“My brother insists there was no attack.” The doctor’s focus shifted back to his lap as he flipped the page. “That you caused the bruises yourself.”
“I am aware of his opinion.” She knew she sounded waspish, but blast the man for coloring the doctor against her. “But, I wonder…If Dominic can travel as he does, why assume no one else can? Perhaps there is another with equal talents, and fewer scruples. By the by, I’d like to know. Are you…different…like Dom or is it just him?”
As Eden piqued an ire brow at him, she noticed Atherton’s attentions lay elsewhere. His vague, “Define different” seemed spoken as an afterthought, so absorbed was he with the chalk visages staring out from the page.
“Dominic travels in another realm. He can cloak himself and skulk about unnoticed. Do you do that? Would you spy on me, if I refuse to spill all my dirty little secrets?”
Still he only had amber eyes for her artistic renderings. “The two of you had a spat recently, I see. But to answer your question, no, I am not adept. Tell me, what was the impetus for these last few drawings?”
“The visions, what else.” Exasperated by Atherton’s odd fascination, Eden snapped out her next inquiry. “What the devil is so interesting about that one anyway?” He couldn’t even be bothered to notice her annoyance. The quiet answer she received startled her.
“I know them. And I must say you’ve captured the likeness and the differences rather brilliantly. One would almost think…”
“Who…are they?” The pair of them had greeted her in the vanity mirror one morning, blinking back at her just as they did from the sketch the vision had inspired. Alluring, yet eerie…almost like a blurring of one image into two. Both with midnight hair and tan-olive skin, rather like Dominic’s she realized suddenly…but his face was fleshy, rounded, less angular than the two in her vision.
“Come.”
That broke the spell. Eden followed him as he laid her sketches aside on the divan, stood and held a hand out for her. Atherton drew her along the back wall of the L-shaped gallery, until they stood before a wide rectangular oil of the same two in her sketch. Identical visages, bust-only, posed shoulder-to-shoulder.
“That’s Gideon there on the right and Gabriel on the left.” He gestured. “Are you sure you’ve never been in this room before?”
“No. Never.”
“How interesting.”
Chapter 19
Matthias twitched. He sweated it out alone in a room with the size and appeal of a privy. The voices of the Social Reform Board in the adjacent meeting hall carried just enough for him to discern who spoke but not enough to make out what was being said.
He called in a few favors from the contacts he still claimed on Bow Street and squeezed a handful of inmates’ relatives—influential peers—to apply pressure to the board. Blackmailed a half dozen of his off-the-books clientele into endorsing St. Ciaran Isis as a godsend and offering funds to help refurbish his establishment and modernize any archaic practices.
Still, he worried. Harry had, as predicted, rolled over and played snitch like a yellow-tailed pig. Enlightening the board about the Asylum Keeper’s more unsavory practices with a select number of female inmates. Most of the ones he’d had a turn with recently were too blissed out on opiates to bare witness. But the implication alone was damning, particularly on top of the other deficiencies leveled against St. Ciaran Isis.
The door creaked open and a bookish-type ushered him back before the full-paneled board of Social Reform. Matthias teamed with an underlying frenzy. Nobody came into St. Ciaran Isis and superseded his authority. No matter how the cards fell, Greyson would suffer for the privilege.
Poking the top-drawer bastard in the eye with a heated promise, Matthias squared himself for the verdict. He’d let Greyson win this round, damn the fates, but he’d make sure his was the last word. Yeah, he liked that. The very last word.
Chapter 20
Dom watched his brother from behind the desk in his study as he mulled. Stephan advanced on the flickering blaze in the hearth. Firelight sparked off a dance of mahogany highlights in his hair.
“What are you going to do about Greyson’s request?” Even as the younger man posed the question, his eyes had yet to break free of the crackle of scarlet-yellow flame and occasional indigo hiss that chewed up the kindling with burning passion.
“I am inclined to disallow it. I don’t trust these scientific spiritualist types. Science and religion, an unholy union if ever there was one.”
