Of Sin & Sanctuary: A Revelry’s Tempest Novel

by K. J. Jackson

  “No. You had hoped I would be dead.”

  Theo flinched, her words true to the mark.

  Her look dipped to the floor as her fingers unthreaded, her palms flattening the front of her dark skirts. Her eyes lifted to him. “You told me George would be fine, Alton. You told me he would survive, that there was no need for me to accompany him—but the whole time you knew—you knew he was about to die on that mission into that arsenal and you didn’t let me save him.”

  “No, I didn’t. I was too intent on saving you. I wasn’t about to let you die in that hellfire as well.” Theo’s look hardened at her. For as many times as he had told her this, she never heard him. Never believed him. Refused to believe him. “That is what would have happened if you had gone in with George. You would have been killed. It was an easy decision to make.”

  “Killing George was an easy decision?” She scoffed a bitter chuckle. “You truly are a cold one, Alton.” She paused, her head shaking as her smile curled into a snarl. “You took that choice away from me. It was my decision to make—to go in with George. I was ready to die if it meant saving him.”

  “That is exactly why I did not let you go. You were far too valuable to lose to a stupid sacrifice such as that.”

  “To die for the man I loved? That would have been stupid?”

  “Yes.”

  Her head slanted to the side as she stared at him. Ever so slowly, the serene smile fell back into place on her lips. “How do you feel now about love, Alton?”

  Reacting without thinking, his savage charge forward was stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder.

  Logan. Thank the heavens he had enlisted the man’s help.

  Theo stilled, his glare piercing Fiona. “Your grievance is with me, Fiona. Take me. Leave Violet out of this.”

  Her hand lifted, forefinger tapping on her lower lip. She shook her head. “No. That hardly seems fair. You made the choice for me once. Killing the man I loved. Not giving me the chance to save him.” She met his glare with serenity. “Now I make the choice for you.”

  “Fiona—that was war. War. A war now over. The men in the war—you, me—we were all guilty. We all played the game of it and we knew it. We knew death was a part of it. I knew it. George knew it. You knew it. You played the game the same as the rest of us.” He stopped, drawing a breath to calm the tremor in his voice. “But Violet is innocent. She had nothing to do with that time. She does not deserve this and you know that.”

  “Do I?” Her left hand went to her hip. “Life is war, Theo. Death, suffering will always be a part of life whether we are in the middle of a war or not. I have had to suffer under the decision you made three years ago, Alton. So now you will suffer under the decision I make.”

  Logan’s fingers tightened on Theo’s shoulder, stopping him before his muscles coiled into action. Theo hadn’t even realized Logan’s hand had remained on his shoulder, holding him in place. His respect for the man increased a hundred-fold.

  Theo took a long breath and then nodded, conjuring his own mask of indifference. Practiced, masterful—the detachment settled onto his face, the same as it had during the war. That the remnant of who he once was came so easily stung, searing him down to his soul. Stung because it was a remnant of the atrocities he had committed during the war—the atrocities he had witnessed—the atrocities he had manipulated into place. A callous reminder of the past he had thought to never have to revisit again.

  But for Violet. For Violet he would drown himself in any hell that he needed to.

  “I have something that will persuade you otherwise, Fiona.”

  “You have nothing that could sway me, Alton.”

  Theo looked over his shoulder to Logan and gave him a nod.

  Logan’s hand dropped from Theo’s shoulder and he disappeared out into the front foyer of Fiona’s townhouse.

  Theo stepped to the side, clearing the space of the drawing room doorway. It only took a few seconds and Logan reappeared, his hand clasped onto the arm of a man that he dragged along with him.

  Logan stepped into the room, pushing the man—clad in rags of clothes, with flea-infested hair and beard that had not been cut in years, and his wrists bound in front of him—forward.

  “No…no…no.” Fiona’s desperate whisper filled the room as she clutched her chest, her head shaking, shock sending her eyes wide in disbelief.

  She stepped backward, almost into the fire. Theo jumped forward, grabbing her shoulders and jerking her away from the fireplace before the flames could lick the back of her skirts.

  She looked up at Theo, then back to the man, her words haunted. “Geor…George?”

  The man nodded.

  “What…how?”

  “He didn’t die in that arsenal explosion, Fiona,” Theo said. “No. Instead, George turned traitor.”

  Her gaze shot to Theo. “No—he—he wouldn’t have—never.”

  “He did.”

  Her look crept to her lover. “George?”

  His face pained, emphasizing the sallowness of his cheeks above his ragged, unkempt beard, George offered one nod.

  “He has been a prisoner since that time,” Theo said.

  Fiona had to tear her eyes off of George to look at Theo. “But why—why did you not tell me?”

  “Would you have believed me? Or would you have joined him, Fiona? It was easier that he was dead. We could protect his family. They did not deserve to pay for his sins. And I could protect you—protect you from yourself. I know how much you loved him. What he would have made you do.”

  Her head shook, disbelief still shining in her eyes as she searched George’s face. “So he died a hero instead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yet the whole time he has been…” Her look whipped to Theo. “Where? Where has he been?”

  “Newgate.”

