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

by C. J. Archer

  Myer leaned forward ever so slightly. He hadn't known about Jack's fire starting, only the speed. It would seem that secret of Jack's was out now too.

  "He's unaffected," I said. "But of course he was born with the fire inside him. We weren't. We shouldn't have it at all. If it weren't for your mad desire for power, Mr. Tate, neither of us would be in this predicament." Passing judgment was a pointless exercise, but I couldn't help it. Besides, I think I had a right to vent.

  "It wasn't a desire to be powerful, Miss Smith." He spat out my name as if it burned his tongue. "What I desired was knowledge. It's a scientist's curse, the same as any explorer who sets off across oceans. We want to chart uncharted lands. We want to know what exists beyond the known. Don't let that pathetic excuse for a man tell you otherwise."

  "August Langley?"

  "That unfaithful cripple is as useless between the ears as he is between the legs."

  Myer cleared his throat and held up his hands. "I say, Mr. Tate, there's no call for—"

  "Don't interrupt me!" Sparks burst from Tate's fingertips onto the carpet at Myer's feet.

  "Bloody hell!" Myer shot out of his chair and danced on the smoldering patches of carpet. Fortunately the pile was thick and woolen. The damage was minimal, and the small scorch marks blended in with the busy pattern.

  Myer did not return to his chair immediately. He stood in the center of our triangle and blinked at Tate, then at me, as if he were seeing us both for the first time. Now that he'd gotten over his initial shock, he seemed more curious than anything.

  Tate wiped away the spittle in the corner of his mouth. "You may sit down now, Myer. It's quite safe."

  Myer sat. "That was…illuminating. Miss Smith, you didn't seem frightened in the least by his outburst."

  "I can't be burned," I said. "Besides, I had warning. His fingers turned red. The signs are obvious when you know what to look for."

  "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

  Tate snickered. "There won't be a next time, unless you make me angry. I would advise against it. That…" He waved a hand at the carpet. "…was nothing."

  I shelved my next question based on his advice, but it refused to be forgotten entirely: why did Tate refer to Langley as unfaithful? It seemed an odd choice of words for laboratory partners, particularly when coupled with the crude reference to his manhood.

  Did it have something to do with Tate's preference for the love of men over women? Had he been in love with Langley?

  Had Langley once been in love with him?

  Oh. Oh my. It suddenly made sense. Langley's refusal to tell anyone why they'd fallen out, the fierce resentment between them. I also recalled Tate having very few nice things to say about Bollard, the man who was Langley's valet, assistant, friend…and lover? The lover who'd replaced him perhaps?

  It was all so extraordinary that I momentarily forgot why I was visiting Tate and merely stared at him. He must have said something because he prompted me with, "Well?"

  "Er, pardon," I said. "I missed your question."

  He rummaged through his damp, stringy white hair and huffed out a loud breath. "May we go now?"

  "Not yet. First, tell me in detail what it is you wish to do to me."

  "Have you learned nothing of the scientific process from Langley?"

  "Mr. Tate, were you always this rude, or is it a new habit?'

  "Christ," he muttered. "Save me from insufferable idiots."

  "I'd rather be an idiot than mad."

  "Mr. Tate, Miss Smith," Myer cut in. "Might I suggest that these barbs aren't helping to speed matters."

  Tate blew out another breath and settled his limp gaze on me. "I'm going to inject you with various remedies I've prepared and study the results."

  "These injections…could they kill me?"

  He seemed to weigh up his next words carefully. "I hope not."

  I dug my fingernails into the soft leather arms of the chair. His casual disregard for my life turned up the heat inside me. "Let's be clear. Do you have any idea how your remedies will perform? Any idea at all?"

  "I've tested them on my own blood samples and have had some promising results, but that's not enough. I need a human study, and you, my dear, are it."

  I pressed my lips together. They were cracked and rough. "Can you guarantee the remedies at least won't make me worse?"

  Again the weighty silence before he answered. "I can."

  Only a fool would have believed him. "Mr. Tate, have you considered sharing your findings with Lang—"

  "Don't!" He slammed his hand down on the armchair. A single spark shot violently from his index finger and landed on my skirt. I batted it out before it could catch alight. "I won't go near that man."

