by C. J. Archer
“And what is that?” Brockwell asked.
“I didn’t see that large gentleman with the long white moustache in the days before my husband’s death. It was some time ago. Weeks, I think. He bought a toy.”
Brockwell frowned. “You said he only spoke to your husband. You never mention him buying something.”
“I was a little muddled last time we spoke. I hope my confusion hasn’t caused any problems.”
“Not at all.” He thanked her for the information and opened the front door.
Matt wasn’t quite ready to leave, however. “Are you sure he wasn’t here last week?”
She shook her head. “I’m sure.”
“Just think for a moment.”
Her face crumpled. “Yes. I think so.”
I placed a hand on Matt’s arm then followed the others out. He exited behind me. I crossed the pavement and had one foot on the carriage step when a gunshot rang out.
A woman screamed. Willie leaped out of the carriage, knocking me aside. Her face was ashen, her eyes full of raw fear. I would have fallen if Duke hadn’t caught me by the shoulders. His alarmed gaze didn’t seem to see me, however. It focused on the entrance to the toyshop.
Then he let me go and crouched beside Matt, lying in the doorway. A patch of blood bloomed on Matt’s clothes. The patch grew and grew as his eyelids fluttered closed.
Chapter 8
“Matt!” Willie’s scream drowned out the voices of those who’d stopped to look. “MATT!”
I fell to my knees at his side. He breathed, thank God, and his eyes re-opened. His gaze connected with mine. It was full of pain that I knew he was trying to suppress for my sake. For his sake, I tried not to cry, but my cheeks were damp and I found it hard to breathe. Matt’s own breathing suddenly turned ragged and shallow.
He didn’t have much time.
My blood thundered between my ears, but it didn’t block out Willie’s and Duke’s shouts.
“The watch! Where’s the goddamned watch?” Willie tore open Matt’s jacket, then fumbled with his waistcoat. She swore when her trembling fingers couldn’t manage the buttons.
I took over, my hands surprisingly steady. My tears stopped and my heart ceased its manic rhythm. Calm settled over me. I couldn’t crumble and fall in a heap. Not yet. Not when Matt needed me to be sensible, to be the strength he didn’t have.
My fingers found the hidden pocket on the inside of his waistcoat and I pulled out the watch. Someone had removed his gloves so I placed the watch in his bare hand. The magic bloomed. It was the most beautiful sight in the world and I would never tire of seeing it move through him, mixing with the blood in his veins, giving them an unnatural color that was like nothing else in nature. I watched as it disappeared beneath his sleeve and reappeared at his collar, spreading along the veins, both large and small, of his neck and face.
When it reached his heart, he drew in a deep breath and suddenly sat up. I threw my arms around him, trapping the watch between us. Its intense magical heat warmed me through to my bones.
Before he closed the watch case, I whispered the extension spell for good measure. Then I fell into a sobbing mess.
A set of arms came around us and Willie’s voice muttered a string of expletives in my ear. But I could tell she was both smiling and crying as she said them.
After a few moments, she stood and stepped back, her hand out to help Matt to his feet. He took it, gave it a squeeze, smiled at her, and returned his watch to his pocket. He then drew me against his body and kissed my forehead.
“I’m all right.” He caressed my cheek with his thumb and smiled down at me. “You saved my life, India. Again.”
I tried to smile up at him but it was wobbly and unconvincing.
Matt broke the tender moment upon Mrs. Trentham’s gasp.
“I can’t believe you’re alive,” she whispered from the doorway.
I looked around and saw that Brockwell kept onlookers at bay. Duke had disappeared and Matt asked after him.
Brockwell peered along the street. “He went after the carriage, but it was going fast.”
I followed his gaze. “The shooter was inside?”
“Was it the same carriage that followed us?” Matt asked.
Brockwell shook his head. “I don’t know. It looked the same, but unmarked black growlers are as common as mud around London. I couldn’t see the shooter, I’m afraid.”
Two constables ran up to us, breathing heavily. Brockwell identified himself then directed the policemen to speak to witnesses.
