The Complete 1st Freak House Trilogy: Box set (The 1st Freak House Trilogy)

by C. J. Archer

  The use of 'you' and not 'we' wasn't lost on me. Did he not include himself because he was already mad?

  There wasn't a lot of space in Tommy's room, so Sylvia sat on the chair beside the bed while I sat on the bed itself. Jack, Samuel and Bollard remained standing. Jack told them about the incantation and everything Culvert had instructed us to do, as well as our thoughts on who had summoned it.

  "Tate is the most likely suspect," Langley said.

  "He could have paid the builder to speak the words and hold the amulet," I said.

  Langley nodded. "We need to find out more about the man and who his associates were. Once the demon is caught and returned, you can venture into the village and speak to his widow. She may be able to identify Tate."

  "If it wasn't Tate, then who?" Samuel asked.

  We all looked to Langley. He shrugged.

  "Not even a suspicion?"

  His only answer was a sharp glare.

  "In the meantime," Sylvia said, "we have Ham to contend with too." She rubbed her arms and looked to her cousin. "When will it end?"

  "Soon, Syl. Don't worry, we're all set with the incantation."

  "What did Mrs. Dodd say?" Langley asked.

  Jack glanced at me. "She doesn't know how to find Tate. She did give us a clue as to why Tate is desperate to get Hannah though."

  Langley leaned forward. "Go on."

  "He's dying. We suspect the fire inside him is killing him somehow."

  "Dying?" Sylvia said. "Well, that's good news. I wonder how long he has."

  Nobody else spoke. Langley turned to me, his mouth slightly ajar, his face pale. Tommy eventually looked at me too. They'd made the connection.

  "What?" Sylvia said, frowning. "Why are you all staring at Hannah?"

  Part of me didn't want to tell her. She would be happier in her ignorance.

  "Well?"

  "If Tate is dying from the fire, then it means Hannah may be too," Langley said.

  Sylvia sat very still for a few moments. Then she shrugged and snorted. "No. Don't be absurd. Look at her. She's a picture of health. A little flushed and tired from her journey, but that's all. She cannot be dying. You're wrong, Uncle. You all are." She crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

  "We need to find a cure," Jack said to Langley, his tone urgent. "Set aside whatever you're working on. This takes priority."

  "A cure is what I've been working on," he snapped.

  Jack blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

  "I've been looking for a cure for you."

  "Me?"

  "Of course."

  "But…why?"

  Langley shrugged one shoulder. Behind him, Bollard shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but it was the only movement he made. Not even his eyes blinked. "The why isn't important," Langley said. I disagreed, but he continued to speak, not letting anyone else get a word in. "I don't know if I'm close, but I've been making progress. The cure was intended for you all along, but it should benefit Hannah too."

  "How close are you to finishing it?" Jack asked.

  Langley's gaze slipped to his tightly clasped hands in his lap.

  "August!" Jack shouted. "Answer me. How close are you?"

  "Not as close as I'd like." He looked up at me. "I'll be honest with you, Hannah. You do indeed look hotter and more tired. You need this cure soon, and it has all come as an immense surprise to me. If I'd known Reuben was dying, I could have worked harder. I'm sorry." His eyes closed and he shook his head. "I'm so sorry."

  I curled my fingers into the bedcovers and hung on. Everything was tilting and sliding: the room, the furniture….me. It was so surreal and didn't seem normal to hear Langley apologizing to me. He sounded sincere and worried. Like he cared. His frequent mood changes weren't my biggest concern, however. Not now.

  "It's all right," I heard myself say.

  "It's not bloody all right!" Jack shouted. He stood over his uncle, his fists glowing at his sides. "You have to cure her. Do you understand me! You have to find a cure or I'll…" The end of his sentence was lost in a choke. He strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  I rose and followed.

  CHAPTER 13

  I searched everywhere and eventually found Jack sitting in the window seat in my bedroom. He sat side-on, his knees drawn up, his elbow resting on them and his cheek in his hand. I pulled a chair over and sat down. I placed my hand near him on the seat, as close as I dared. I was so hot that touching him would have emitted an enormous spark and swell the fire in me to a dangerous level.