  "You're dying, and you won't even consider working with him? Is your jealousy that strong?"

  He lifted his chin. "I'd rather die with my pride, Miss Smith. It's all I have left. That man destroyed everything else."

  "Not your life. The compound you injected into yourself from Jack is doing that." I shook my head. "I don't understand you, Mr. Tate. You would choose death over a rivalry? A broken heart?"

  "Sometimes you shouldn't give in to base-born bullies. It makes them stronger. That remedy that we sold for a vault full of money? It was mine." He stabbed a finger into his chest. "I was the one who discovered it. I put in countless hours of effort while he was dallying behind my back with that lumbering imbecile. But because of our agreement, August was able to sell it and keep most of the proceeds. I received a pittance. So yes, I would rather die than give him this remedy too. I won't let him take the glory a second time."

  His claim was in contrast to Langley's own statements on the matter, but I wasn't about to argue. "What glory? It's not a commercially viable drug. You and I are the only market for it."

  He had edged forward in his chair, and now he sat back, slumping a little, as if he could no longer hold himself upright. He stared into the fireplace and rubbed his palm along the chair arm.

  Myer uncrossed his legs and re-crossed them. He didn't meet my gaze either.

  "I understand now," I whispered. "The Society wants it, don't they?" I didn't know whether I was speaking to Myer or Tate or both. But I did know that I was right. The way they avoided looking at me was enough of a clue. "You're going to use the compound from Jack to give ordinary people this…this curse of a disease, then provide them with the antidote when it begins to consume them years later."

  It was so diabolical that I almost couldn't fathom it. I should have run out of the room, but my limbs felt too heavy to move. I would have tripped over my leaden feet.

  "Now, Miss Smith," Myer said, soothing. "Calm yourself. There's no call for such frenzied words." He did look me in the eyes then, and I felt the familiar dizzying sensation, the feeling of having my thoughts smothered by a thick blanket.

  He was hypnotizing me.

  CHAPTER 12

  I tore my gaze away from Myer before he completely took over my mind. It wasn't an easy thing to do. His voice was like a beautiful song I wanted to listen to again and again. It was comforting, and made me feel special, desired, like I mattered. A very heady, powerful thing indeed.

  I forced myself to stand, but it took a great deal of will and physical effort. I also kept my eyes lowered. "Do not hypnotize me, Mr. Myer." I pulled out a small knife from my reticule. I'd stolen it from the kitchen before I left.

  Neither Myer nor Tate seemed particularly worried that I'd stab them, but neither approached me either.

  "Miss Smith, I wasn't going to hypnotize you," Myer said. "I simply wanted to assure you that there is nothing nefarious in the Society's plan to purchase the compound or the cure. We wish to study it, that's all. We seek to understand the supernatural."

  "And use it? That's far too dangerous, Mr. Myer. You know that. And you lied to us about not knowing Tate. Clearly you do."

  "I concede that I haven't always told the truth. It's a long habit of mine, and difficult to break. Ple
ase, sit down again and be rational."

  "No!" Tate shouted. "No more sitting. Let's go. I've work to do."

  I tightened my grip on the knife. My hands were slick with sweat, and I worried that I wouldn't be able to keep hold of it if I had to stab one of them. "This meeting is over, Mr. Tate. I'll put my faith in Mr. Langley finding a cure in time."

  He spluttered a laugh, sending spittle flying onto the floor much like the sparks. Then he realized I was serious and he sobered. "Miss Smith…what choice is there?" Panic made his voice high. "I told you Langley is useless. I'm offering you the potential to be cured!"

  "I need more than potentials, Mr. Tate. I need certainties. I don't see any point in shortening my life further based on hope." I backed up to the door, away from both men. "It seems that hope has made me do too many foolish things already." Foolish to trust Myer, foolish to meet Tate, foolish not to tell Jack where I was going.

  "Stop her," Tate ordered Myer.

  "No," Myer said. "I won't hold her against her will."

  "I'm doing this for you too!" Tate's face turned pink, but I didn't think it was rage that fueled him. His fingers weren't red, only his face. He was scared and desperate.

