by C. J. Archer
I was prepared to concede that I'd judged too harshly and too soon, but as I watched her answer Samuel's polite questions with simple answers and not inquire about him in return, I didn't think I had.
Thankfully, her husband joined us before the conversation ground to a halt. "Ah, Gladstone, my dear fellow. What a pleasure to see you again." He shook Samuel's hand then bowed to me. "It's Miss Charity Evans, is it not?"
I nodded. "Hello again, Mr. Myer. I'm surprised you remembered me, we only met the once."
"I remember everyone I meet, especially ladies as, uh, memorable as you, my dear." Ordinarily such a sugary sentiment would have me recoiling at worst, or rolling my eyes at best. But it was so kindly said, and accompanied with such a warm smile, that I smiled back.
"Thank you, Mr. Myer. It's indeed a pleasure to see you again."
I caught sight of both Mrs. Myer and Samuel scowling, but not at me. At Myer. Had he just hypnotized me? Or simply charmed me? Good lord, surely it was the latter and not the former?
From what I knew of him, it wouldn't surprise me if he had hypnotized me. He'd tried to hypnotize Hannah, Samuel and Jack before he knew that both the men were immune. He'd then gone on to hypnotize his wife to remove her from the room. Despite his reservations, Samuel had spent some time in Myer's company, with the aim of studying their mutual ability. He'd given up on the scheme after Myer proved unscrupulous in his quest to learn as much about the supernatural as possible. None of the Frakingham residents liked him or trusted him, as it would seem he'd helped the man who'd kidnapped and tried to kill Hannah, but all conceded that he was needed from time to time.
"My dear, if you wouldn't mind leaving us," Mr. Myer said to his wife. "I'm sure you don't wish to hear us discuss business."
"Of course I do," she snapped. "Besides, it's not business they're here to discuss and you know it." The defiant gleam in her eyes was tantamount to a declaration of war. There was no marital bliss between this husband and wife.
"You leave me little choice," he told her.
"Myer!" Samuel's voice cut through the air like a sharp blade. "Do not hypnotize her."
"My dear fellow," Myer drawled. "I was simply going to ask her to organize tea since she insists on gracing us with her presence."
"It's too late for tea," she said. "Do you drink sherry, Miss Evans?"
"Not for me, thank you."
"A teetotaler, eh?" Myer chuckled. "How quaint."
I gritted my teeth. I did not bother to tell him that I didn't abstain from drink, I just didn't feel like it at that moment. I needed to keep my wits about me in the presence of this couple.
"Gladstone looks in need of a glass of whiskey," Myer said to his wife. "See to it."
She got up with a huff and strode to the bell pull then returned to her seat. "Proceed, Mr. Gladstone. What is it you and Miss Evans wish to speak to my husband about?"
"Visions," Samuel said. "We've both been having visions after I placed a block on some of her memories."
"You blocked some of her memories?" Myer slapped the palm of his hand down on the arm of his chair. "And this after you chastised me for the one I placed on Hannah Smith."
Samuel bristled beside me on the sofa. I could feel the tension pulsing off him. "Hannah was a child!"
"I requested it," I said before tempers flared further. "I was fully aware of what I would be losing." And gaining.
"Mr. Gladstone is right," Mrs. Myer said. "They're two entirely different things. I think Mr. Gladstone has already established himself as an upstanding young gentleman. He wouldn't hypnotize a young lady if it wasn't in her best interests."
Myer spluttered a laugh. "You ought not make such broad, sweeping statements, my dear. You cannot know a man well after a few brief encounters."
Samuel's hands, resting on his knees, curled into fists. He stared down at them, but did not argue the point with our host. It was most odd. Why didn't he defend his character?
"I've had more than a few brief encounters with him," I said. "And I can make such sweeping statements. Samuel only did what I asked of him. Jack Langley was there and observed the session."
"If you trusted Gladstone so implicitly, why did you need Langley there at all?"
I bit my lip, lest I say something I regretted, like calling him a foul name I'd frequently used as a child on the street.
Mrs. Myer had been watching the exchange with interest. Now her gaze settled on Samuel's. I suspected she was about to ask him something, but a footman entered. He listened to her instructions then left.
"Something strange happened, immediately after the block was placed on me," I went on before she could speak. I told them about the first vision, then the subsequent ones, and how we'd seen through each other's eyes and those of another man. "The first three times it happened when we touched. This last time, Samuel was in Hertfordshire and I was here, in London."
"Interesting," Myer murmured, steepling his fingers.
"We wondered if you were that other fellow," I went on.
He shook his head. "I've not experienced anything like that."
"Never?" Samuel asked.
"No."
He muttered something under his breath. "I had hoped you would have some answers."
"I'm afraid not. It's an intriguing development, though. I wonder what it means."
"Perhaps it doesn't mean anything," Samuel ground out. "Perhaps it was mere happenstance, but I want to stop it. It's damned inconvenient, particularly now that it has happened without us even being near one another."
"How diverting," Mrs. Myer said, her mouth twisted in what I assumed to be amusement. "This is a development, isn't it, Everett?"
"Indeed." He rubbed his chin, thoughtful.
