“I do.” His eye twitched as he looked between Emmeline and Nadir. “I didn’t realize there was an us.”
“Oh, yes. You see, I’m not just a ‘like-minded’ supporter of werewolf rights, I’m a wolf-witch, and Nadir, here, is my wolf,” she crooned, running her fingers through his hair.
Nadir leaned into her touch, his body bending against the sweep of her hand. Wesley nearly cackled at the look on Elsworth’s face. His façade cracked under the strain of repulsion and confusion. Emmeline had said the man hated them, but Wesley hadn’t quite realized how much. With an imperceivable shake of his head, Elsworth returned to his overconfident sneer.
“My apologies, Miss Jardine. I had no idea he was your companion and a wolf,”
he said, adding the last word as if it hurt. “We could have seen to your room arrangement had we known.”
Nadir flashed a roguish grin. “I’m her jackal, technically, Elsie, but it’s all the same, isn’t it? Besides, we’re accustomed to an air of secrecy.”
“Let’s not keep them any longer, darling. We’ve made our point.”
With a pointed look at Elsworth, Emmeline motioned for Nadir to sit. He pulled out the heavy, throne-like chair at the far end of the table and sat. Emmeline perched on his knee and leaned back until she rested against his chest. The silky gown slipped from her shoulder as she nestled against him like a cat. Nadir’s fingers curled around her body as they turned their kohl-rimmed eyes to watch the proceedings from beneath languid lids.
“Go on. Great injustice and disrespect and all that,” Emmeline said with a dismissive wave.
Elsworth bit back a grimace and cleared his throat. “As I was saying—”
Before Elsworth could get a word out, Gernier leapt to his feet and slammed his hands on the table. Leveling a malevolent glower at Nadir, he spat, “It isn’t right that you get to barge in here like this. You were supposed to—”
“Enough!” Elsworth snapped.
Tension thickened the air. For a moment, Wesley feared Gernier might dive across the table and try to strangle Mr. Talbot or that Elsworth would slap the nobleman first. Bourgot rolled his eyes and put a hand on Gernier’s shoulder to put him back in his seat. Gernier’s face had taken on a sickly red once more as his lips puckered and his eyes bugged. All the while Nadir Talbot watched him with the lethargic grace of a tiger. Emmeline whispered something into his ear and he laughed with his gaze leveled on Gernier, the high, clear notes echoing through the room. A vein pulsed in the nobleman’s forehead, but he didn’t try to rise again.
“They say he’s one of us. How do we know? You said—”
Elsworth cut him off with a sharp look.
“Change, then. Show us you’re what you say you are,” Gernier snapped.
Cocking an eyebrow, Mr. Talbot gave Gernier an appraising look. “I should be asking you the same thing. Either way, the answer is no.”
“No? You refuse, so you admit you’re a liar.”
Nadir chuckled dryly and rested his hand on Emmeline’s thigh. “My good man, I don’t know how you were raised, but I certainly do not engage in such behaviors indoors. I will not stoop to strip naked and turn into a beast in Colonel Roulet’s home. Such a breach of etiquette is unconscionable,” he said with disgust. “Besides, I’m not ruining my clothes to put on a show for the likes of you. If you require proof, you will have to wait.”
“More importantly,” Emmeline echoed, picking up the moment he left off, “why should we present proof when you lot have done nothing? The only werewolf I’m certain of is Mr. Bisclavret.”
Catching Emmeline’s eye, Wesley added, “I can vouch for Mr. Talbot. After Miss Jardine helped get me released from gaol, she introduced me to Mr. Talbot. I’ve seen him shift myself.”
Roulet turned to Nadir Talbot with renewed interest, and it took everything in Wesley’s power to bite back the guilt, lest Roulet should sense it.
“How do we know Bisclavret isn’t lying, too?” Gernier sulked, crossing his arms and glaring at Nadir and Emmeline with such malice that it was almost comical.
“Because not everyone is lying, you half-wit,” Bourgot snapped. “We simply misjudged Talbot’s involvement.”