“And the warning?” Stephan fingered the coiled iron poker standing sentry, and sank into a low squat at the edge of the fire’s reach. The writhing flames licked mere inches from his rapt expression, throwing off bold shadows and tiny glowing sparks which landing on his jacket-ed shoulders. His interest bordered on fixation.
“I’ll speak with Cael first. It is wise to consider another’s opinion.” Dominic frowned at the backlit profile, again noting the oddness in his brother’s actions. “Stephan?”
“Hmmm.”
“Are you sure you’re alright? This thing…don’t allow it to mar the rest of your days.”
Just as his fingers reached out into the licking flames, he paused and lowered his arm. “I don’t know if I will ever be as I was before it happened. That person is no more.”
Dominic nodded. “Your life will be different, no doubt, but not without hope. Ethan lives quite content with his gift-”
“There is no comparison. Ethan’s gift is not dangerous to those around him, neither is yours for that matter.” He head snapped around to flash horror-stricken eyes. “I live at the mercy of an evil, seething within, turbulent and deadly, poised to lash out at the slightest provocation. The tiniest lapse of control and I’d be responsible for…” He trailed off. “Mine is not a gift, it’s a curse.”
Dom opened his mouth to protest, but could not think of a single point to make.
“I had thought at first to…” He paused, eyeing Dom with an odd, almost un-nerving expression. “I even acquired a pistol…but I could not. Cael.”
Alarmed, Dominic lurched from behind the desk to come to his brother’s side. Now, he’d have to watch Stephan as he did Eden. “Don’t do anything drastic, please. We will find a solution to this. If it is easier for you here, then stay, indefinitely. Cael will understand.”
His brother straightened, amber orbs blazed with disbelief. “But you dislike unnecessary people loitering about.”
“I will adjust.” He insisted. “I’ve had Ms. Prescott, Kathleen, and Ethan lurking around a fortnight. Even Nonna managed to force a visit. And I haven’t gone ‘round the bend yet.”
“Nonna?” Though he did not smile, Dom could see some of the anxiety ease from his face. “I suppose if you withstood the devil herself, I cannot do much harm.”
Dom smiled, in relief as much as amusement.
* * *
Long after Stephan had departed the study, Dominic mused behind his desk. Alone, he rested his specs on the stained cider desk in front of him. He fiddled with the message, folding and unfolding it along the original lines. The contents of the letter replayed in his mind. Greyson wanted an audience with him, for what reason the letter did not specify. He had most likely omitted the impetus for his request hoping curiosity would lure Dom into granting a meeting. Dom reached back to what he knew of the man. Greyson delved into psionics, the science of adepts and mental instability. Maybe he could help Stephan, or maybe…Dom remember another such scientist, from long ago who claimed to want to help.
“Check his eyes.” She directed.
Lillian always kept a safe distance away, preferring to observe from the shadows of the room’s many archways that spilled into the underground torture chamber.
‘The doctor was tall and reed thin, with a whip of a mustache and a hallow face with skin stretched tight over the skulk. He pried Dominic’s lids back with jabbing fingers and shined a candle at him. Mind-shackled to the pewter stone, all he could manage was to squirm
against the invasion.
“Still he stares out with the devil’s gaze.” The doctor’s voice was the last judgment.
“Purify him.” His mother’s dulcet tone echoed across the wet, musty chamber, mocking her condemning words. “I’ll have my son back. My flesh and blood, not this atrocity hiding behind sweet little Dominic’s face.”
“Come, let us prepare.”
Lillian’s coven of spiritualists filed out through various archways: the druid, the witch, the priest, and finally the doctor, leaving him isolated on the island dais surrounded by chill and misery. The mingled sound of dripping water and scurrying rodents punctuated the nightmarish darkness.
He often wondered why none of them had ever thought to simply gouge out his eyes. Attack the demon at its source. Dominic weighed the alternative: the broken bones, bleedings, stench of scorched hair and flesh. His throat still screamed from retching up the foul concoctions the witch routinely forced into him. All that would cease, if they simply plucked out the mismatched orbs dirtying the windows to his mind. Blindness. It was acceptable to have the ceremonies stop, and the horror of knowing his soul damned to hell fade. His mother might even love him again.
