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

by C. J. Archer

  "I don't want to die, Jack," I whispered.

  His head jerked up. "You're not going to die. You're not."

  It was easier to stay silent. My tears had drained me, and I felt hotter than ever. I was no longer confident that either Tate or Langley would discover a cure, but I couldn't shatter his conviction. It would be too cruel.

  "I won't let you," he murmured, lowering his head so that I couldn't see his face. "If you go… I can't…" It would seem that conviction was a mask, and a broken one at that.

  It was hell not being able to touch him. I didn't want much, just to cup his cheek would have been sufficient.

  "Come with me," I said, getting up. I didn't turn around to see if he followed. I slipped off my shoes at the edge of the lake and walked into the shallows.

  The icy water bit into my skin, like the needle on Langley's syringe, but infinitely colder and more soothing. I sighed and gathered up my skirts then sat down on the stony bottom so that only my head was above the surface. Jack stood beside me, the water lapping at his knees. I reached up and took his hand. Heat flared, but there were no sparks. He sat and the heat dimmed a little, although it didn't fade altogether.

  I was finally able to hold his face in my hands. I dared not kiss him. Not after the last time when our kiss had sparked something so intense it had almost killed us.

  He turned his head slightly and pressed his lips to my wrist. I sighed and almost lost my nerve for what I needed to say. Almost.

  "Jack, listen to me." I withdrew my hands, but he grabbed one and closed it tightly in both of his. "Jack, you will go on after I'm gone."

  He jerked his head as if I'd slapped him. "Hannah, I don't want to discuss it."

  "We're going to. We have to." I pulled my hand free and held it up when he began to protest. "I know everything is topsy turvy right now."

  "That's putting it mildly."

  "But you're twenty-two, Jack. Too young to give up on a happy future."

  "If you're not here—"

  "Don't. People move on from loss. They do, given time and good company."

  "Good company!" he barked. "You think I'll stop mourning you if I find myself another girl who is 'good company'? Christ, Hannah, that's absurd. If you think what I feel for you is replaceable, you're wrong. It's not." He clutched his wet shirt at the water line, near his heart. "This feeling won't go away after you die. If you die," he corrected. "It's not temporary or breakable, it just is."

  My hands began to shake, so I sat on them. I had to tell him how I felt. Otherwise, he might never be able to move on. And he must. I loved him too much to have him suffer endlessly, thinking he owed me something, or feeling guilty because he'd thought he would love me forever.

  "Don't speak so hastily. Your thoughts on the matter may change. I've seen how you are with Charity, for instance, and—"

  "Charity! Is that what this is about?" He threw his hands up, splashing water in two perfect arcs that plopped back into the lake.

  "I saw you together at the ball. There are feelings between you. Don't deny it," I said when he opened his mouth. He shut it again and gave me an arched, impatient look. "She'll be good for you. She's lively and clever, and I can see that she cares for you just as much as you care for her. Don't push her away because of any loyalty you feel to me. Don't reject happiness, Jack."

  "Are you quite finished?" His face was only inches from mine. I could feel his breath on my lips and see the different shades of green flecks in his eyes. "You are an infuriating woman, Hannah Smith. First of all, you're not going to die. Second of all, I don't love Charity, and she doesn't love me. I've told you that, but in your stubbornness, you seem to have forgotten."

  "I haven't," I snapped. "But you do care for her and she for you. That friendship may bloom into something more again, as long as you allow it. That's what I'm trying to tell you. You must let it. If the feelings are there, let her into your heart. Don't lock her out. It won't be disloyal to me or anything like that."

  "This is absurd. I'm not discussing this with you, because my last point is the same as my first: you're not going to die."

  If he could cure me out of sheer force of will, I had no doubt I would have been cured at that moment. His conviction was absolute. His determination palpable. I didn't bother to counter him. It seemed too unfair to take away his hope.

  "I saw you two in conversation at the ball," I said. "It was very…intimate."

