“Aye.” Stretton’s voice was low. “And the others too.”
He glanced around. Faith saw the mass of filthy, keening humanity, the lack of visitors from outside except for themselves and in a flash knew what he meant to do. Fear shot through her, but also a desire to protect her brother from what was to come. She gripped his hand firmly. “George, you are not to be afraid. Stretton will take us home, home to Ellesmere and Boscobel House. You must be brave, you must not be afraid.”
To her relief she saw comprehension in her brother’s soft eyes, although the only word he mouthed was Faith. Sometimes it took many repetitions for him to understand.
She glanced at Stretton and got to her feet, her hand firmly gripping George’s. “We’re ready.”
Stretton nodded and stepped back into a space that seemed to have formed of its own accord. “Listen to me all of you.” Although he hadn’t seemed to raise his voice, it carried through everything cutting through every wail, every moan. “I am your king, come at last. I will free you, but you must not follow me. Not yet.”
Slowly he raised his hands. Even Pendford was silenced, watching those long, white fingers stretch towards the blackened ceiling high above their heads. Stretton seemed to glow. Then Faith heard him in her mind. Nothing like a little drama. Watch, and do exactly what I tell you.
He brought his hands down.
With a series of great clangs and chinks, all the chains fell away. Padlocks dropped to the ground, gaping open. Stretton looked to Pendford, his eyes cold. “I told you I had the key.”
People surged to their feet, calling out to each other and to the world. The room erupted in a cacophony of noise. Over the unkempt heads of several madmen, Faith saw the door at the end open and a turnkey glance through before leaving quickly and slamming the door behind him. Faith had no doubt he’d turned the key in the lock before he went to sound the alarm.
Stretton gripped Faith’s elbow. “Bring him.”
“Wait.” Pendford’s lean face turned to them, shocked and white. “What have you done? How did you do that? What’s going on?”
Stretton kept hold of Faith, who held George, but turned his attention to the viscount. “You weren’t to know who you were dealing with. You’ve heard of the gods of Mount Olympus? Yes? The benefits of a classical education, eh? Well, you’re looking at one. And you’re working for one, though if you tell him you know he’s likely to kill you for the knowledge. Boscobel is Kronos. I am not. You may guess who I am.”
“Ridiculous.”
“You think so?” With a smile as sinister as Pendford’s, Stretton stepped back. He raised his hand again. At a high place near the door, where the mortar had cracked and fallen away, a trickle of dark red liquid welled. Faith watched her father when he saw the trickle turn into a flood, a stream of the finest Rhenish wine. “My followers do not lack their reward.” He raised his voice. “Celebrate while you may, my children.”
Faith saw the rush of humanity head for the gush of wine, where it flowed on to the filthy floor of the chamber. Stretton spoke quietly, one brief word. “Come.” The silvery glow that enveloped him faded and went out, but the devilish grin remained, the eyes gleaming with more than their usual amusement.
The rush to the door left their end of the room relatively bare. The few that remained gazed at Stretton with awe, except for Pendford. His malicious glare slowly turned to bewilderment and then to a dull acceptance. Stretton’s gaze had not wavered from him. “You are mine, now,” he murmured softly. “For the rest of your life, you are my creature. Do you understand?” Pendford nodded and then, to Faith’s amazement, lifted his hand to his mouth. He stuck his thumb out and, in a grotesque gesture parodying childhood, stuffed it in his mouth and sucked.
Stretton grinned. “He’s too soft, your husband. Your father won’t be a problem anymore. You may claim him when you will.” He drew Faith toward the end wall.
As she watched, another crack, caused by the drying and loosening of old mortar, seemed to grow, the black fissure running to the ground. Was the building to fall about around them? The crack widened until it formed a fissure, and bright sunlight gleamed through the aperture. It moved, seemingly of its own volition, gliding with a grinding sound, away from the rest of the wall.
Stretton didn’t seem to think it anything out of the ordinary. He guided Faith towards the aperture and out through the opening, George scurrying behind her. A couple of madmen followed, blinking in the unaccustomed brightness.