He couldn’t do it himself. He was always restrained either by his mother’s mind or the grated pit. Suggesting the solution to his tormentors was also out of the question. Lillian and her spiritualist cronies were a keen and radical bunch, but he doubted even they would allow the possessed to direct the manner of his own exorcism.
A faint scrambling shattered the silence. His dread spiked, thinking they’d returned sooner than usual to begin the next effort to drive the demon out.
“Dominic?” The thin shaky squeak alleviated his fear. “Dominic, please, I can’t see! Tell me where I’m going.”
He couldn’t shout because his voice just barely worked. “Shhh, don’t let them hear you.”
The scrambling grew louder and more confident.
“Dominic?” His brother’s murmur wafted from a few feet away.
“Here, Ethan.”
“What’s wrong with your voice?” He asked, as he climbed atop the stone platform.
“Nothing, just the chill.” He lied. Though Dominic was younger by a couple of years, his brother Ethan had only recently fallen into the care of their mother. He felt obligated to shield Ethan as much as possible, lest Lillian take it in her mind that he too needed ‘curing’. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Dominic closed his eyes when his brother’s warm gentle fingers closed around his neck. The rawness and the ache faded like liquid through a sieve. “How did you do that?” His voice carried strong and deep.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’ve always been able to.”
“Can you fix my wrist? I think one of em’s broken.”
“I’ll try.” Warm, nervous fingers trailed down both his arms until they found the useless flopping hand.
“Don’t worry about hurting me. They’re both numb.” As with his throat, the feeling and strength flowed back into his hands in a matter of moments. “Never let her know, ever, what you can do. Ever! Promise me.”
“I promise.” The small voice agreed.
“Where are Gideon and Gabriel?”
“Confined in the cellar most of the time. Are they my brothers too?”
“Yeah.” If she’d started in on the twins, she’d eventually turn on Ethan as well. He’d been foolish to hope. “She lets you see them?”
“Sure, whenever I ask. Dominic, how come mama does this to you?”
He stiffened. “It’s mostly the others.”
“Only because she allows it. I know. Gabriel told me. He dreams things, things about you and our mother. He’s how I knew where to come.”
Ahhh, Gabriel. Dominic had wondered about that.
“He wanted me to find out if you were…alive. I did not know what he meant at first. I called him a liar.”
“Ethan.” A plan formed in his mind.
“Yes.”
“Would you do me a favor?” If he could get Ethan to comply, maybe he could trick her.
“Sure.”
“It will be hard. And painful. I would rather not have you involved, but there is no one else.” Once he convinced his mother he was cured, they could devise a plan. His blindness would be a handicap, but it could work. As long as Ethan knew where the twins were and still had access to them.
“What is it?”
Dominic took a deep breath. “The next time you come, bring a metal rod, sharpened to a point and hot. The poker from one of the fireplaces, that’ll do.”
“Do for what?” His brother’s voice shook, seeming to not want the answer to his own question.
“You will gouge out my eyes.” Dominic spoke as commanding as he could. “Then use your fingers to heal up the empty sockets. Make it look like a miracle from Heaven.”
The answering wobble was not encouraging. “But you’ll be blind.”
“Once my eyes are gone, she’ll think I’m normal again and let me out of here.”
“No, Dominic. I…can’t.”
“Yes, you can. It’s the only way. We have to save Gideon and Gabriel before they end up like me.”
“She doesn’t hurt them.”
“She didn’t hurt me at first either.”
“We can find another way.”
“In the meantime they’ll torture me. Do you want that?”
“What if I just keep coming back to heal what they do.”
“That’s not a good plan, Ethan. They’ll notice if I heal too quickly. Or worse, what if mama catches you? And do you want Gabriel to dream about what they do to me? I bet he hasn’t admitted the worse of it.”
“I…I have to go.”
