “Your life will depend upon following my orders. In a very short period of time, perhaps fifteen minutes at most, I will become a madman.”
She struggled to take in the terrible meaning of what he was saying. “Because of the poison?”
“Yes. The drug produces hellish hallucinations that overwhelm the victim’s mind, causing him to believe that he is surrounded by demons and monsters. You must not be anywhere near me when the stuff takes control of my senses.”
“But—”
“I will become a grave threat to you and anyone else who happens to be nearby. Do you comprehend me?”
She swallowed hard and hurried down a few more steps. “Yes.”
They were almost at the bottom of the staircase. She could see the crack of moonlight under the door that opened onto the gardens.
“How do you intend to leave this place?” the hypnotist asked.
“My companion is waiting for me with a carriage,” she said.
“Once we are clear of the gardens you must get as far away as possible from me and this damned mansion. Here, take the crystal.”
She paused on one of the worn stone steps, half turning. He held out the velvet pouch. Stunned, she took it from him, aware of the slight tingle of energy. The gesture told her more clearly than his words that he truly did not expect to survive the night.
“Thank you,” she said, uncertainly. “I did not expect—”
“I have no choice but to give it to you now. I can no longer be responsible for it.”
“Are you absolutely certain there is no remedy for the poison?”
“None that we know of. Pay close attention. I understand that you feel you have a claim on that damned crystal, but if you have any common sense, any care at all for your personal safety, you will return it to it
s true owner. I will give you his name and address.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I assure you there is no way Delbridge will be able to find me. It is you who are in danger tonight. You said something about hallucinations. Please, tell me precisely what is happening to you.”
He dashed the back of his sleeve across his eyes with an impatient movement and then shook his head as though to clear it. “I am starting to see things that are not there. At the moment I am still aware that the images are fantasies, but soon they will become real to me. That is when I will become a threat to you.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“I believe that the vapor was used twice in the past two months. Both victims were elderly collectors. Neither was prone to violent outbursts, but under the influence of the drug they attacked others. One of them stabbed a loyal servant to death. The second tried to set his nephew afire. Now do you comprehend the danger you are in, madam?”
“Tell me more about these hallucinations you say you are starting to see.”
He put out the dying light and opened the door at the bottom of the stairwell. Cold, damp air greeted them. Moonlight still illuminated the gardens, but rain was coming.
“If the reports are accurate,” he said evenly, “I am about to be consumed by a waking nightmare. I will likely soon be dead. Both of the other victims died.”
“How did they die?”
He stepped outside and drew her with him. “One threw himself out a window. The other suffered a heart attack. Enough chatter. I must get you safely away from here.”
He spoke with a cool detachment that was almost as worrisome as the prediction. He had accepted his fate, she realized, yet he was making plans to save her. A thrill of astonished wonder came over her, leaving her breathless. He did not even know her name yet he was determined to help her escape. No one had ever done anything so heroic for her in her entire life.
“You will come with me, sir,” she said. “I know something of nightmares.”
He dismissed the promise of hope out of hand, not even bothering to respond.
“Keep your voice down and stay close,” he said.
2
I’M A DEAD MAN, Thaddeus Ware thought.
It was odd how little effect the knowledge had on him. Perhaps he was already under the spell of the drug. He thought he was holding the nightmares at bay, but he could not be certain. The conviction that he was strong enough to resist the poison for a few more minutes might in itself be an illusion.
Nevertheless, in the desperate hope that he was, indeed, managing to control the bizarre images, he concentrated his attention on the woman and the need to see her to safety. It was now his only goal. It seemed to him that the bizarre images gathering at the edge of his awareness receded a little when he focused hard on saving his companion. Something to be said for all the years spent learning to control his hypnotic talents. He did not lack for raw willpower. He sensed the ability was all that stood between him and the coalescing dream world that would soon engulf him.
He led the way through the gardens, following the path he had taken earlier when he had entered the mansion. For once the lady obeyed, staying close beside him.
A long, high hedge loomed in their path. He reached out and caught hold of the woman, intending to steer her toward the gate, but when his hand closed around her arm, his concentration shattered like a fine china vase dropped on a marble floor. Without warning elation flooded his veins. He tightened his grip, savoring the heady rush of pleasure.
He heard a soft, startled gasp, but he paid no attention. He was suddenly intensely aware of the exquisite, supple roundness of the arm he held. The woman’s scent was intoxicating, driving out all rational thought.
Demons and monsters crept out from under the hedge. They grinned, moonlight glinting on their fangs. You can take her here, now. There is nothing to stop you. She is yours.
The woman must realize how erotic she looked in men’s clothes, he thought. It amused and pleased him to know that she had deliberately dressed that way in order to tempt him.
“You must get hold of yourself, sir,” she said urgently. “We are not far from the carriage. Only a few more minutes, and we will both be safe.”