“Close it quickly before they all see it,” Stretton snapped.
Faith saw d’Argento, standing with his hands aloft. He moved them, in an counter-clockwise direction, delineating a strange gesture, and the cluster of bricks ground closed once more. Faith stared at the wall, a few clumps of mortar on the ground the only evidence of their exit.
“Just as well that wall opens to the outside,” Stretton said calmly. “I sent them in the other direction. It should keep the turnkeys busy for a while.”
D’Argento gave him a sideways glance. “Did anyone see you?”
“Oh yes, and Faith’s father, but since he’s now as mad as the rest of them, no one will take any notice. There’ll be such chaos they’ll forget we were ever there.”
“I can guarantee that,” d’Argento replied. “While you were busy inside, I bespelled the guards. None of them will remember the half hour before the riot with any clarity.”
Stretton heaved a theatrical sigh. “My only performance for years labelled a riot.”
D’Argento clapped him on the shoulder. “It always was, my friend. Come, let’s get this boy back to his home. Or better still, to your home.”
Stretton nodded and turned to Faith. “Would you mind if your brother paid me a visit? I cannot think he will find the atmosphere healthy under your father’s roof.”
Faith swallowed, dragging her mind from the almost casual demonstration of power she had just witnessed. “I—er—that is to say, yes, that’s very kind of you.”
Stretton smiled and took her hand. “We don’t do things like that often,” he murmured to her, his voice soothing. “At least, not these days. It tends to invite too much attention. So you won’t be subjected to it—much.”
Faith smiled at him. “It was wonderful, especially the way you punished my father. I may be a poor daughter for thinking that, but he was never a good parent. Will he be mad for very long?”
“Forever. I wasn’t particularly careful when I scrambled his faculties.”
Faith lost the smile. “Forever?”
Stretton pressed her hand. “Not your doing, my dear. I took the decision to do this. Without it, the man would have been a nuisance for a long time to come. You may have him removed from Bedlam, put somewhere quiet with a few keepers.”
“Will he be violent?”
“That depends on him and the way he handles the confusion. I could have killed him, had you preferred it. I still can.”
Faith pulled her hand from his grasp and moved away. “I-I’m not sure. I’ve wanted him dead sometimes, but no, I can’t do that to him.” She confronted both men. “Does that make me a bad person?”
Both shook their heads. “Not in the least,” d’Argento said. “Your father will be perfectly happy in his own world. Bacchus does not often make people miserably mad.”
“Miserably mad,” Stretton said softly, echoing the words with a savouring of his own. “I like that.”
D’Argento gave him a small bow. “Think nothing of it, my friend.”
The cacophony from the house sounded louder, the shrieks more pronounced. “I suggest we shake the dust from our feet,” Stretton said. “Unless I miss my mark, they’ll send for reinforcements soon. We don’t want to be here when that happens. Is there a barracks close?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s hurry, then.”
At Faith’s terse affirmation, they headed at a brisk pace towards the coach, waiting for them at the front of the building.
Stretton’s
house was an unassuming member of a terrace close to Hyde Park, in the most fashionable part of the fashionable part of London. Inside, the house was elegantly fitted out, but not in any way that might draw attention to itself. Its owner could do that all by himself. Faith had vaguely expected louche furniture in crimson velvet and satin, but she saw nothing like that on display.
After seeing George reunited with James and settling him in a comfortable room for a much needed bath and sleep, Faith retired to the drawing room where she enjoyed a dish of tea. Stretton and d’Argento seemed to understand that she needed a respite before the next act was played out. They had assured themselves that Gerard was safe and returning home. Faith badly needed the break.
She watched the gentlemen chat about inconsequential matters. They were careful not to stray beyond the confines of one lifetime, what gentlemen of their seeming age and experience would know. It all seemed quite foolish, as though she had dreamed or imagined it. But she had not. It was disconcertingly real, something she must learn to live with, despite Gerard’s determination to live as a normal man.
