by Candace Camp
“I didn’t tell him that his efforts were probably useless. The villagers believe that if they leave their secret valley, if they go out beyond the caves into the world, they will become their true age very quickly. They will wither and die. That is why only Manco and I could pursue Coffey after he kidnapped Caya. My true age is still young, and Manco has not started the sacred rituals yet.”
“But what does any of that have to do with taking your daughter?” Megan asked.
“The last time Coffey came to the village, he talked to me about the religion he had made up, part the worship that the Incas used and part his own crazy additions. Truthfully, I did not pay a great deal of attention to what he said. I hated having to listen to him, allowing him to steal from my people. But he talked about the ritual of human sacrifice that the Incas employed. He wondered if perhaps it was not following this ritual that kept his ‘youth potion’ from working. You see, at certain important times, the Incas would sacrifice children to appease or praise the gods, or when a new emperor took the throne. They used only the most beautiful, the most perfect child, and they would give it a ritual wine to drink, intended to make their end less painful. Then they would bury the child high in the mountains. It was considered an honor, and the child was dressed in the finest clothes, buried with a toy or doll. Oh, God…”
His voice broke, and he hunched over, his face in his hands. “I should have explained to him that the villagers no longer employed that ceremony, that the potion did not need blood. I should have made him understand that it worked only there in that valley. But I did not realize that he meant to kill a child!”
He raised his head, his eyes wild with pain. “If only I had killed the bastard then, when I had the chance! But it wasn’t until after he took Caya with him that it occurred to me what he intended to do. She is the most beautiful child, the daughter of one of the Chosen. She would doubtless have grown to be chosen herself. He must have decided that the sacrifice should be of an Inca child, not some child here in London.” He let out a little groan. “God, for all I know, he might have tried doing this ceremony before with an English child, and it didn’t work. Now he is going to kill Caya!”
“He won’t,” Theo said firmly. “We will stop him.” He put his hand on Dennis’s shoulder, gripping it firmly.
“Yes. You are right. I cannot give in to panic. I have to stop him.” Dennis stood up. “Coffey will not have done it yet. He would wait for the full moon. There would be ceremonies leading up to it. But I cannot predict exactly what he will do. He has changed the ancient rituals to suit himself in many instances.” He looked at them, his hands knotting into fists. “Tonight is the full moon.”
“We shall move on it immediately,” Theo promised. He looked from Dennis to Megan. “We need to make plans.”
The others nodded, and Theo went on, “I think the most likely place for him to be hiding your daughter is at the museum.” He glanced at Megan. “That is probably why you got knocked on the head the night of the benefit. Caya was probably being held down in the cellar somewhere, and Coffey was afraid you might stumble upon her.”
Megan gasped as a memory flashed into her brain. “Yes! I just remembered. Oh, my God, how could I have forgotten?” Megan put her fingertips to her temples, pressing in. “I heard a noise. I was creeping along after Barchester when I heard a faint sound. I turned around, and that is when someone hit me over the head. But the sound I heard—it was crying. Faint and weak, but I am sure that is what it was. She must have been locked in a room nearby!”
Anguish filled her as she thought of how close she had been to her brother’s daughter and had not even known it. “If only I had done something!”
“You couldn’t have done anything,” Theo reassured her, taking her hand and bringing it tenderly to his lips. “Someone hit you and dragged you away. It is no wonder you did not remember every detail. Besides, by the time we found you, Coffey had probably whisked her away from there to a more secure hiding place. I doubt we would have found any sign of her.”
Megan squeezed his fingers in gratitude, then said, “But we cannot fail her now. We have to get her out. We should go to the authorities and tell them about this. They could search the museum.”
“Tell them what?” Dennis retorted in a scornful voice. “You think anyone else would believe this tale? Inca sacrifice? People who do not age? The police would laugh in our faces.”
“You’re right.” Megan nodded. “I would not believe it myself.”
“We must do it ourselves,” Theo said. “The question is whether to walk straight in and confront Coffey now with what we know and seize your daughter, or wait until tonight and sneak in and surprise them.”