Safe. The word triggered an elusive memory. He concentrated, trying to recall something that was important, something he had to do before he claimed the woman. It came to him then, a wispy bit of knowledge tossed about by invisible winds. He seized hold of the little scrap of reality and held fast. He had to save the woman. Yes, that was it. She was in danger.
The demons and monsters wavered, becoming briefly transparent.
You’re hallucinating, Ware. Pay attention or you’ll get her killed. That realization struck with the impact of ice water. He pulled himself back from the brink.
“Be careful or you’ll trip over him,” he said.
“A demon?” she asked warily.
“No, the man under the hedge.”
“What on earth?” Startled, she glanced down and gave another little gasp when she saw the booted foot poking out from beneath the thick foliage. “Is he—?” She did not finish the sentence.
“I put him and the other guard into a trance on my way into the mansion,” he explained, urging her toward the gate. “They will not awaken until dawn.”
“Oh.” There was a short pause. “I, uh, did not know that Delbridge employed guards.”
“You might want to allow for that possibility the next time you undertake a spot of burglary.”
“I entered the mansion in the guise of one of the many servants hired for the evening, but I was planning to escape through the gardens. I would have run straight into the guards if you had not already taken care of them. How fortuitous that we met up tonight.”
“My luck definitely runneth over this evening, no doubt about it.”
He did not bother to hide his sarcasm. Her positive attitude was almost as maddening as the damn hallucinations.
“You sound very tense,” she whispered, hurrying along beside him. “Are the hallucinations coming on more strongly?”
He wanted to shout at her; he wanted to shake her until she understood the direness of the situation. The hallucinations were not coming on; they were lying in wait in dark corners, anticipating the moment when his will would falter again as it had a moment ago. The instant he lost control the nightmares would flood his brain. Most of all he wanted to kiss her before he fell into the nightmare.
But the simple truth was that he did not have time to do any of those things. He was doomed. The only thing he could do was try to save her. A few more minutes. That was all he needed to get the woman to her carriage and see her off. Just a few more minutes. He could hold on that long. He had to hold on for her sake.
He opened the heavy gate. The woman went through it quickly. He followed.
The Delbridge mansion was located a few miles outside of London. Beyond the high garden walls lay a thick stand of trees. The woods appeared impenetrable, but when he looked more closely he could see the monsters lurking in the deep shadows.
“The carriage is not far from here,” the woman said.
He removed the pistol from the pocket of his coat. “Take this.”
“Why would I want your gun?”
“Because the hallucinations are getting worse. A moment ago I was about to force myself on you. I do not know what I will do next.”
“Nonsense.” She sounded genuinely shocked. “I do not believe for one moment that you would have forced yourself on me, sir.”
“Then you are not half as intelligent as I first thought.”
She cleared her throat. “Nevertheless, under the circumstances, I understand your concerns.”
She took the pistol gingerly, gripping it awkwardly in one hand. Turning, she led him down a narrow, rutted lane dimly lit by the moon.
“I don’t suppose you know how to use that gun I just gave you,” he said.
“No. But my friend is familiar with g
uns.”
She had a friend, a male friend. The news hit him with the force of a blow. Outrage and an inexplicable possessiveness clawed his insides.
No, he was in the grip of the hallucinations again. In any event, in all likelihood he would be dead by dawn. He had no claim on the woman.
“Who is this friend?” he asked, nevertheless.
“You will meet him in a moment. He is waiting for me in the woods.”
“What sort of male friend would allow you to take the risks you are taking tonight?”
“Adam and I concluded that it would be easier for one person rather than two to enter the mansion,” she said. “In any event, someone had to watch the carriage and the horses.”
“Your friend should have gone into the mansion and left you behind with the carriage.”
“My friend is a man of many talents, but he does not possess the ability required to sense the crystal. I was the only one who had any hope of finding it.”
“That damn crystal was not worth the risk you took tonight.”
“Really, sir, this is hardly the time to administer a lecture.”
She was right. The nightmarish images were crowding closer again. Ghouls hovered at the corner of his eye. Demons prowled at the edge of the lane. A large snake with glowing red eyes slithered through the overhanging branches of a nearby tree.
He stopped talking and went back to concentrating on the need to get the woman into her carriage so that her good friend Adam could take her away from this nightmare.
They rounded a curve in the rutted path. A small, closed, very fast-looking carriage loomed in the path. There was no one on the box. The two horses stood quietly, dozing.
Leona stopped, looking around somewhat anxiously.
“Adam?” she called softly. “Where are you?”
“I am here, Leona.”
Excitement and an unfamiliar sense of wonder unfurled inside Thaddeus. At last he had a name for the woman: Leona. The ancients had believed that names had power. They were right. The name Leona infused him with strength.
You’re hallucinating, Ware. Get hold of yourself.
A slender man enveloped in a coachman’s heavily caped greatcoat stepped out of the trees. He had a cap pulled down low over his eyes. Moonlight glinted on the pistol in his hand.