  "Jack, look at me," I said gently.

  He lowered his hand and turned. His eyes were red and swollen, his jaw clenched hard. His body was rigid and tight, as if he were holding himself together with sheer force of will. He rested his hand next to mine. Heat surged inside me, but I didn't move away. I needed the comfort of being close, and I suspected he needed it even more.

  "It'll be all right," I said. "Have faith."

  He closed his eyes and expelled a long breath. "It's hard," he muttered.

  "I know. But we have to believe I'll be cured. You have to believe it. If you don't, then it makes it even harder for me to have hope. Understand?"

  He opened his eyes and gave a slight nod. I didn't think his doubts and fears had miraculously disappeared, but it was a start. "You're a remarkable woman, Hannah Smith. I wish I had half as much courage as you."

  I didn't feel courageous or strong, just desperate and so very scared. At least I knew now that I wasn't alone. "Langley is the foremost microbiologist in the country," I teased. "Perhaps the world. He can do this."

  That almost raised a smile from him. "I do agree that if someone will find a cure, it'll be him."

  "You had no idea he was looking for a cure for you?"

  He shook his head. "I'm stunned. He never gave any indication. I'm not even sure why he's trying. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing wrong with me. I can control the fire."

  "I agree," I said with a smile. "There's nothing wrong with you."

  "No? So you don't think I'm stubborn? Temperamental?"

  "Yes, but those traits are ones I can live with."

  "Not everyone finds them as insignificant as you."

  "Are you talking about Miss Charity? Because I warn you, I'll grow jealous."

  "Really? You're jealous of her?" He leaned forward, his mouth very close to mine. His breath fanned my lips. "You don't need to be. Anyone who can put up with me like you do deserves my undying devotion."

  I pushed him in the shoulder and received a shock up my arm for my carelessness. I jerked back.

  Jack pulled away. "Are you hurt?"

  "No," I said, rubbing my hand where a tingling sensation lingered. "But I should be more careful."

  "Do you feel hotter?"

  "A little." I felt a lot hotter, but I didn't want to worry him. "I want to speak to Langley," I said. "We haven't told him everything Mrs. Dodd said."

  "There are a lot of unanswered questions, but I'm not sure now is a good time."

  "You think we should leave him alone to work?"

  He nodded. "Nothing should distract him."

  "But I've just discovered he has a heart after all. I thought we could ask him about you and me as babies. Come on, Jack. I know you want to know as much as I do. We'll be quick."

  He gave me a grim smile. "I'm not very good at saying no to you."

  We walked together down the hall to Langley's rooms. Bollard opened the door and Langley sat at his desk, bent over a ledger filled with densely scrawled figures.

  "What is it?" he asked, gruff. Any sympathy and concern he'd showed earlier was gone. He was back to being the Langley I knew, but now I wondered if that was a mask. Why he wore one, I couldn't say.

  "There are some things we need to know," Jack said.

  "Ah. Mrs. Dodd. I was wondering when you were going to bring her up. I thought perhaps you'd forgotten what with all Hannah's problems."

  "It's something of a di
version for us right now," I said. "Why did you let us look for her knowing she may say certain things you didn't want discovered?"

  "Perhaps a better question would be, why didn't you just tell us everything in the first place?" Jack snapped. "Well?"

  "I let you go for precisely the reason I gave at the time—she was our only link to Tate, albeit a tenuous one. It was necessary that you speak to her and learn what you could about his whereabouts. I admit that I'd hoped neither of you would connect her to your own pasts, but it seems you did. Indeed, I wasn't even sure you'd find her. If the police couldn't, how did you?"

  "The last known address that Weeks gave us was where her sister worked," Jack said. "She knew where Mrs. Dodd had gone, although she was reluctant to tell us or the police. Gladstone persuaded her."

  Langley's gaze switched to Bollard, still standing behind me at the door. I turned, but Bollard's face was blank.