  His lips twitched into a sudden, unexpected smile. "You're jealous."

  "I am not."

  The smile faded and he sighed. "I'll admit that I'm worried about her. Her life hasn't been easy, and she's troubled. I want to help her, but…" He shrugged and looked away.

  "But what?"

  "But she doesn't want my help. She doesn't quite trust me."

  "Because you burned her."

  He seemed surprised that I knew.

  "I guessed," I said. "I saw the burn marks on the backs of her hands. What happened?"

  "Charity was—is—popular with men. Sometimes she attracts the wrong sort of man. When we were younger I tried to extricate her from an encounter with one so-called gentleman after he beat her, but things didn't go as planned. I used my fire."

  I sucked in air between my teeth. "Did he die?"

  He inclined his head in a nod, and shadows passed across his eyes. "Her hands were burned in the process. She's never quite gotten over it. We were responsible for a man's death. He was evil, but still… She witnessed a man burn to death that day."

  "So did you," I whispered.

  "She blamed herself, and me too, although she never said so. She became a little afraid of me afterward. It wasn't immediately obvious, and still isn't, but it's there. It's the foundation of the wall she's built around herself."

  "Is that why you don't want to use your fire on anyone who could suffer from it?"

  He swallowed hard. "I still remember his screams, the smell of his flesh. They're not things that can be easily forgotten. I won't do that to another human being again unless I have to."

  "Did the police ever find out?"

  He shook his head. "The building also caught alight. We left his body there and escaped. It was reported that he died in the blaze. Nobody knew how it started."

  "Jack." I touched his cheek again, but there was nothing I could do or say to banish the haunted look in his eyes.

  "That incident bound Charity and me together forever, but it also drove a wedge between us. Our friendship hasn't been the same since. I tried talking to her about it at the ball for the hundredth time, but she wouldn't discuss it." He took my hand and linked his fingers in mine. "So don't try to push Charity and me together, Hannah. It won't work. I don't love her the way I love you. I never have."

  My throat swelled. I couldn't swallow or speak, only nod. He loved me. I knew it, yet that was the first time he'd actually said it.

  He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, then sank back into the lake. He disappeared underwater for a few moments. I took that time to compose myself and wipe away the fresh tears before he saw them. It would seem there was nothing I could do to assure he had a happy, full future. Except live.

  When he sat up again, my voice was strong enough to use. "If she didn't want to discuss it at the ball, why did she write to you beforehand?"

  He frowned. "That letter was about one of the boys in her care at the school. She was worried about his behavior and asked me for advice. That's all."

  It was my turn to frown. "But you were so distracted after reading it. Angry even. Everybody noticed."

  His face darkened. "That had nothing to do with the contents of Charity's letter. Indeed, it was another letter that troubled me. One I found in August's room."

  "From when you sneaked in!" I remembered now. It was the night before Charity's letter arrived. I'd linked his distraction and later anger to her missive, not to what he may have discovered. "Who was it from? What did it say? And why didn't you tell me you found something impor
tant?"

  "I didn't want to give you any more burdens than you already have to bear."

  "Oh, Jack." I took his hands in mine and kissed the knuckles. "Stop being a hero and just tell me."

  He grinned. "Yes, ma'am." The grin faded. "The letter was from Lord Wade, addressed to August. I found it in the safe he brought from his old rooms."

  "You broke into it!"

  "I have the combination. August gave it to me when I took over the running of the estate. It contains financial deeds and other documents, but he's always been present when I've opened it, and I'd never inspected everything inside. I found the letter from Wade at the back. It mentioned arrangements for the delivery of a baby. At first I thought it was discussing you, but soon realized it wasn't. The baby was being delivered to August and from Wade, not the other way round. It was also dated three years earlier."

  "You," I murmured. "You were the baby."

  "Yes, although I was not named. The baby was a boy and was able to start fires. Evidence enough."

  "Why did Lord Wade have you in the first place?"

  "It didn't say, but I think…I think I'm his son."

