by Bec McMaster
He didn’t know how he was going to make himself let her go. Moving slowly, he slid his arms around her and dragged her in close again. “And I don’t think I’m quite ready to let you stand.” He stroked her hair, nuzzling his face into it. “I need this. Just give me a moment.”
The stiffness in her body melted out of her, bit by bit. Each time he stroked his hand through her hair she softened just a little more. And damn him for a fool, but he liked it.
He could also smell blood. There was a sticky spot at the back of her skull. Garrett’s fingers paused over it. “Are you hurt?”
“No. A little light-headed. And nauseous. My knees don’t feel quite up to taking my weight, either.”
It struck him then that the darkness in him hadn’t risen at the scent of her blood. He was aware of it, of course, but the furious hunger rested inside him. It sat like a heavy weight in his chest. Softened. Lulled. Her hand stroked small circles over the muscle of his pectoral.
Garrett puzzled over that. He’d been so frightened he’d hurt her. But this… It felt right. She felt like she belonged exactly where both he and the hunger wanted her.
Damn, but he wished he had someone to speak of this with. Someone like Lynch, who’d had years to deal with controlling the craving virus. Someone who could give him some bloody advice.
The sound of boots ringing on the metal stairs intruded and Perry tensed. When she scrambled off his lap, he let her. Perry took several steps away from him, her face still paler than he’d ever seen it.
It was Byrnes. Of course. His gaze skated over Perry, then back to Garrett. “You need to come and see this.”
“Is it important?” Garrett asked, shooting her another look. Still far too quiet. Trembling a little, he thought, but holding on to it.
Byrnes nodded grimly. “It’s important.”
Ten
“Do you want to stay up here?”
Garrett’s face slowly came into focus in front of her. Behind him, the Nighthawks had torn half the floor up with hammers and pry bars. The darkness below yawned like an enormous mouth, ready to swallow her up. The instant she thought it, heat washed out of her face, leaving her lips numb again. Deep in her belly, the fear stretched out its claws and let her know it was still there, ready to drag her under again.
Yes. She didn’t want to go anywhere near that…that place. Not again. The thought set her heart racing, a tremble of cold rippling down her spine.
“You don’t have to.” Garrett saw it in her face.
Years ago, she’d fled from something like this, and it had cost her in nightmares that left her curled into a ball in her sheets, desperately trying to hold the sobs inside. Trying to get her lungs to open so that she could breathe again. Time had eased the frequency of her hysterical attacks, until today. She could stay up here, nice and safe, or she could force herself back into that nightmare. Stare it in the face and spit in its eye.
She didn’t want to. But if she didn’t do it now, she knew she’d wake screaming tonight.
Best to face it while she had people around her. Perhaps take a good look at what lurked beneath the factory and chase away some of the shadows. It was just a room. Just another room, full of ghostly girls trapped behind the thin facade of glass. All she had to do was keep telling herself that.
Somehow her head jerked in a nod. “I’m coming down.”
Garrett squeezed her fingers. She hadn’t even noticed he was holding her hand. “I’ll go first,” he said, stepping away and gesturing for a lantern.
“No. I’ll go,” Byrnes said. “Make sure it’s safe. You’re the guild master now.” For once his words held no acid. The way his gaze sidled toward her made her realize that some part of him felt the bite of guilt.
Byrnes dropped into the darkness. Garrett followed, shooting her one last grim look before the shadows swallowed him up.
Perry paused at the edge. “Garrett?”
A light bobbed in the darkness: one of the phosphorescent glimmer balls they sometimes used. “Here. Someone help her down. I’ll catch her.”
If it was anywhere else, she’d have simply stepped off the edge and landed in front of him, just to prove that she didn’t need his help. But she still felt fragile. Thomas held out his hand and Perry took it, letting him lower her over the edge. As her body vanished into the darkness, her lungs sucked in a deep breath. Then another. A little faster. She looked up as Thomas gave her hand a squeeze.