“If we talk to him this afternoon, we run the risk of alerting him and letting him hide Caya someplace else,” Dennis pointed out.
“But if we wait until tonight, then we have to be completely certain that we have the right time and place. We cannot get there too late,” Megan put in.
“How many men will we be facing?” Dennis asked.
“I’m not sure. I would say there were perhaps fifteen to twenty people leaving the meeting last night.” Theo glanced at Megan for confirmation, and she nodded.
“And we are two,” Dennis said heavily. “But we will be armed and have the element of surprise.”
“We will be four,” Theo told him. “We can count on my brother Reed and Tom Quick to help us. Unfortunately, Rafe and Stephen have gone to the horse sales at Newmarket.”
“We will be five,” Megan corrected. “You did not count me in the mix.”
Dennis stared at her. “You cannot go!”
“I most certainly can, and I intend to. Surely you don’t think I’m going to let the two of you run off on your own and do this.”
“Megan!” Dennis expostulated. “It is too dangerous.”
“I am quite grown up now, and you don’t have to play the big brother anymore,” Megan retorted.
They began to talk over each other, and Theo crossed his arms and settled down to watch the two of them with an expression of amused interest.
But before they had gotten into a good wrangle, there was the sound of a commotion in the hallway and a footman’s voice raised in exclamations, and above it all floated a voice, with a thick Irish accent.
“Don’t you be telling me what I can or cannot do, you puffed-up, pompous little British—”
Another voice entered the fray. “Papa! Please. I am sure that Megan is all right.”
“Mr. Mulcahey.” This was an educated English accent, somewhat anxious sounding.
“Da!” Megan and Dennis exclaimed softly.
“And Barchester,” Theo added grimly.
“Devil take you, you’ll not be hiding me daughter from me!” Frank Mulcahey burst out.
“Bloody hell!” Theo muttered.
“It is better if Barchester does not see you,” Theo told Dennis. “He may be an innocent pawn, or he may be in it up to his eyeballs. You stay here. Megan and I will do our best to settle this.”
Taking Megan’s arm, Theo swept her out the door and into the hallway, closing the door to the breakfast room behind him. At the other end of the hall they saw the footman Robert, under siege yet again today, backing up slowly before Deirdre, Barchester and an enraged Frank Mulcahey.
“Da! What are you doing?” Megan exclaimed. “Stop attacking poor Robert.”
Robert turned, relief written clearly on his face, “Miss. My lord. I am terribly sorry….”
Theo’s mouth curved up into a half smile. “No need to apologize, Robert. I understand perfectly. It’s all right. You may go now.” His gaze turned to Frank Mulcahey, and he strode forward, extending his hand. “Mr. Mulcahey, I am pleased to make your acquaintance at last.”
Red flooded Mulcahey’s face, and he clenched his fist. For one anxious moment Megan was afraid that her father was going to launch himself at Theo. Instead, he shook his fist and roared, “Don’t you ‘Mr. Mulcahey’ me, you
spawn of the devil. You murdered my boy, and now you’ve sweet-talked my own daughter into turning against her family! Don’t think I don’t know your game! You won’t get away with it while I’ve breath in me body. I’ll—”
“Da! Hush!” Megan exclaimed, coming forward to join them. “No one has turned me against my family. No one could. You don’t know the facts, and you’re talking nonsense. Deirdre…help me.” She turned her gaze in appeal toward her sister.
“That is what we are trying to do,” Deirdre answered, looking troubled. “Mr. Barchester came to us and told us that you—”
“Ah, yes, Barchester.” Theo turned cold eyes on the man. “Clearly I can count on you to stick your hand in.”
“Aye, and it’s a good thing he did!” Frank retorted. “If he had not told us you had filled Megan’s head with nonsense, we wouldn’t have known to come rescue her. Let me tell you, you’re not holding my daughter here against her will. I am taking her with me.”
“Da! No one is holding me against my will. And no one has filled my head with nonsense. I’m not a child. It is Barchester who has been telling you lies. Theo did not kill Dennis.”