  Jack pressed his knuckles on the desk and leaned over. "Give us some answers, August."

  "I will," Langley conceded with a nod.

  "Mrs. Dodd told us about baby Hannah and baby Jack, although neither of us had names then. She also told us about Hannah's namesake. Who was the original Hannah Smith?"

  "A friend of Wade's."

  Of all the possible things I'd considered, that wasn't one of them. "Did he name me Hannah Smith in memory of her?"

  "I've never spoken to him about it," he said. "I only learned your name when you told us yourself upon arriving here. I suspect you were named after her, though."

  "Why?" Jack asked. "What significance does she have?"

  "They were good friends."

  "Lovers?"

  Langley shrugged. "You'd have to ask him that."

  "Mrs. Dodd said she heard you and Tate arguing about Hannah Smith," Jack said. "Why?"

  "She…she was the sort of person men argued over."

  Now that certainly wasn't the answer I'd expected to hear in light of what Mrs. Dodd had told us about Tate's preference for men over women. Perhaps she'd been mistaken. Or perhaps Langley was being deliberately evasive. Again.

  "How did I come to live with you?" Jack asked him.

  "Your father gave you to me."

  "Your brother?" I asked.

  He lifted his gaze to mine then turned it on Jack. "No. You're not my nephew, but I suspect you already knew that."

  Jack sat heavily in a chair near the desk. Like me, he probably hadn't expected an honest answer. "I suspected. Who is my father?"

  "That's not important."

  "It is to me."

  He glanced past me to Bollard. I turned and saw the mute signing something with his hands. When he finished, he let them drop to his sides again. His expression hadn't changed. Langley shook his head, but whether it was in response to Bollard or Jack, I wasn't sure.

  "Your father doesn't want you to know," Langley said. "He swore me to secrecy, and I will oblige him."

  I heard Bollard move behind me, but when I turned to look he seemed to be in exactly the same position, with exactly the same bland expression on his face. I wasn't sure how any of this affected him, but he seemed far more animated in this conversation than I'd ever seen him before.

  Jack sat back in his chair and shook his head slowly. "I can't believe you won't tell me."

  "I'm sorry," Langley said. "It's not my wish, but his."

  I went to stand beside Jack and rested my hand on the arm of his chair to offer some measure of comfort. "Why did his father bring Jack to you?"

  "He thought we could cure him of the fire."

  "But you couldn't."

  Jack rose and indicated I should take the chair. I sat and watched Langley closely. So far he seemed mostly unmoved by the conversation and a little distracted. Perhaps what he'd just learned about me was playing on his mind.

  "Mrs. Dodd said the authorities took me away," Jack said, skirting the role she'd had in the event. "How did you find me again?"

  "I searched everywhere, and eventually learned you'd been adopted by a family. The Cutlers. They were nice people. Normal. I watched them with you on outings. They seemed to care for you and you looked happy. I never once saw your fire, and there was only the one report of a blaze at their residence in those years. So I left you with them and never returned. I believe they died when you were two or three."

  "I don't remember them. What happened to me?"

  He shrugged. "The Cutlers had no family to take you in. Perhaps you were put into an orphanage, or maybe you just slipped through the system. It happens. If I'd known they'd died, I would have come for you myself."

  "Why did you come looking for me eight years ago?"

  "I heard a strange story about a boy who could shoot fire from his fingers just by pointing. I hired enquiry agents and they found you. I knew you were my friend's boy when I heard the name Cutler."

  "So you took him back in," I said. It was quite a remarkable story. Not that Langley had found him, but that he'd searched for him. Worried about him. Wanted him to be happy with real parents and no fire. I was very much in danger of believing Langley truly did care.

  "Don't think anything sentimental about it, Hannah," Langley said, bursting my happy bubble. "He was a danger to others. When he was a baby, he couldn't control the fire. He was much too young. It wasn't until he came to live with me later that I realized he could now that he'd grown."

  "Well, that in itself is reason to think you're a kind man, Mr. Langley. No matter how cantankerous you pretend to be, I no longer believe it."