“We’re right here, miss.”
Hands slid up her legs. “I’ve got her,” Garrett called. As Thomas’s hand opened, she dropped into his arms.
Foolish to feel so frightened. And to let them see it too. She’d worked for years to uphold her reputation and make it clear she could do this job. It was harder for her. She’d had to prove her worth and value so many times in the last decade, and now young Thomas saw her as just another frightened woman.
“Bloody hell,” Byrnes whispered, lifting the glimmer high as he examined the glass cases. Light rippled through the unearthly blue liquid inside, and the girl he was staring at reached for him. Byrnes scrambled back, his face paling as he tripped and landed in a sprawl. “She’s alive. She’s bloody still alive!”
“Thomas,” Garrett called in a choked voice. “I need you and Atherton. Hayes, send word to the guild. We’ll need Dr. Gibson here now. And the medic van.”
It broke something inside her, staring at that poor girl. Something huge and fierce and choking rose over her, and then Perry was reaching for the pry bar that Byrnes had brought down with him as a weapon.
“Perry…?”
She swung it, driving it straight into the glass. Water spewed out, the girl’s eyes widening inside the case as she fell forward and then Garrett was there, catching the girl as she slumped. Perry smashed the remaining glass out of the way as Garrett gently lifted the wet girl into his arms.
“Perry, stop. We need to do this carefully.” He was looking at her. Trying to get her to focus on him. “Put the bar down.”
Perry lowered it. Not down on the ground. Her heart was thumping so hard in her chest that she felt like she was going to be ill. The skin on one of her bruised knuckles split as her fingers locked around the cold iron. “I can’t.” Choked words. “I can’t put it down.”
“That’s fine. Hold it then, if you’re frightened. Just don’t smash any more of the glass. Byrnes? Your coat?”
Byrnes crawled to his feet, swinging the long leather coat off his shoulders. He held it out and Garrett transferred the girl into his arms. Byrnes closed the coat around her with an oddly gentle movement as Garrett reached for the mask that was strapped around her face. The clips sprang open beneath his touch and the mask eased away from her skin, the white imprint of it gleaming against her cheeks.
“You’re safe,” Garrett murmured. “He can’t hurt you. Not again. I promise.”
“No—” The girl’s face crumpled, her fingers grabbing onto Garrett’s coat as she sobbed. “Please… Please…”
Perry staggered away, unable to watch. It only reminded her of her own helplessness. She could hear Garrett’s voice, though. Gentle words. Doing what he did best. “Byrnes will look after you. You’re safe—”
Safe.
Picking up the lantern, Perry crossed the room, her boots crunching on glass. Behind her she heard Atherton and Thomas land in the darkness, where Garrett swiftly gave them orders. She couldn’t look at the glass cases or the women inside. Instead she stared at the steel examination table at the end of the room.
A surgery. Her hip hit a small rolling cart covered in gleaming implements. Just the sight of them made the heat drain from her face. A single light hung over the table, its bulb darkened. But she could imagine it bright and glaring. Imagine the gleam of it on steel, reflecting back off the scalpel—
—the straps cutting into her as she wriggled and jerked. Locked over her chest and arms, hips and thighs. Trapping her, no matter how much she fought—
“Perry?”
/>
She jerked her hand away from the table. “Yes?”
Garrett stepped around it, his blue eyes burning through her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Better than those poor girls anyway. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivered. Time to prove she was made of firmer pluck than this. To prove it to herself, if nothing else. “What do you want me to do?”
He looked at her, searching for any sign that she was going to suffer another bout of hysteria. Perry’s cheeks burned. How she hated those episodes. The breathing was the worst, because she thought she’d never draw another breath again. It had taken years to learn how to survive them. Years of meditation with Lynch, and surprisingly, the martial art he’d insisted she learn had helped.
“I’m fine,” she repeated, her voice just a little louder. “I want to help.”