  Myer turned on him. "We don't want anyone to lose their life over this. She must come with you willingly, or not at all. I, or any other member of the Society, will not stand by and let you destroy her. I'm sorry."

  "You promised!"

  "I promised to bring her, not that she'd comply."

  How could he have promised such a thing when I wasn't even certain that I would come myself until yesterday? There was no time to consider it. I felt behind me for the door handle and turned it.

  "Hypnotize her!" Tate cried. "Make her stay!"

  Myer shook his head.

  Tate looked as if he wanted to claw Myer's eyes out. While he was preoccupied with his building rage, I opened the door and ran out to the landing. I picked up my skirts and raced down the stairs to the relative safety of the taproom. The five men looked up from their ales and the proprietor set down the glass he'd been drying.

  "Everything all right, miss?" he asked.

  "Yes, thank you. Is there somebody who can drive me back to Frakingham?"

  The proprietor's gaze shifted to the stairs behind me. I turned to see Myer descending them. I quickly looked away.

  "It's all right, Miss Smith," he said softly when he was one step above me. "I won't hypnotize you or harm you."

  "Where's Tate?"

  "Sitting calmly, waiting for me to bring him out of his trance. He was too upset to have the good sense to look away in time. Unlike you."

  "Stay away from me, Mr. Myer," I hissed.

  "Miss Smith." He smiled gently, as if indulging a child. "I could easily hypnotize everyone in this room and abduct you. But I won't. As I said upstairs, we at the Society are keen to learn more about all sorts of supernatural phenomena, including Mr. Tate's compound, but not to the point of harming anyone. You're quite safe with me."

  "Nevertheless, we'll part company here."

  He took my hand and bowed over it. "As you wish. I'll give you fifteen minutes to leave safely, then I'll set Tate free of the trance. Be sure to be long gone by then. I can't control him forever."

  He climbed back up the stairs, and I left the Red Lion with one of the men who offered to drive me to Frakingham in his rickety old cart. Unlike the farmer who'd driven me in, this one wanted to chat. I politely told him I had a headache and would he please mind urging his horse to go as fast as possible. He complied with a shrug, and we drove the rest of the way in blessed silence.

  ***

  I'd hoped that Jack would still be out and that Sylvia would think me still napping. Neither was the case.

  Jack met me half way down the drive, having either heard the cart's approach or seen it from one of the upper windows. His face was a riot of emotions, each one as raw as the next. He didn't try to hide them. Perhaps he couldn't.

  Relief came first when he spotted me beside the driver. He ran toward us. His speed scared the horse. It shied and almost took us completely off the drive into the grass. The driver pulled on the reins and Jack grabbed the bridle, steadying the creature. It stopped, but the ears twitched frantically and the muscles in its shoulder quivered. Jack pressed his forehead to the glossy neck and murmured something in its ear. When the horse had calmed, and Jack had too, he let go. I hopped off the cart, landing just in front of him.

  He kept his hands behind his back. The stance squared his broad shoulders even more, and somehow made him appear taller. He towered over me, but wasn't intimidating. He was shaking, just as the horse had been. I wanted to press my forehead to his neck and whisper calming words in his ear. It would have to remain a wish only.

  "Thank you," I said to the driver and watched as he turned the cart around and drove off. I was acutely aware that Jack hadn't spoken. His silence was like a mountain range between us, formidable and near impossible to scale.

  I tried anyway. "Jack…" I wasn't sure what to say so I chose the safest course. "When did you notice I was gone?"

  "An hour ago."

  "Oh. That long."

  His eyes flared, their green orbs bright despite the dull day. "It was the longest hour of my life." He closed his eyes and sucked in air. The force of his breathing rocked him back on his heels. "Did Tate take you? Or…"

  "I left of my own accord to meet with him."

  He opened his eyes. Their color was like nothing I'd ever seen before, a blend of gray and green so dark as to be almost black. "You left. To meet with Tate." He spoke as if his jaw was wired shut. He may have been relieved before, but now he was furious. With me.