There was a point where d’Argento glanced at Stretton and Faith knew they were conversing silently. They exchanged something, a warning perhaps, and then in a flash it was gone. She didn’t mind. She had her brother safe.
Simon could come home. Although of tender years, Simon had the common sense and the maturity of an older man. Forced to grow up early, Simon had been her bedrock and co-conspirator until her father sent him abroad, isolating him from Faith and George. Her father had considered Simon his creature, and they hadn’t disabused him. Now it didn’t matter. Lord Pendford was mad.
If anyone asked Faith, she would have said that Lord Pendford had always been mad.
Chapter Nineteen
Stretton accompanied Faith home, but he decided to leave her once satisfied she was in Gerard’s care. There were, he informed her, things he had to do.
Entering the large hall, Faith heard the unmistakable sound of laughter from above. Glancing at Stretton, she saw his frown and knew he was as surprised as she to hear mirth in such a deeply divided household.
Stay close, he warned her. She nodded. Faith, I want you to do something. Keep one corner of your mind secret, just for me. Only for now. I can help you to do that.
Faith stared at him, but answered. Yes, very well. Except for Gerard, of course.
The response came startlingly strong. No! No one else, just us. Promise me, Faith.
They had no time to argue. Faith, already concerned by the sound of that unforced laughter, agreed. She was wise enough to realize she hadn’t learned everything yet, and for all Gerard’s newfound strength, he was a novice too.
Stretton took her hands in his. “I’ll leave you now, but I’ll stay close. If you need me, call. And if you will, leave your mind open to me. You’re a strong woman. I want to help you if I can.” He lifted one hand to his mouth and kissed the back, with all the flair of his ebullient nature. Faith smiled and turned away as he left.
The laughter came again. Puzzled, Faith climbed the stairs after giving a footman her hat and gloves. She followed the sound another flight of stairs, to Deborah’s bedroom and recognized the unmistakable sound of Gerard’s laughter.
Thank God.
Faith tapped on the door and walked straight in.
Only Gerard and Deborah were in the room, both in a state of undress. Gerard’s shirt was gone, leaving him in breeches and stockinged feet. Deborah wore a fetching nightgown and a dressing gown open at the front. Her hair was down.
Both started in surprise at the sight of Faith. Gerard came forward at once, both hands outstretched. “Faith, you’re here at last.”
Faith tried to persuade herself of the innocence of this scene, that Gerard was merely visiting his sister before changing his clothes for the evening, but she could not. She knew.
She backed away, putting her hands behind her back so she would not be forced to take his. “What have you done?” she whispered, her voice emerging as a feeble croak.
“Nothing yet.” Gerard reached for his dressing gown and shrugged into it. “We’ve found a solution, Faith, a way of continuing.” He glanced over his shoulder at his sister. “Deborah is one of us.”
“What?”
“She’s an Ancient,” Gerard said patiently.
Faith’s head spun. Gerard smiled understandingly in a way that made her palms itch to slap him.
The door opened behind her and the duke stood in the threshold. Faith spun to stare at him, her back to the wall. The duke had that same smug look she’d seen on his son’s face.
Something was wrong, very wrong.
“My dear,” the duke said smoothly. He came into the room and closed the door. “Allow me to explain. My children may have been a little precipitous in their actions, but they are on the right track at last. Please, sit down.”
Faith would have refused, but her knees were trembling. She heard Stretton’s voice in her mind. I’m here. I can hear and see through you. Find out what’s going on.
Faith sank into a spindle-legged chair which Gerard brought to her. She stared at the duke, unwilling to look at Gerard in his state of undress. It hurt.
“Well, my dear, you have come on the truth in an unfortunate manner, but you had to know.” The duke smiled urbanely. “Deborah is one of us. She is more than that. She is Juno.” Faith suppressed a gasp. “Juno was the queen of the gods, the consort of the king. That’s Zeus, Jupiter. My son.”
This was a dream. It couldn’t be real.