Willie pushed Matt in the back, urging him toward our conveyance. “Get in. It ain’t safe for you out here.”
Matt hesitated until he caught sight of my glare. With a grim smile, he obliged, and we waited in the carriage for Duke’s return. I clung to Matt’s hand lest he decide to get out again, and also because I simply needed to hold him.
“We’ll have Gabe Seaford check you over,” I said. As a magician doctor, he was the only one I trusted to tell me that Matt had fully recovered. Anyone else would wonder why he wasn’t dead.
“That won’t be necessary,” Matt said. “I feel fine.”
With his jacket and waistcoat still open, the bullet hole in the shirt was clearly visible. I tore it to widen it and gingerly touched his stomach. His skin was still slick with blood, but there was no wound. Not even a scratch.
“The magic is strong in that watch,” he murmured. “I feel normal. Better than normal. I feel—”
“Don’t you dare say invincible,” Willie snapped.
“I was going to say I feel like a youth again.”
She grunted. “Sometimes you acted like you were invincible back then.”
“That was the bourbon.”
Duke returned and squeezed next to Willie. He was puffing hard. “You all right?” he asked Matt in between deep breaths.
“Fine. Did you see who fired the shot?”
Duke shook his head. “He wore a low hat and a scarf covered most of his face.”
“Could have been a she, not a he,” Willie reminded us. She fixed Matt with a stern glare. “So who’s trying to kill you?”
“I might not have been the target.”
I rounded on him. “No, Matt. You’re not denying it this time. That bullet was meant for you.”
“This time?” Brockwell echoed from where he stood on the pavement.
“Someone tried to shoot him outside the The Weekly Gazette’s office before Christmas.”
Brockwell leaned into the cabin. “I remember, but I thought Barratt was the target.”
“We assumed he was because Sir Charles Whittaker sent a thug to beat him up, but there was always doubt. After today, I’m convinced Matt was the intended victim then. It’s too coincidental for it to be otherwise.”
Matt opened his mouth to speak, but Willie stabbed her finger into the air near his nose. “Don’t you dare try to deny it. You hear me? India’s right and you know it.”
Matt clamped his mouth shut and eyed me sideways.
“So who wants to kill you?” Brockwell pressed.
Matt shrugged. “Coyle, perhaps.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a thorn in his side. Or Whittaker, for the same reason.”
My fingers tightened around Matt’s. Both men would deny it if we confronted them about the shootings. So what should we do?
“You have to stay inside the house until the gunman is caught,” Willie said, her mind following the same path as mine.
“I can’t. We’re in the middle of an investigation.”
She wagged her finger at him. “You listen to me, Matt. This ain’t a negotiation. You’re staying home until we find out who’s trying to kill you.”
Before Matt could respond, I leaned across him to speak to Brockwell. “Inspector, please ask Woodall to drive to the Belgrave Hospital for Children in Pimlico.”
Brockwell waved us off and the carriage jerked forward. Willie and Duke glared at Matt, while Matt pr
etended not to notice. We sat in taut silence until we arrived at the hospital where Gabe Seaford worked.
Gabe declared Matt to be in perfect health and sent him home. I insisted on checking him over myself, however, and ordered him to the bedroom. I threw his ruined shirt into the corner, but saved the jacket and waistcoat for cleaning. Mrs. Bristow was going to get a shock when she saw the bloodstains.
Gabe had cleaned the immediate area on Matt’s stomach where the bullet had entered so I cleaned the rest. The damp cloth revealed the muscular ridges of his body, but no sign of the wound. It had completely healed. It was miraculous, but I felt more relieved than awed. Tears filled my eyes as I washed him, blurring my vision until I could no longer see what I was doing.
“India,” he purred. He took the cloth from me and returned it to the basin of water. “Come here.” He drew me against him and I buried my face in his shoulder. He held me as I sobbed, stroking my back and neck, up into my hair.
When my crying eased, he clasped my face between his hands, wiping my damp cheeks with his thumbs. I blinked up at him.