"Myer," Samuel began, "I don't suppose you'll allow Charity to see your study?"
Mrs. Myer smothered her brittle laugh. "They don't believe you, Everett. How disheartening that must be for you."
He ignored his wife. I was beginning to think that was the best way to cope with her snide remarks. "Come with me," he said, standing.
Samuel and I followed him up the stairs. Mercifully, his wife remained in the drawing room. The staircase swept up five floors, but we only climbed to the third. It was an excessively large house for just two people and their servants. What a marvelous space it would be to house a small orphanage; not that the residents of Mayfair would accept such an establishment in their fine midst.
I'd expected the level to be as plainly decorated as the lower parts of the house, but it wasn't. Where the drawing room wallpaper was a dull single color, the third floor was printed in opulent gold and blue. The theme extended to Myer's study, with the addition of little peacocks prancing across the walls. There was also an abundance of artifacts crammed onto the shelves and desk, including statuettes, vases, boxes, framed sketches, and no less than five lamps and several stuffed animals. There was little space left on the surface of the small, spindly-legged desk for Mr. Myer to work. Indeed, aside from a silver inkwell and a matching pen, there was no other evidence that he worked there at all.
"This isn't the room in my vision," I told Samuel.
He nodded. "Thank you, Myer. I'm sorry for the intrusion."
"Not at all. Come in. Edith won't bother us in here."
"No, thank you," Samuel said. "Though I have one more question before we go. Do you know of others who have the power of visions? Someone in the society perhaps?"
"Society?" I echoed.
"The Society for Supernatural Activity. They have an interest in paranormal matters."
"For study purposes only," Myer said. "August Langley has been a member. Indeed, a great many scientists are attracted to our little group. I've found they have an insatiable desire to learn the truth in all things. They wish to explain the inexplicable, you could say, even if the answers turn out to be not of this world."
"Myer is their leader," Samuel told me. "Langley was indeed a member, but he's not anymore. He didn't agree with some of
their methods. Nor do I."
"Come now, Gladstone. Like you, we merely yearn to know the truth. If, on occasion, the rules must be bent then no harm done."
Samuel tensed. He bared his teeth. "No harm! Tell that to Hannah, or the families of the men who died at the hands of that demon."
"Now, now, Gladstone, let's not discuss such matters in front of a lady." Myer gave me a simpering smile and patted my arm. "We're frightening Miss Evans."
I knew about the demon and other events that had occurred at Frakingham, of course, but hearing Samuel accuse Myer and the society of causing such troubles made my scalp tingle. It was too close for comfort; Samuel was only one link away from him. Indeed, the two men shared an unnatural ability of their own. An ability I hadn't trusted before, and needed to be wary of once more.
"Samuel, may we go?" I said. "I need to return to the school."
"School?" Myer cocked his head to the side. "Ah, yes, I recall now. You're a teacher."
I nodded.
"At a St. Giles school for orphans, I believe."
"Clerkenwell," I corrected. "Mr. and Mrs. Beaufort are the patrons."
"Then you are indeed fortunate." He bowed and signaled for me to leave the room ahead of him.
***
We didn't see Mrs. Myer again before departing and I was glad of it. Singularly, the Myers made me uneasy. Together, they made my skin crawl. Samuel drove me back through the elegant districts of the West End to the rookeries until we reached Clerkenwell, one of the most desperate areas of the city. It wasn't an ideal location for the orphanage, set amid the narrow, dark alleys. The soot of London had long ago settled into the cracks of the crooked, crumbling buildings and could not be scrubbed out, even by the most determined housewife.
The school was the largest building in the street and the most solid, made of good brick. Our stoop was the cleanest too, thanks to a well-paid maid. Children dressed in little more than rags gathered near the front door, talking and playing. None wore shoes, having stored them away for when the weather was cooler. None belonged inside, either. They weren't orphans. They lived nearby, although most were worse off than the orphans within the school walls. Our children had good clothes and shoes, regular meals and did not have to scavenge and steal to supplement their parents' meager incomes. It was heartbreaking to see such poverty, and I handed out coins before sending the local children on their way.
"You cannot save them all," Samuel said as he watched them edge up to the horses. "But I commend you for trying."
His words brought a lump to my throat. I'd never told anyone about my deepest wish, to save every child from poverty. It was such a fruitless dream, and there was no point in telling anyone. Besides, Samuel already knew. Samuel knew everything about me, now.
My chest tightened, my breaths coming short and shallow. I needed to stop thinking of how much Samuel knew or I'd go mad.
"Sorry," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. He'd removed his hat in the coach and it still occupied the seat. "I've been trying not to do that."
The strain of restraint showed in his exhausted features and the stoop of his shoulders. My heart softened. "Will you come inside?"
He shook his head. "You don't want me there."
"I thought you were going to stop doing that."
The corner of his mouth kicked up in a crooked half-smile. "I wasn't using my knowledge of you, that time. It was more my knowledge of what I've observed."
"Observations can be misinterpreted. If I didn't want you to come inside, I wouldn't have asked you."