“Besides, he is Wesley Bisclavret, the son of the Rougarou. If we hadn’t found him stuck in the Interceptors’ dungeons, he still would be from the most prominent werewolf family in history.” Each word slipped from Elsworth’s lips with the aftertaste of his carrion-tinged magic. “Let’s save our squabbles until we have what we want.”
Clearing his throat, David Elsworth leveled his gaze on the table, meeting each person as he spoke. “As I was saying, tonight we have gathered at the house of our forefathers to right an injustice that has plagued our people for centuries. Once the great werewolf families ruled the British Isles as the right hands to kings and nobles alike. We were respected, valued, prized above all else for our ferocity and valor. But today, we are no better than dogs, meant to sit at heel while those who think they are our betters feast at the table. We have been reduced to quivering in the shadows, afraid to show our true selves for fear of being put to death. Well, no more. At St. Herve’s Abbey, the last stronghold of the great werewolf families who survived the Cull, we will stand up to our tormenters and remove those who would prevent us from ever discovering our true natures.
“The monarchy and Interceptors feel we are a threat to society, and they may be right. But we have become a threat because they have held us at bay for so long. What happens when a wolf isn’t allowed to be a wolf? It rebels. It tears its captors limb from limb until there is nothing in their way. Then, he is called evil. Is he evil? Is he evil when the alternative was death or eternal repression? They have done this since the reign of King Edward I when the king decided to cut us down for not siding with the Crown during the Second Barons’ War. And we should have rebelled and destroyed his kingship, but instead, loyal to the end, we foolishly stood by. We tried to bide our time, taking up monastic life and farming, fighting our very nature in hopes we could prove our fidelity. But they came back and cut us down again!”
A rise of agreement came from Gernier and Bourgot who sat riveted. Wesley hazarded a look at Roulet and found him watching puzzled but intrigued. Wesley wished he could stop it. He wished he could step in when he felt the stir of violence and stop all of it, but he couldn’t. At least three of them could be weargs and if they were anything like their description in the book, they would overpower him in an instant. Luckily, Emmeline and Mr. Talbot were dubious. Behind the air of nonchalance, Wesley could feel the trepidation. They had both been pulled into this because of him, and he was going to put a stop to it, whatever it was. When he looked back, Elsworth’s eyes were on him and his hand leveled at his face.
“Proud families like the Bisclavrets had to leave their homes and flee to France and then to America. Was it fair that they were chased from their homes because of who they are? All because some fat, old king decided they were more of a nuisance than a help. We fought and died for them while they tried to snuff us out. No more. We are going to take back the legacy that was and is ours. We built this country, we fought for this country, and we are going to rebuild it in our image. We are going to infiltrate the highest strata and destroy them from the inside out. We will show them what they truly have to fear from wolves and mages. Are you with me?”
Wesley felt the flare of hope and wonder from the colonel at the same moment Bourgot and Gernier stirred. The wolf whipped defensively inside Wesley, ready to leap should the men shift. The air tasted of blood, but he couldn’t strike first. He was certain Elsworth had enchanted his words to inflame his listeners. Was this why Mrs. March’s blood had been spilled?
“And how, pray tell, are we going to do that, Elsie?” Emmeline crooned from Nadir’s lap.
Elsworth’s eyes sharpened as he leaned across the table to meet her gaze. “It’s simple. We will break the Interceptors from the inside out. Then, we will take over Parliament. The Interceptors ha
ve no defenses against us. They thought us banished for centuries and have grown complacent.”
“So you think a building full of magical people are going to let you waltz right in?”
“Of course not, but when you have sympathy on the inside, things are so much easier. Besides, we have the first group of werewolves thirsty for a fight and those sympathetic to us aren’t without defenses, are they?”
A swallow rocked Emmeline’s throat, though her face betrayed nothing. Wesley had seen the book on her bed. The one that stunk of moss and her magic. How Elsworth knew of its existence he had no idea, but now Wesley wished he had asked what the book contained.
“Colonel Roulet, are you ready to join us?”