But it could. “My downfall has always been my son, through time, through lifetimes, but not now. We have come to an agreement that will save us both.”
Faith felt Gerard trying to contact her, waves of anxiety beating at her when she tried to resist. She heard Stretton again. Let him in. Let them all in. Don’t fight it. They will break you if you try to fight them. I will be here, but no one will know. Be brave, Faith.
The only voice she trusted lay outside this room. She obeyed him, opening her mind to her husband. Waves of love and reassurance reached her, waves that made her feel sick when she remembered when they had come to her before. Was he dissimulating, then? Had all this been a trick?
Gerard’s voice, firm and strong, sounded in her head. No, my sweet love, no. I love you, and I will always love you. This is temporary. If we see this through, happiness waits for us at the end of it.
Faith’s imagination was providing her with all sorts of unwelcome images, images she wanted dispelled for good. She had escaped from one difficult situation, only to be blindsided by another one.
“You know some of the history between Jupiter and Juno, do you not?” Faith stared at the duke, nodded her understanding. She doubted she was capable of speech yet. The duke gave a smile of triumph. “We have kept Deborah’s true nature quiet, because we had no need to reveal it.” The smile broadened. “Gerard has signalled his willingness to make me an heir, one who will be everything I want.”
At the thought, Faith’s protest came, before she had time to censor it. “An heir to rule the world? One to control?”
“Ah yes, my dear, I see you do understand. But Gerard made his choice. He will live as a man, breed tediously short-lived children, and when you die, he will die.”
“Will he not have Ancients with me?”
Boscobel shook his head. “No.”
He stared at Faith, his eyes peculiarly transfixing. Faith stared back, but she felt a jolt in her head, a release of energy. Wincing, she looked down at her hands, tightly clasped in her lap. I’m sorry, Faith. You mustn’t look at him directly again. Glance, but don’t stare. She understood. She had felt the compulsion and not resisted it, but now she wasn’t looking at him anymore.
The duke had tried to control her thoughts. Perhaps that was how he had compelled Gerard. Hope rose within her. Could she bring Gerard back?
“No.” Gerard spoke aloud, his words dropping into the bottomless pit of her soul. “I do
this of my own free will. If we agree to this, Father will leave us alone. We can live our lives in peace. I’ll do anything for that.”
Faith’s head lifted, and she looked at Gerard for the first time. He was sincere, it appeared. “How can you?” she asked, her voice clogged with unshed tears that rose unbidden to her eyes when she looked at him. He was so dear, even now.
“It’s the only way. My father is an immortal. He’ll never leave us alone if we don’t help him now.”
That didn’t sound like Gerard, her Gerard, the man of fierce passions and utter devotion, the fair-minded man she had fallen in love with.
Hold on.
“He wants a child. One male child, to bring up in the way he wants to. I’m no good to him, now that I’ve chosen you, but he’s willing to wait a lifetime. Our lifetime.”
Faith couldn’t believe that. “He’ll kill you. When he has what he wants, he’ll kill you.”
She felt the duke coming closer and heard his voice, soothing in her mind. She slammed the door and at once felt a battening, a pressure she couldn’t resist for long. Trying for distraction, she turned to Deborah.
Deborah stood watching her, her dark hair tumbling about her shoulders, her eyes gleaming. She looked magnificent. Queenly. The self-effacing, kind woman had gone, replaced by this. Her smile chilled Faith right through. “I could watch people and help Father if no one knew who I was. I’m his insurance policy. Gerard turned out wrong. He could never see how right Father’s scheme was. He has given so much to achieve this, and he will make the world a better place, a fairer place. It’s time the Ancients returned to their rightful position.” Her soft, persuasive voice remained the same, but now Faith recognized what lay behind it. Ambition as ruthless as her father’s.
“You will take away free will and justice,” Faith said softly. “Because we are shorter lived, it doesn’t mean we are inferior to you in any way. We are not. I cannot recall one invention by the gods. You needed Daedalus for that, Newton and Galileo.”
Lightning Unbound: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 1 Page 25