  "Don't jump to conclusions too soon," Jack muttered.

  Behind me, I could swear Bollard made a noise that could have been either a laugh or a grunt or just a clearing of his throat.

  "This isn't a joke," Langley said. "Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do."

  "Just one more thing," Jack said, rising. "The compound that Tate injected into himself to give him the fire, did it come from me?"

  Langley nodded.

  I gasped. "You let him do that to a baby?"

  "I didn't let him do anything, Hannah. He just did it. Rest assured, Jack wasn't harmed. A few pricks here and there to test his blood, then a needle in the arm. He probably screamed for a few seconds until it was out. I don't know. Reuben only conducted his experiments when I wasn't there. He knew my thoughts on the matter didn't align with his."

  "It sounds awful," I muttered.

  "Now will you two leave me in peace?"

  We left, and as I passed Bollard, I noticed him watching Jack with a strange expression. It wasn't blank, as usual, but it was difficult to decipher nevertheless. Curiosity perhaps.

  "What do you think of that?" I asked Jack as we walked along the corridor.

  "I think he still hasn't told us everything."

  "No, but it's a start."

  "I wish I knew who my real parents were."

  "Do you think he'll ever tell you?"

  "No." He glanced over his shoulder back the way we'd come. "But that doesn't mean I can't find out some other way."

  "How?"

  "Don't worry about it," he said.

  I stopped. "You're going to break into his rooms? Jack!"

  "Shhh. Hannah, I have to find out. I hate not knowing." He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. "This must have come from one of them."

  "And what if you find out something about them you don't like? He already said your father didn't want to be known to you. Perhaps there's a good reason for that and not knowing is better."

  "I don't care. There may not be any records of my parents anyway, but I have to try to find out." He strode off. I sighed and watched him go.

  "Remember how I said your stubbornness doesn't trouble me?" I called after him, hands on hips. "I take it back."

  He turned around and grinned as he walked back. "Dearest Hannah, you wound me."

  "If I could touch you, I'd thump you right now."

  "And if I could touch you, I'd…" He sighed. "Never mind. Those thoughts are best le
ft unsaid otherwise I'll need to go for a swim."

  I fanned my heating face with my hand. "I'm beginning to think I need to learn how to swim too."

  ***

  Dinner was indeed an interesting affair. Fortunately the cook had prepared a day's worth of food for us, but Sylvia still needed to warm it up in the oven. She enlisted Jack's help but wouldn't let Tommy or me into the kitchen. We both needed to rest, apparently. I sat in Tommy's room with Samuel until Jack fetched us when dinner was ready.

  "What are you both doing?" he said with a frown at us. "Gladstone, you're not helping. They should both be resting."

  "You sound like Sylvia," I said.

  That only deepened his frown. "It's not a joke, Hannah."

  "No amount of rest is going to cure me."

  His face twisted. His eyes darkened. He spun round and stalked off down the corridor. I raced after him.

  "Slow down," I called. He opened the door leading to the main part of the house, but didn't go through, nor did he turn around.

  "Jack, I…" I didn't know what to say. I wasn't sorry for attempting to take everybody's mind off the facts. "I need you all to be as normal as possible."

  "Normal," he bit off. "How can I pretend as if nothing's wrong?" He leaned his forehead against the door. "I'm losing you, Hannah. You're slipping away from me and I can't…I can't be without you. I just can't."

  His words shocked me to the core. I knew he cared for me, but this…it was more than I'd ever hoped for. He was handsome and strong, caring and capable. I was just a freckly redhead who'd spent most of her life in an attic and set things on fire without meaning to. Yet this man harbored deep feelings for me.

  "I can't even hold you," he murmured so quietly I almost missed it.

  I moved up behind him, but it took all my strength not to wrap my arms around his waist and press my cheek to his back.

  "One day you will," I said. "Langley will find a cure."

  He raked both hands through his hair, down his face, and lowered his head. His shoulders shook. If only I could flatten my palms to them and lend him some of the certainty I felt in Langley's abilities. I hovered very close, but soon even that became too much, too hot. I stepped back.