Wesley watched his features. For all his hope a moment before, Roulet looked unsure. His gut twisted and Wesley felt the flicker of the man’s wolf as if he wanted to retreat inside himself. Wesley pushed to catch his gaze and held it. Say yes. Say yes and live another day, he begged in his mind. Roulet’s gaze shifted infinitesimally toward Wesley before he nodded.
“Yes, I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
“Bisclavret? They’ve wronged you most of all.”
“Of course. Besides, my father is in London. I can speak to him when I return. He may be willing to help and bring reinforcements if you’re willing to wait.”
“There’s no time for that. Things have already been set in motion, and we leave at dawn. What about you, Miss Jardine and Mr. Talbot? I will require your magic when the time comes.”
She met Nadir’s gaze as if silently conferring before turning to Elsworth with a renewed venom. “Of course, Elsworth. You know I hate the Interceptors as much or more than anyone here. I’m prepared to strip them to the bone.”
For a moment, Wesley wasn’t certain if she was lying or telling the truth. Her malice was evident. He had seen the way they treated her, and him, at the Interceptors. Whatever she had done in the past had burned her bridges, and he wondered if they stopped them, would they all find themselves on the wrong side of a prison cell?
“Verdun?”
When the man didn’t reply, Elsworth repeated himself more sharply. Verdun’s head snapped up, his lip curling as his fingers dug into his glass.
“Now is not the time for cowardice or weakness, Verdun. Are you with us or not?”
“Yes. I already told you, yes,” he replied, the words faltering as he returned to his drink.
“Good.” Elsworth looked a little uncertain but it disappeared beneath a mask of verve. “Sleep well tonight, men. For soon, our oppression will be over. Remember, tomorrow we leave at dawn.”
Chapter Nineteen
Vulnerabilities
As the men filed out of the great hall, Emmeline tried to slow her pace. Her mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts, but most importantly, they had believed them. She wanted to dance in the hall and at the same time cry at the thought of what tomorrow would bring. They couldn’t storm the Interceptors. No matter who won, it would be a bloodbath, and there were too many people in this fight she cared about. With Nadir on her arm, squeezing her hand for support, she could forget for a moment that there was anything beyond now. She had told him all they had to do was survive the night, and that’s what they were going to do. From the corner of her eye, she watched Wesley and Colonel Roulet veer toward the library. He gave her a quick nod and darted out of sight. When they arrived at the hallway leading to their rooms, Emmeline felt Nadir’s eyes upon her.
“I don’t want you to be alone tonight,” they said over one another.
“I’m glad we are of one mind on that.”
“Now that we no longer have to hide our connection,” Emmeline said grandly in case anyone was listening, “I think it would be prudent if you slept in my room. It’s larger, after all.”
Are you certain? Nadir mouthed.
When Emmeline nodded, he shrugged and opened her door. Turning on the gas lamps, Emmeline looked around her room as if seeing it for the first time. Only an hour ago, she and Nadir had been busy transforming themselves into caricatures and it had seemed natural to see him among her things. Now, it felt as if she had intruded upon a scene she wasn’t supposed to be in. Nadir sighed and shrugged off his jacket before carefully placing it on the vanity chair.
“You don’t need anything from your room?”
“Not really. Besides, you’re wearing my robe.”
With a few quick motions, the gold slithered from his neck and hair and wound into a lump on the table. The way his hands slipped over one another as he removed his rings sent heat rising in her cheeks. Crossing her arms, Emmeline made for her wardrobe without looking back. How had she been able to ignore that she was nearly naked before? In front of those awful men, she should have felt exposed and vulnerable, yet she had felt nothing but growing power. A little flesh and a flash of silk had been a smokescreen, a distraction to hide the cracks that would have been obvious in her gowns. Pausing with her hand on her nightgown, she eyed Nadir as he wiped the kohl from his eyes at the mirror. Is that what he did day after day with his colorful suits and outlandish hats? She wanted to ask, but she also wanted to see for herself if she could spot the cracks in his façade first.
“If you need me to look the other way, I will,” he said, not breaking from the mirror.
“Thank you, I would appreciate it.”