Garrett gave a clipped nod. “We’re going to get the other three out. I’ll need you to help me.” He shot one last questioning look at the table, his expression darkening. “Then we need to work out how to locate this bastard and find out what the hell he was doing here.”
***
Water gushed over her, thick and salty. Perry caught the last girl in her arms as she slumped forward out of the tank, her wet stringy hair clinging to Perry’s face. Fingers raked over her, clutching at her arms. Fighting her.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered, staring into those pale green eyes. “You’re safe now.”
For a moment she felt a sense of kinship. This one was the fighter. But unlike Perry, she’d been unable to escape. That could have been her. Locked up like that. Or devil knows what else Hague had intended to do with her. If not for the single buckle that had torn from the straps holding her down, giving her just enough space to free her arm, something like this could have happened to her.
Byrnes helped her unclip the mask from over the girl’s mouth and nose. The suction gave a little pop as they pried it loose, the stale taste of air leaching from it with a hiss. That explained the metal canisters clipped to the walls beside each tank. Aether. The breath of life.
Perry dragged her coat off and draped it around the girl’s shoulders, her wet shirt clinging to her skin.
“Who are you?” the young woman sobbed.
“My name is Miss Lowell.” Hopefully the sight of another female would help to calm the woman. “I’m a Nighthawk. This is Byrnes, one of my companions.”
The woman’s eyes darted. “The…others? I know there were others. I could see them. See what he did to them.”
One of the girls hadn’t been breathing when they removed her from the case and another was in a perilous condition, the scar down her chest red and inflamed. The other Nighthawks had removed both of them to the medic coach where Dr. Gibson was fussing.
Perry gave a little shake of her head. “One is still breathing—her name is Alice. The others… Whatever he did to them, their bodies were fighting it.”
Byrnes shot Perry a warning glance. But if that were her, she would want to know. “What’s your name, miss?” he asked.
“Ava.” Haunted eyes glanced at the examination table, then darted away. “Ava McLaren.”
There was a faint Scottish burr to her voice. Perry stilled. “How long have you been here?”
“Where are we?” A hesitation as Ava swallowed. “The last I knew, I was in Edinburgh. It was May.”
Edinburgh. Perry squeezed her hand, holding on just a little too tightly. Edinburgh was close to the Moncrieff’s family home—and place of exile. “It’s November. And you’re in London. We were investigating a pair of murders in the factory when we found you.”
November, Ava mouthed. Any remaining color drained out of her cheeks, and she swayed in Perry’s arms. It brought Perry’s split knuckles closer to her face, and suddenly the woman stiffened, eyes locking on the torn and bleeding skin, her irises darkening.
A blue blood. Perry’s gaze jerked to Byrnes.
He slid his arms around Ava, tugging her tight against his chest as he stood. “I’ve got her,” he murmured. “You should see if you can stop the bleeding.”
What were the odds of the woman having the craving virus? A woman who’d been held captive by a man who liked to cut out girl’s hearts? It wasn’t the same circumstances as Hague—just similar enough to make something tighten in her chest.
For a moment she was frozen, then Perry leaped after them, yanking at Byrnes’s arm. “What did he do to you, Miss McLaren?” The words were harsh, but her heart was hammering in her ears. “Did he inject you with anything? Then cut you with a scalpel?”
“Perry,” Byrnes snapped, turning his shoulder as if to keep her away from the girl. “Bloody hell, give her time to catch her breath.”
Then they were gone and she had no answers other than those her mind could supply—and those she could imagine only too well.
Hague.
It had to be Hague. Didn’t it?
***
“I never…I never knew, I swear. They been ’ere, all along, ain’t they?” Mr. Mallory stood by the door to the factory, twisting his cap in his hands as he watched them put the bodies of the first two girls in the medic van.
Garrett clapped a hand on his shoulder. “We need to ask you a few questions about your missing overseer, Mr. Sykes.”