  I swallowed. Nodded. I was saved from explaining myself by the arrival of both Samuel and Sylvia. They ran along the drive, calling my name. Sylvia's face was red and swollen from crying, and she was still crying as she folded me into a hug.

  "Oh, Hannah. We've been frantic." She sobbed into my hair. I rubbed her back and murmured all the things I'd wanted to say to Jack.

  "What happened?" Samuel asked, his hand on my shoulder. "Tate?"

  I drew away from Sylvia and handed her a handkerchief from my reticule. "I went to meet Myer and Tate in Harborough."

  Sylvia gasped and dropped the handkerchief.

  "What?" Samuel roared. "Hannah, are you mad?"

  "That's one explanation for it."

  "Don't joke," he snapped. "Bloody hell. I can't believe you let us go through that…" He trailed off with a cautious glance in Jack's direction.

  Jack stood there like a marble statue. Only the ends of his hair moved as the breeze whispered through it. His hands were still behind his back and his eyelids half-shuttered.

  "We've been searching all over the house and estate for you," Sylvia said. "Jack was…we were in a panic. Even Uncle and Bollard took up the search, all of the servants too. We've been terrified. Absolutely terrified. And you went on purpose!"

  "I'm sorry," I whispered. My heart felt like it was trying to squeeze through my ribs and get away. I wanted to rip it out.

  "Why, Hannah?" Sylvia asked, her voice small. "Why didn't you tell us? Why did you go? Why…?"

  Nothing I could say would make them any less angry with me, or help them to understand. How could they, when they all believed Langley could cure me? I'd thought perhaps Jack might, but he was a pillar of simmering fury. I'd thought he could never be angry with me. It would seem I'd been wrong.

  "I had to," was all I said, offering a pathetic shrug.

  He spun on his heel and stalked off, not in the direction of the house, but toward the lake. I went after him, but his long, determined strides were fast, and I was exhausted from the journey. Nevertheless, I picked up my skirts and ran as best as I could.

  My chest hurt before I'd gone more than a few yards and my legs felt like logs, heavy and cumbersome. I wasn't really running at all, more dragging my body across the grass.

  I stumbled over something—or perhaps i
t was only my own foot—and fell to the ground in an unladylike heap with my skirts up around my knees. Mud caked my dress, shoes, hands and even my hair. It had fallen out of its arrangement and tumbled around my face in a damp tangle, my hat nowhere to be seen.

  I was a mess. A pathetic, horrible, cruel mess who should have kept her friends abreast of her plans. I wanted to sink into the earth and bury myself there until the wave of hopelessness had washed over me and all was forgiven.

  But that wasn't going to happen. I'd done something unforgiveable.

  I cried instead. I didn't want to. I didn't want to make a scene or have Jack hate me either, but I didn't have the power to make any of those things stop. All I wanted was to wrap my arms around him and tell him I loved him, that I did what I did because I wanted to be with him forever. But I couldn't. I sat there and sobbed, my tears dripping onto the already sodden ground.

  I heard footsteps come up behind me—Samuel and Sylvia—then retreat as another approached. Jack. He'd come back.

  I didn't want to look up at him, didn't want him to see my face.

  He sat beside me despite the mud and scrunched a piece of my skirt in his fist, as if anchoring himself. He swept my hair off my shoulder, careful not to touch me. "Hannah." My name was a mere sigh from his lips. "Shhh, my sweet. Don't cry."

  "I don't want you to be angry with me."

  "Then I won't be." He wound a lock of my hair around his finger and gently tugged, urging me to look up at him.

  I wiped my face with my skirt and blinked away the blurriness. Pain pulled at his mouth and drew deep lines across his forehead. It brought shadows to his eyes and made the muscles in his jaw tense. He swallowed. "I thought you knew that I'd do anything for you, Hannah. I would have taken you if it's what you wanted."

  I swiped my cheeks as more tears spilled. I just couldn't seem to control the blasted things. "He wouldn't have seen me with you present."

  "I would have found a way."

  Perhaps, but I wasn't up to arguing the point, and I suspected he wasn't either. He looked down at my skirt where his hand grasped the silk near my thigh. He slowly uncurled his fingers and released it.