“Bah! Just like Andrew said you would say,” Frank retorted darkly. “How could you believe that murderer?”
“Because he told me the truth,” Megan replied simply. “Da, Deirdre, you know me. Am I the sort to swallow whatever lies anyone tells me?”
“No,” Mulcahey admitted. “But ’tis obvious that he is a canny bastard.”
“That is twice that you have insulted my parents, sir,” Theo said calmly. “In my own home.”
“Theo! Don’t you get up on your high horse, too,” Megan protested. “Da, I want you and Deirdre to sit down and listen to me. I don’t know what Mr. Barchester told you, but—”
“I went to Julian,” Barchester interrupted. “Miss Mulcahey, you have to listen to me. Julian told me what happened. He explained how Raine was probably drugging you.”
“Drugging me!”
“Yes,” Barchester replied earnestly. “You probably do not even realize it. It is easy to put something in one’s food or drink, and—”
“Yes, or in the tea one ingests during a ceremony,” Megan retorted.
Barchester paled. “What? How do you—”
“We know it all, Barchester,” Theo said firmly. “We know about the supposed ‘religion’ Coffey has been operating the past few years. About the tea you drink that produces visions—or does he keep that to himself, making you think his hallucinations are some special link he has to the otherworld?”
“You don’t know what you are talking about,” Barchester protested, but his voice was weak. “Julian is an extraordinary man….”
“What the devil are you talking about?” Megan’s father looked from Theo to Barchester, frowning. “What is all this blather about religion? The point is that you murdered my son, Moreland, and I am here to see you pay for that.”
“Julian Coffey is the one who stabbed Dennis and left him bleeding,” Theo replied. “Not I.”
“That’s a lie,” Barchester snapped.
“No,” said a voice behind them, and they all whirled around. Dennis was standing in the doorway. “No, Da, it is not a lie. Theo did not kill me. I am here and alive, as you can see. But Julian Coffey did his best to kill me. And tonight he intends to kill my daughter, unless we stop him.”
There was a moment of blank silence. Megan’s father and sister stared at Dennis, their faces paling visibly. Barchester looked almost as astonished. None of them could say a word. Theo spun around.
“Blast it, Den, Barchester could go to Coffey,” Theo told him.
“Not if we tie him up,” Dennis retorted. “I could not just hide there and let this go on.”
Dennis strode toward Frank and Deirdre. “Da. Dee. It’s me. I swear to you that Theo did not try to kill me. I came here because I trust Theo more than anyone else.”
With an inarticulate cry, Deirdre threw herself into Dennis’s arms, and Frank wrapped his arms around both of them. Andrew Barchester continued to look at the man as if he had been poleaxed. Theo circled around the group, positioning himself so that he was between Barchester and the door.
Finally the Mulcaheys released Dennis and stepped back, smiling and wiping away their tears. Frank turned and sent a sharp look at Megan. “You knew about this, and you didn’t tell us?”
“No! No! I was sure that Theo did not kill Dennis, but I did not know he was alive until just a few minutes ago, when he walked in the door,” Megan hastened to assure her father.
“I don’t understand,” Barchester said faintly. “Dennis…how…what…?”
“Why are you dressed that way?” Frank Mulcahey put in, puzzlement seeping into his happiness.
“I will tell you. I’ll explain everything. Let’s go in and sit down.”
Theo gestured toward the closest room to them, which turned out to be what the Morelands called the French salon, a large formally decorated room with an ornate marbled fireplace and furniture in the style of Louis XIV. The group shuffled into the room, with Theo carefully bringing up the rear. He closed the double doors behind him and, as they did not lock, stood with his back to them.
Everyone else sat down on the sofa and chairs in the center of the room, then turned expectantly to Dennis. He started his story again, telling them how Julian Coffey had tried to kill him, then had left him for dead.