“I’m fine,” he said with a smile. “So no more tears. Be happy that your magic is strong. I feel fitter than I ever have.”
I removed his hands and clasped them against my chest. “Today was…awful. I don’t ever want to feel such panic and dread again. It’s happened too many times already, and I thought after Sheriff Payne was caught that it was over. But it’s not.”
“We’ll find who did it.”
“How? Where do we even begin?”
“Someone might have seen something. We’ll wait for Brockwell’s report.” He kissed my forehead. “We can’t do much more than that.”
“We can, Matt!”
“I can confront Whittaker, I suppose. Along with Coyle, he’s the most likely—”
“You will do no such thing.” I clasped his hands tighter. “You’re not leaving this house until the shooter is caught.”
He gave me an arched look. “Be serious, India. I can’t hide away.”
“It’s not hiding, it’s staying safe. If you don’t want to stay here, we can go to the country or the seaside.”
He shook his head. “I’ll continue on as normal. We have an investigation—”
“Forget the investigation! Brockwell and I can continue without you.”
“Oh, so you can investigate, but I must remain holed up in here?”
I ground my back teeth together. He was being purposely stubborn. I should have expected his masculine pride to be dented, but I didn’t think he’d be stupid. “Matt, this is important. You have to stay safe until the gunman is caught.”
He let me go and sat on the bed with a heavy sigh. He leaned his elbows on his knees and dragged a hand through his hair. When his hand came away, he peered up at me through the dark strands. “My life has been on borrowed time for years.”
“I wouldn’t put it like that.”
“Call it what you want, India, but it’s true. I shouldn’t even be here. I should have died years ago.”
“Stop it, Matt!”
He took my hand. “Every day of living since I almost died in Broken Creek is a gift. Every moment after your grandfather and the doctor magician placed the magic into my watch is one I should never have lived. I won’t waste this second chance by doing nothing. I’m going to live well and by my own rules. That doesn’t involve staying indoors like an invalid. I am healthy and strong and alive. I owe it to the magic to live the best life I can.” His thumb caressed my knuckles. “Do you understand?”
I jerked my hand free. “Can you not do this for me? For the others who love you?”
“I would do anything for you, India. Anything. Even this, if you insist.” The pain in his voice grated on my already frayed nerves. “But you’ll be caging me for an indefinite period of time. You know that. So please don’t ask.” He reached for me, but I stepped away.
I turned my back to him and fussed with the objects on my dressing table without really seeing them. Matt wrapped his fingers around my upper arms, but I shrugged him off. My throat tightened and my eyes stung with more tears, but after a few deep breaths I calmed down. I couldn’t look at him, however. Not yet. My heart felt so exposed that I knew I’d burst into tears if I saw the anguish in his eyes.
“India, please, accept my decision.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and lifted my chin. “Get dressed and come downstairs to inform the others. I’ll see you in the drawing room.”
“India!”
I marched out and closed the door on him. He could have opened it but he chose not to. I leaned back against the wall and expelled a ragged breath. Damn it, Matt.
I made my way to the drawing room where Duke, Willie and Aunt Letitia sat. From Aunt Letitia’s cheerful conversation, I knew the others hadn’t told her what happened. I arched a brow at Duke and he gave a slight shake of his head in confrontation.
We spent the afternoon in a strange kind of fog. If Aunt Letitia thought it odd that we were all home, yet hardly spoke a word to one another, she didn’t say. Perhaps she assumed it was because the weather had turned nasty. Sleet battered the windows and a cold wind blew down the chimney, fanning the flames. She insisted we pass the time by playing cards.
It was a relief when Cyclops arrived home. He immediately knew something was amiss but thankfully refrained from asking. It wasn’t until Aunt Letitia left the room to dress for dinner that we were able to inform him.
There followed the same discussion that Matt and I’d had upstairs. I didn’t participate, but the other three made the same case in increasingly loud voices. Matt continued to refuse to stay safely off the street. When they argued back, his temper rose. It rarely made an appearance, but when it did, it was rather ferocious.