  My stomach plunged to my toes. I stared at him, trying to see the resemblance. They were of a similar height, and Wade was powerfully built like Jack, but that's where the likeness ended. "Lady Wade's too?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know for certain, but I doubt it. Do you remember when he told us he had a child by a mistress?"

  "Yes. He said it died."

  "It may have been a lie to cover his tracks."

  "Do you think he knew who you were when he came here?" That would have been heartless indeed if Wade had known he was in the presence of his son and not acknowledged it.

  "No. My guess is August told him he gave me away to the Cutlers as a baby and never mentioned that he'd taken me in again years later. I haven't spoken to him about it."

  "It might be time to do just that."

  "I tried to ask Wade when he was here that day with Violet, but he refused to give me any answers. In fact, I think he was too shocked when he saw the fire on my fingers."

  "You showed him?"

  "It seemed like the best way to prove that I was that baby in the letter. He questioned me about my age, my name, and how I came to be living with August. I told him and asked him about my mother. He wouldn't answer."

  "Not at all?"

  "He said she's gone and that's all there is to it."

  "But she's your mother! You deserve to know."

  "I'll speak to him about it again another time after all this—" He broke off, his voice cracking. Did he mean to say when all this was over? When I was gone?

  I stretched out alongside Jack him the water. He placed his hands under my back and I floated on the surface like a reed, staring up at the gloomy sky. Lord Wade was Jack's father. It connected us in a strange way.

  "You're an earl's son."

  He smiled. "An illegitimate one. That's worthless."

  I sat up again. The water streamed from my hair down my back. "You're not worthless, Jack. Wade is. He should have answered your questions about your mother."

  He lifted one shoulder. "People of Lord Wade's ilk are a law unto themselves. They answer to nobody. If they don't want to do something, then very few people can force them. I learned that as a boy on the street."

  "And I learned it in his attic."

  He gathered my hair and squeezed the water out of it then set about untangling the knots. He kissed my earlobe and whispered, "Do you think if we stay here all day, anyone will notice?"

  I laughed. "I would think so. Come on, let's go inside and speak to Langley. We can ask him about your mother."

  "He won't tell us. He's refused all along."

  "He's refused to tell you who your father was, but now you know, I don't see the point of keeping secrets. Come on, Jack, we can only try." I stood and tugged on his hand until he too rose.

  "We shouldn't disturb him."

  "Nonsense. He'll want to grill me over my disappearance anyway. We can cut him off before he gets started and ask him our questions instead."

  He laughed. "You, Hannah Smith, are a force of nature."

  "I blame my hair. It makes me do wild things."

  I went to walk back to the bank, but he grabbed my hand and swung me round to face him. My body slammed into his, and his lips came crashing down on mine. The kiss was fierce and filled with longing, but he ended it before the heat rose too much. He let me go and I cooled off, but my blood still throbbed like thick honey through my veins.

  Feeling slightly dizzy, I led the way to the bank.

  "You haven't told me what happened with Tate," he said, picking up his shoes.

  We walked back to the house and I told him how Myer had remained while I spoke with Tate, and how I ultimately decided to put my trust in Langley finding a cure. I didn't tell Jack that Tate claimed Langley wasn't good enough to do it alone. It would only give him doubts when he needed to have faith.

  "Did you ask him why he won't work with August now?"

  I chewed my lip then decided I should just tell him. "They were lovers and had a falling out, possibly over Bollard." It all came out in a rush. I knew if I hesitated, I might not say it at all.

  He stopped. We were almost at the front steps leading up to the house. Samuel and Sylvia must have gone inside to leave Jack and me in peace. I wondered if Langley had seen us in the lake together from his rooms, and if he was angry with Samuel for not trying to keep us apart.

  All those things went through my mind while Jack simply stared at me. "Well," he finally said. "I had wondered, ever since we found out about Tate from his housekeeper."

  "You did?"