The moment he turned aside, she tugged off his robe and scrambled out of the layers still encumbering her. A little nagging, prudish voice that sounded a bit like her aunt told her to keep her petticoats or camisole on, but she tossed them aside with little ceremony. Coming up for air as her head breached her nightgown, she told him it was safe to look. His eyes swept over the refuse of linen on the floor and bed.
“Did you disrobe or molt? I swear, I’ve never seen someone make such a mess by themselves.”
Tossing his robe at his head, Emmeline bit back a grin as he caught it with one hand. “I was trying to be quick. It’s your turn, now that you have your precious robe. Shall I look away for your—?”
Before she could finish, he had undone the buttons of his shirt and was slipping it off. “I don’t care much for my virtue at this point. Look, don’t look. Doesn’t matter to me.”
Emmeline swallowed hard as she tried to pull her eyes away from the gentle curves of his torso and chest. Beneath his clothing, his dancer’s grace was far more obvious in the light cord of his muscles and the contour of bone beneath. His chest and stomach were dabbed with dark hair, trailing down to the edge of his trousers. Wrenching her gaze to the clothing strewn on the floor, Emmeline balled them up and shoved them into her steamer trunk. Heat rose in her belly as she watched him from the corner of her eye in time to catch the curve of his buttock and thigh through his drawers. Nadir Talbot was as handsome as she had imagined, but what held her attention was a pink stripe of ropey scar on his upper arm. It had healed but was fresh enough to still be conspicuous.
When she looked back again, he had donned his robe and was standing behind the vanity chair. “You really should take the kohl off. Otherwise you’ll wake up looking like a sad badger.”
Emmeline sat before him. She had expected to remove it herself, but when she saw him reach for the handkerchief and water from the pitcher, she submitted to him. She closed her eyes as his calloused fingers tipped her chin up while the other wiped at her eyelids with surprising gentleness.
“Do you think they believed us?” he whispered, his breath trailing across her cheek.
“They let us hear their plan. They wouldn’t if they thought we would be in the way.”
Nadir’s silence weighed heavily as he moved to her other eye.
“Perhaps we should make certain the door is locked. Pushing the wardrobe in front of it might not be a terrible idea either.”
“Agreed, I’d prefer to keep my entrails.”
Standing on either side of the wardrobe, Emmeline and Nadir struggled to walk it to the door. Between unladylike grunts and muttere
d oaths, they finally shimmied it far enough across the door that someone couldn’t burst in. As they stood panting at their handiwork, Emmeline met Nadir’s gaze. Despite all that had happened, his eyes were bright and his mouth curved into a mocking smile. “Debauched” was always the word that came to mind when he put on his face for company, but standing inches from his side, both stripped down to silk and linen, she found him far more conspiratorial. She liked when he didn’t look so untouchable. Not that she wanted to touch him, she reminded herself as she tamped down the nagging feeling within her. Days earlier she would have thought she was silly to be nervous about sharing a bedroom with Nadir Talbot.
The air seemed to suck from Emmeline’s lungs at the thought. Her heart thundered in her ears as he walked toward the bed. He ran his fingers over the foot rail before snatching up a pillow and a spare blanket. Emmeline stared mutely as he rumpled the extra blanket into some semblance of a bed before lying on top of it.
“This is what you want, Miss Jardine?” he asked without rising from his pillow.
Finding her voice, Emmeline shook her head. “I suppose. Are you comfortable down there like that?”
“I should be as long as the fire doesn’t go out. The floor is far more comfortable than many a salon couch.”
From the bottom of the wardrobe, Emmeline pulled out a spare quilt. Snuffing out the gas lamps, she crawled atop the bed and sat hugging the quilt to her chest. He was so close. Even in the dark, she could sense him only feet away. If she dangled her arm off the bed, he could touch it. The thought at once thrilled and mortified her. Inching closer to the side, Emmeline stretched out the quilt and threw it down like a net.
“Good night, Mr. Talbot,” she blurted as she flattened onto the mattress in hopes he couldn’t see the pained expression on her face.
The Wolf Witch Page 20