“No, Ethan, wait. Please. Ethan?” But he could already hear the retreating scramble.
“I’ll think of something else.” He called back.
“Ethan!” He strained against the invisible hold.
“Dom.” Cael’s quiet, rational voice answered instead.
“ETHAN!” He snapped back in the chair and shot up to his feet, upending the desk in the process. It flipped over onto its side in a deafening crash with fly-away papers, fallen books, and much scattering of knickknacks.
“Dominic?”
“I want to see him!” Wild-eyed, he raked over the room, but saw nothing but reflections of his own blurred panic. “Where is he? I have to make him understand.”
“Dom, calm down. Whatever was happening to you a moment ago is over now. Ethan is fine; he’s upstairs with Kathleen and Stephan.”
Sweaty and panting, his first sane thought was that he’d crushed the letter. He held its crumpled remains to his forehead, sopping the wetness there. “Oh, Gawd.”
“Are you alright?” He heard Cael’s concerned voice from somewhere close.
“No, I’m not.” He felt the tears coming, but couldn’t stop them. He blinked furiously, trying to bring Cael’s face into focus.
“I’m not alright, Cael. She’ll start in on Gideon next.” Gentle, guiding hands propelled him around the cedar titan and he followed, grateful for their support. “He’s different, too. I couldn’t stop her…I begged Ethan to help me stop her but he wouldn’t…Gideon, Gabriel, then Ethan. Now Stephan. I’m going to kill her!”
“Dom, you’re not making any sense. Come from behind the desk. Come on, come over here and sit down. That’s right, step over the mess.”
“Its my fault.” He should have been able to stop her before she’d gotten to Stephan.
“Dom?” She stepped forward.
His ears perked up at the small female voice. “Eden.”
“Yes.” Her stomach did summersaults when his naked eyes clapped on her face for the first time. They were…haunting. She’d never forget the sight even if this were the only time she had the privilege. His left eye was a striking shade of blue, bright, almost luminescent sky blue. The right one was slate gray, with a lighter pewter variation towards the center. The anguish s
he saw in their depths was a palpable thing. She wanted to go to him immediately, but Cael stayed her just inside the door with a firm gesture.
“Miss Prescott, I think it would be best if you left us alone.”
Eden frowned at Atherton’s suggestion, but her eyes never left Dominic’s frayed expression. “Dom?”
He seemed confused, caught somewhere between past and present. Atherton led his docile bulk over to the sofa facing the hearth. Still, he did not speak to her, merely shifted his gaze from her face to his brother’s hovering concern. Perhaps the mind doctor was right. Dominic would not want her to see him thus and even though it went against her instincts to leave, she believed Atherton would treat him with care.
“You’ll call me if he asks-”
“I promise.”
Chapter 21
Eden ought to be rejoicing. She wasn’t a lunatic. Atherton had proclaimed it so and he was a head doctor. His opinion held weight. But happiness wasn’t on the menu as long as Dominic suffered. She wished that she were the one with him right now. She wanted him to trust and accept comfort from her. She yearned to be the woman he confided in, leaned on, loved. Loved? Where had that word come from? No, he didn’t love her. Desired, sure…but loved? Not likely.
She wandered down the hallway, no particular destination in mine. Her footsteps were muted by the narrow paisley rug that ran across the cherrywood. End tables lurked in alcoves, primed to launch out at her as she ambled past them. The afternoon sun shone through bay windows that resembled giant eyes peering through curtained lashes. She hitched up her shawl, turned right at the familiar fork that led to Dominic’s domain. Despite her host’s warning, Eden spit in the eye of the Goliath door writhing with bas-relief satyrs and winged dragons. She bypassed the sun-bathed pianoforte and crossed into the cozy seclusion of the library. Only, today, she found it wasn’t so secluded.
She did not notice him at first, but suffered a twinge of unease and surveyed her surroundings for the source. When her eyes fell upon the Sphinx, poised in the action of extracting a book from the shelf, she walked out of her shoe.
Dominic's Nemesis Page 14