He stepped closer, his eyelids lowered. Awareness of him sizzled within me. "In that case, I would like to come inside." His honey-thick voice slid across my skin, warming me all over. It was delicious and wonderful. I could listen to that voice all day, whispering sweet things into my ear, caressing my skin.
I closed my eyes. "Go on," I murmured.
"Are you sure? Is there somewhere private? I'd like to be alone with you, Charity."
For some reason, his voice changed. It was as if I'd been released from his spell. My eyes snapped open. I glared at him, hands on my hips. "You were hypnotizing me!"
He took a step back. "I was not."
"Then how do you explain my reaction?"
"How do you think?"
"Good lord, Samuel, you must think me a fool." I tried to keep my voice low, but it was difficult. "I am not like all your other women. I am not so easily coerced by your voice and charms."
"I. Did. Not. Hypnotize. You."
"Whatever you did, it wasn't natural." I'd felt not altogether there when he'd been talking, like I was out of my body, or perhaps out of my mind. It was disconcerting. I didn't like feeling that way. "Leave, now. There's nothing more to discuss, anyway."
Indeed we'd spoken about Myer and the visions in the coach. We'd drawn no conclusions and had more questions than answers.
"As you wish," he bit off. "Good day, Charity." He spun on his heel and snatched up his hat from the seat. He slammed the coach door shut, causing the horses to twitch and shift. The children scattered and the driver moved on with a rumbling of wheels. Samuel didn't look back at me.
Part of me wanted to shout at the driver to stop, but that would be foolish. Samuel was gone, and that was the way it had to be. If he was going to use his powers over me, or use his knowledge of my thoughts and memories to inveigle himself into my good graces, then we could not be friends. I would worry all the time, wondering if he was about to hypnotize me. If he wanted more.
Why, oh why, had he done that? Why couldn't he be happy to simply be my friend?
I dabbed at the tear hovering in the corner of my eye. I would not cry over this—over him.
I looked up at the bold lettering painted on the bricks above the door, spelling out the name of the school. It was somewhat comforting. This was my home and it was a good one. It was my sanctuary.
A thick fog descended over my eyes. Another vision! I fought through it and came out the other side in an enclosed, dimly lit space. A fist slammed into a leather seat opposite me and pulled back. I recognized the seat and the hand. It belonged to Samuel and he was inside the Langley coach.
The fog descended and cleared again. I was looking up at the lettering above the school's door once more. I went inside and tried not to think about what I'd seen, but it was impossible. Samuel had been so upset that he'd grown violent. I'd not thought him like that, not thought him capable of physical harm. But I'd never seen him angry before, either. A shiver washed over me and a lump of unease settled in my stomach.
It was late and the children had already eaten supper. I helped them clean up and prepare for bed, determined to stay busy and not think about Samuel. He was a grown man and not my responsibility. If I kept telling myself that, I might believe it by the morning.
I climbed into bed, still a little shaken. I wished Jack wasn't so far away; he could have advised me or talked to Samuel on my behalf. He would know if Samuel had spoken the truth about not hypnotizing me, or if he'd lied in order to…
I pulled the covers up to my chin. It didn't bear thinking about.
I must have finally fallen asleep, because a sound awoke me some time later. The darkness in my room was so dense I could barely make out the shapes of the furniture.
Something was wrong. Apprehension slithered across my skin, but I couldn't fathom what had set my nerves on edge.
Then, suddenly, a shadow emerged from deeper within the shadows. A person. Close.
I opened my mouth to scream, but a shadowy hand clamped over it. Another dug into my hair and pulled. My scalp exploded in pain. I scrabbled at the hands, trying to peel them off, but he held me too tight. He was strong, big, his hands like bear paws. He dragged me from the bed and I stumbled to my knees on the floor. The carpet softened my fall, but it did nothing to stop the searing pain ripping across my scalp as my attacker pulled me up again by my hair. I screamed into his glove. His hand pressed harder against my mouth and now cove
red my nose, too. I couldn't breathe.
Somewhere, somehow, I summoned enough sense to realize that it was a bad time to struggle and use up the last of the air in my body, so I quieted.
He marched me over to the window and kicked aside the heavy curtain. Wan moonlight filtered through, caressing my face.
"You!" he growled.
He knew me? I tried to turn to see his face, but his grip was too tight on my hair. The hand over my mouth hadn't moved and my lungs screamed for air.
"What are you doing, Witch?" he snarled.
He let the curtain drop and dragged me towards the door. My feet grappled for purchase. My chest felt like it would explode. I tried again to remove the hand over my nose and mouth, but it was no good.
Air. I needed air.
"You're coming with me," he snarled. "Back where you belong."
Oh God. No. Who was he? Why was he kidnapping me?
I had the horrible, sickening sensation that I would know the answers to my questions if I hadn't asked Samuel to block my memories.
CHAPTER 6
My attacker's hand cut off my air. Dread filled my chest where my breath should. I had to get away. I struggled, but he was too strong. I clawed at his hand, scratching and tearing. With a hiss of pain, he mercifully moved it enough so that I could breathe through my nose. Perhaps he didn't want me dead after all.
So what did he want from me?
The vision of the girl in the bed came to mind and my stomach lurched. Fear settled in my heart like a brick. She was his prisoner.