  He nodded. "I began to think how it seemed odd that August had never shown an interest in marrying, and how his friendship with Bollard was different to any other I've witnessed between master and servant, or even between two friends." He looked up at the solid arched door and the carved stone lintel above it. "There's a great deal I don't know about August."

  That was quite the understatement.

  CHAPTER 13

  If August Langley had my affliction, his entire room would have caught fire by the time Jack and I reached it. His anger slammed into me as we entered, forcing me to stop in the doorway.

  Jack charged in. He angled himself between a seething Langley and me. "Don't," he said, his voice a low warning.

  Langley wheeled himself forward, and Jack had to quickly step aside to get out of the way. Bollard, standing near a table with teapot and cups on it, crossed his arms and glared at me. It would seem he was just as furious.

  Langley stopped at my feet and bared his teeth. "How dare you put us through that! Bollard and I have been out of our minds with worry!"

  I was prepared for his anger, but not his concern. He'd been worried about me? Bollard too? I was speechless. Although it wasn't his intention, it made me feel like part of the family, equal to Sylvia and Jack.

  "I'm sorry," I said, finding my voice. My apology sounded pathetic, but it was all I had to offer. "I…wasn't thinking clearly."

  Langley merely grunted, but all the anger seemed to leave Bollard entirely. He poured tea from the pot into a cup and handed it to me, but didn't immediately let go. His fingers brushed mine, and he gave me a sympathetic smile. Then he did the most extraordinary thing. He kissed my forehead. It was just a peck, the sort of kiss a father would give his daughter, but it brought fresh tears to my eyes.

  "Thank you," I whispered.

  He stepped back, checking over his shoulder. Langley had turned away and wheeled himself to his desk. Whether he witnessed the kiss or not, I couldn't say.

  Jack stood in the middle of the room, his lips parted in surprise, his gaze following Bollard as he joined his master. The conversation appeared to be over as far as they were concerned.

  "Sylvia told you where I've been?" I asked.

  "Yes," Langley shot back.

  "Don't you want to know how
the meeting went?"

  "I assume he didn't kidnap you since you're here."

  "Your scientific powers of observation are impressive."

  Bollard shook his head in warning, and I bit my lip. He was right. Now wasn't the time for quips.

  "Tate couldn't assure me that I wouldn't be harmed during his tests, so I declined to help him."

  "I'm not sure why you needed to visit him to determine that," Langley said. "I've been telling you all along."

  I came up behind his chair, but he still didn't turn around. He did put down his dropper, however, and appeared to be listening. Jack stood at my back. His reassuring presence gave me the strength to continue. "If you and Tate could combine your knowledge, Mr. Langley, just this once, perhaps the cure is closer than either of you realize."

  "Did he say he would work with me?" Langley asked.

  I thought about lying, but it was pointless. He would find out. "He refused to consider it. Something about pride and…jealousy."

  Bollard flinched, and his gaze slid to his employer. His lover? Langley went very still. He said nothing, just stared straight ahead at the wall.

  I forged on. I'd come this far and couldn't back away now. There was too much at stake. "Perhaps if you approached Tate, he would be more amenable. I think he doesn't want to be the one to eat humble pie."

  "There's a little more to it than that," Langley said. "What else did he say?"

  "That the Society wanted the compound and an antidote. That's why Myer has shown an interest. He has been aware of Tate all along."

  "You trust him?"

  I hesitated. "No, but I think I have to if I want to live."

  Jack shifted his weight behind me. I couldn't see him, but I felt his breath on the back of my neck now that my hair was once more bundled up. It was ragged and unsteady, as if he was struggling to hold himself together.

  "Is that all?" Langley said. "You may leave."

  "But—"

  Bollard put up a hand. He half shook his head, more as a warning than an order. I nodded and closed my mouth. Of everyone in that room, the servant knew best how to handle Langley.

  Jack wasn't so concerned with upsetting anyone. "It's not all," he said. "You owe me an explanation, August. I know who my father is."