“Anythin’ you need,” Mallory replied, tears wetting his eyes as he watched Dr. Gibson slam the door shut on the medic coach.
“Has anybody seen him?” Garrett asked. “None of my Nighthawks can locate him. There’s been no answer at his address.”
“You think he did this?”
“We’re not certain,” Garrett replied. “He is, however, a person of interest.”
“No, I ain’t seen him. Don’t speak much, outside of work. He don’t seem to speak much to anyone, actually. Just locks himself up in that little room up there, goin’ over the books. Comes out every once in a while and just watches. Not like most overseers I’ve worked with. People don’t—they don’t like to cross him.”
“Has he made any threats against anyone?” Garrett’s instincts sharpened.
“No, quiet manner he has. Don’t ever raise his voice. Just…watches. It gives a man the right shivers, it does.”
“How long has he been here?”
“Near on six months as I can recollect. I wouldn’t know the precise date.”
Garrett asked several other questions but it was clear Mallory was shaken. Not even the ECHO could catch his interest this time around.
Outside it was mayhem. People strained along the fences, howling for details. He could see one or two familiar faces—the press with their bulbous cameras. Lurking about for him, no doubt. Well, they’d have to wait. He had more pressing matters to deal with. Gibson had pronounced the second girl dead and suspected an infection in her blood, considering the recent surgery. Alice had been subdued with a dose of laudanum and the doctor was seeing to her now.
Footsteps echoed him and he found Perry at his heels. Her lips were blue with the cold and she shivered, her arms wrapped around herself. Garrett glanced around for one of the blankets they’d dragged from the medic coach. “What are you doing? You’re freezing.” He draped it around her shoulders. “Get up on the seat beside Gibson and back to the guild. I don’t want to see you again until you’ve had a warm bath and changed your clothes.”
“I’m fine.”
“Perry…” he growled.
“You’re wet too.”
His own shirt clung to his chest. “I’ll return as soon as I get the men sorted out.” More Nighthawks had arrived from the guild to go over the laboratory and transport everything back to headquarters where it could be examined at leisure.
“Get Gibson to test them for the craving,” she said. “The last one we rescued—Ava—she’s a blue blood.”
“Truly?”
“I saw it in her eyes, Garrett. She wanted my blood.”
It was only then that he remembered her bloodied hands. The moment he tried to
look at them, Perry snatched her wrist out of reach. It stirred his anger but he swallowed it down, forcing himself to leave her be. Later. When both of them had time. Then he was going to sit with her and damn well make certain she was barely bruised.
“Perhaps you’d best sit with her,” he instructed. “She’ll be frightened and unsure of what’s going on. You’ve experienced it—”
A flash of something—fright—lit through her eyes. There and gone again. “I’ll try to speak to her. She won’t let go of Byrnes at the moment.”
Both of them looked over to where the other man handed Ava up into the front of the medic coach. Once on the seat, the other man began rubbing at her hands to warm her up.
“Perhaps he’s not a lost cause, after all,” Garrett noted with some surprise.
“You only see him as a rival. I’ll hardly claim him to be garrulous, but he looked after me, Garrett, when you sent us out together. He doesn’t cluck over me like a mother hen the way you do, but he made certain he was always in the line of fire first.”
Garrett sighed and rubbed a hand through the back of his wet hair. “Go. Bathe. That’s an order. Tell Doyle he’s to make certain you’re warm and dry.”
“I’m not telling him any such thing,” she replied tartly, backing toward the coach. “I can look after myself, you know.”
A smile teased his lips. Doyle would take one look at her and she’d be in the steam baths below the guild, with warmed blood being delivered in a flagon, and a warm dressing robe and slippers. Perry might not know it, but looking after her had become somewhat of a conspiracy among the men.
“Go then, my lady peregrine. I’ll see you later, after this mess is sorted out.”
Eleven
“You sent a message to him, didn’t you?” Perry growled, not bothering to knock.