“You’re being stubborn, Matt.” Willie was on her feet, wagging her finger at him.
He batted it away. “That’s enough. All of you. I’ve made my decision, and it’s final.”
“Be reasonable,” Cyclops begged. “You have to stay home.”
“Would you?” Matt shot back. Upon Cyclops’s sigh, Matt marched across the floor only to return. “This is my decision to make. Nobody else’s. Is that clear?”
Willie crossed her arms with a humph. “Goddamned stubborn idiot.”
Duke snapped his fingers. “I got an idea. India, you can have him committed.”
“To an asylum?” Matt barked a humorless laugh. “You’re the mad one if you think India would do that.”
Duke ignored him and continued to address me. “You need a doctor’s approval. Dr. Seaford would write a letter, I reckon.”
Willie nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll visit Gabe tomorrow. Well, India? What do you say?”
I turned to Cyclops. “What do you think? About staying home, I mean, not about the asylum.”
“Thank you,” Matt muttered wryly.
“Don’t ask me that, India,” Cyclops said.
“I am asking.”
Cyclops rubbed the back of his neck and winced. “The thing is…he’s right. If it were me, I wouldn’t stay home either.” He put his hands up to ward off Duke and Willie’s protests. “He’s still a target if he remains here. That won’t change. But if he maintains an unpredictable schedule of coming and going, it makes it harder for the shooter to try again.”
Willie threw her hands in the air. “That’s the stupidest thing to ever come out of your mouth, Cyclops. If Matt stays in here, he won’t answer the door, he won’t go near the windows, he’ll just stay inside and be safe.”
“What kind of life is that for a man like him?” Cyclops turned to me. “I can’t ask him to do something I wouldn’t do myself.”
Matt sat beside me and took my hand in both of his. The intensity in his eyes alarmed me. “India.”
Bristow entered and announced Brockwell’s arrival. The inspector shuffled in, scratching his scruffy sideburns. His cheeks were flushed from the cold and his hair flat from his hat. He didn�
��t look like he belonged in a Mayfair drawing room, but this was no typical Mayfair house.
He greeted Willie with a small smile, the sort that he reserved just for her, and she attempted a smile in return. I wanted to smile too, but my heart wasn’t in it. Not tonight. I was too upset and too aware of the man sitting beside me. Even though I didn’t look at him, I sensed Matt hadn’t taken that intense gaze off me.
“India,” he pressed. “Say something.”
I pulled my hand free. “Bristow, is dinner almost ready?”
“I believe it’s five minutes away, madam.”
“Then please sound the gong to alert Miss Glass. We’ll make our way to the dining room now.”
With Aunt Letitia present, we kept our conversations to innocuous topics. I asked after Catherine, which made Cyclops smile.
“She’s well,” he said. “She likes working in the shop. She’s getting real good at knowing all the different names for clock and watch parts too.”
“And her parents?”
His smile faded. “Her mother is still trying to convince her to look for a…suitable husband. Not that Catherine told me that. Ronnie did after I asked him to keep me informed. He also told me Abercrombie dined at their house last week.”
I pulled a face. “No doubt he complained about me the entire time.”
“I believe your name came up.”
“And yours?”
“Ronnie said I wasn’t mentioned. I don’t think the Masons want to acknowledge my existence by speaking my name to their friends.”
“They will have to acknowledge you soon, or they’ll lose Catherine. And I wouldn’t call Abercrombie their friend. Mr. Mason detests him.”
“Then why was he dining there?”
That was a good question. I suspected it was because he’d somehow wormed his way into their good graces.
“Catherine was angry with them for inviting him, so Ronnie told me. She stood up to her parents over it.” He sounded proud of her.
As was I. Catherine had matured so much since she’d fallen in love with Cyclops. Although she was only a few years younger than me, sometimes the age gap had felt larger. She could be silly at times, and an incorrigible flirt, but that had all changed in recent months. “What do you think Catherine has planned to convince her mother that you’re worthy of her?”