“Are you sure it was Julian?” Barchester asked, frowning. “I mean, if he had on a mask…”
“It was Coffey,” Dennis told him flatly. “I spoke to him. I recognized his voice. It could not have been anyone else. The villagers did not speak English, and Theo was flat on his back with a fever out in the main cave. Besides, I have spoken to him several times since then. Obviously he wanted you to continue to think that I had died. That Theo had killed me. But Julian has known for years that I am still alive.”
He went on to describe Coffey’s continuing thefts from the village, though in a somewhat abbreviated version, leaving out much of what he had told Theo and Megan about the people of his village. He was interrupted frequently by exclamations and questions. When he reached the end, detailing his frantic trip to rescue his daughter, his father jumped up with a loud oath.
“That murderin’ bastard!” He glared at Barchester. “Have you no sense, man? Has this fellow Coffey pulled the wool over your eyes? Or are you in league with the devil?”
“No! I—I promise you!” Barchester looked shaken. He stared around the room at the others. “I had no idea! I cannot believe it. Julian is—he seems to be a great man. He has helped me, helped all of us. He has—I thought he had powers that no ordinary man could, that he was…sent.” He looked at them pleadingly. “He has talked about tonight, of course, how special and important it is. He—he even spoke of the possibility of sacrifice. In the past we have brought objects of value to give to the gods—gold and diamonds and things of that nature.”
Frank Mulcahey let out a snort. “Ah, you’re a green one, aren’t you? Gifts for the gods, in a pig’s eye. Gifts for Coffey.”
“He healed Lord Cavendish of pneumonia,” Barchester told him stiffly.
“And how did Lord Cavendish die?” Theo put in harshly. “Your great man Coffey told Dennis that he helped the old man along at Lady Cavendish’s request.”
“What?” Barchester’s eyes widened and he looked from one to the other. “No! That is impossible. Cavendish was old. Ill. It was a blessing that he finally died.”
“A blessing to Lady Cavendish,” Megan responded dryly.
Barchester turned to Dennis. “Are you sure? He told you that?”
“Yes. He told me a great deal about what he was doing. He is proud of the way he has deluded all of you into thinking he is all-powerful. The worst thing, though, is that now he is beginning to believe his own nonsense.”
“Oh, my God.” Barchester sank his head into his hands. “What have I done?” He raised his head and gazed
at Dennis bleakly. “He said the gods required blood. But he intimated that it would be an animal. A goat, like the Incas used. Surely he cannot mean to kill a child!”
“He can, and he will,” Dennis returned coldly, “if we do not stop him.”
“We will stop him,” Frank told him firmly. “We will go over there and get the girl from him.”
“Sorry, Barchester,” Theo told him. “I am afraid that we will have to lock you up. I will make sure you have a cot to lie on and water to drink. But we cannot let you loose to tell him.”
“I wouldn’t,” Barchester protested. “What kind of man do you think I am?”
“That I’m not sure of.”
Barchester looked abashed. “I know I have given you no reason to like me. I have been naive. Worse, I guess. I have gone along far too willingly in my own deception. I—let me try to make it up to you. Let me help you.”
“How?” Dennis and Theo regarded him with identically guarded expressions.
“I can get you inside. I will sneak you into the museum before the ceremony starts. I know where Julian keeps the keys. We can go down to the basement and find the room where he is keeping the girl, and get her out of there before the ceremony.”
Theo shook his head. “How can we trust you? How can we be sure you will not tell Coffey about our plans and help him hide the girl somewhere else?”
Barchester stiffened. “I give you my word as a gentleman.”
Theo arched a brow. “I don’t think that is good enough. Not when a girl’s life is as stake.”
“It would be helpful if he sneaked us in,” Dennis pointed out.
“Lock him up,” Frank suggested. “Don’t let him out until we are ready to go over there. That way he cannot give away our plans to Coffey. We can make sure that he leads us to your daughter.”
For the next hour or so, they hashed over their plans, until finally they settled on Frank’s suggestion of locking Barchester in a room until it was time to rescue Caya, then taking him with them to guide them. They decided to leave right after dark, when they would be less noticeable sneaking into the museum, but before the other participants started arriving for the ceremony.