  “All this time…” She gulped, her eyebrows drawing together as she took a step toward George. And then another step. And another. “All this time and you were here…so close.” She stopped directly in front of him, her hand slowly lifting, her fingers shaking as they reached to touch his cheek.

  A soft cry escaped her mouth as her hand flattened against the side of his grizzled face. Tears streaming down her cheeks, her green eyes shifted to belief. “You are alive.”

  George nodded, his pained eyes reflecting hers. “I am.”

  Theo audibly cleared his throat.

  George’s look tore away from Fiona to glance at Theo. His eyes hardening, he sighed, his look dropping back to Fiona. “You need to tell him, Fiona. Tell him where that woman is at.” His voice crackled dry over the words, a throat not accustomed to talking.

  Fiona’s head jerked back, her eyes snapping out of shock. She looked over her shoulder at Theo, and then back to George.

  “You have to tell him, Fiona,” George said. “Tell him where Lady Vandestile is.”

  “But you—no—I cannot—”

  “He promised we could be together, Fiona. He swore it. But you have to tell him.”

  Fiona’s head dropped forward, her body sagging as her forehead rested onto the tattered cloth of George’s shirt.

  For a long minute, the room froze.

  Patience.

  Patience.

  Patience.

  Theo repeated the word over and over in his mind as he stared at the side of Fiona’s head.

  Patience.

  Don’t mind that she was taking her blasted sweet time about it. That Violet could be in hurt, in pain.

  Patience.

  If he pushed Fiona, Violet could very well be lost to him.

  A quick intake of breath, and Fiona lifted her head, her gaze rising to look into George’s eyes. Her look not leaving her love, her mouth opened. “She is in the mine.”

  “What?” Theo’s yell filled the room.

  “Your mine in Derbyshire. She is there. Shackled below. I knew you would stumble upon her…eventually.” Her calm eyes refused to leave George’s face.

  Theo’
s breath, his chest, his heart, dropped to the floor, his legs almost giving out. No. Not the mine. Not Violet in the terror of what that mine did to her. Hell. Pure hell. No.

  Theo stumbled one step forward, fully intent on choking the life out of the blasted woman. But then he veered just before Logan intercepted him.

  He wasn’t going to waste one minute. Not one second.

  Violet would not be forced to spend one more moment in that mine than necessary.

  He ran to the door, passing Logan.

  “Alton—you swore it,” George called out after him.

  Without breaking stride, Theo looked back to Logan. “Put her in a cell next to him.”

  Logan nodded. “I will follow as soon as it is done.”

  Theo barely heard his words, as he was already out Fiona’s front door.

  He slammed it behind him.

  Blast it to hell that it had taken a full day to find George in that unearthly jail. If it hadn’t taken so long…

  Dammit. He could already be pulling Violet from the mine.

  He ran down the street, shoving people out of the way, no time for anything other than getting on a horse and riding like hellfire all the way to Glenhaven.

  ~~~

  Theo’s boots splashed into the muck at the bottom of the shaft, his palms stinging from the burn the rope caused on his quick descent.

  He had arrived at the mine with rain pouring and daylight waning, only to find the ladder down into the mine had been destroyed—hacked to pieces. That he’d had to find a rope to descend had driven him to near insanity—especially when there had been no response to his bellowing Violet’s name down the shaft.

  His burning hands were reward for not taking care as he should have as he dropped into the mine.

  He turned, spotting her instantly just past the open shaft, a huddled lump against the wall of the mine just before the first curve. A lump buried under folds of cloth. A dull shard of light twisted into the darkness, revealing a heavy iron chain curled out from under her chemise, snaking its way to a flat iron plate pounded into the granite. An odd trough into the granite ringed the plate, bits of smashed rock smattered all around it.

  No words. No blasphemes. No scream.

  Not one thing loud or long or hard enough to express the numbing rage seizing his body.

  His feet lead weights in the muck, he walked to Violet slowly, barely holding back the need to run to her and grab her and smother her in his arms. No. He had to restrain. He had to move slow—slow, so he didn’t surprise her. Slow, so he didn’t upset whatever balance she had left in her mind—assuming she still held to sanity.

  He remembered too well her reaction the last time she was in the mine. It was the only thing in his mind the entire ride to Glenhaven. Her fear, her unyielding terror had been brutal to watch once, and his obsessive imaginations did him no favors as he thought of Violet below ground, in the dirt, alone, wet, cold.

  He stopped at the plate hammered into the granite, kicking at it. It didn’t shift, the nails still embedded deep in the rock.

  The tip of his boot mushed into the mud by the chain as his eyes fixated on the mess of cloth over her torso, searching and praying for her chest to rise in a breath.

  “Vee.” His voice cracked, the whisper barely audible to his own ears. He swallowed hard, then opened his mouth again as he dropped to balance on his heels. “Vee.”

  He reached out, his fingers landing softly on her knee, her thin wet chemise the only barrier between his hand and her skin. He looked at the mess of silk about her body, realizing what she had done. She had ripped the skirt off her gown at some point, using it to wrap around her upper body for warmth.

  Theo had to shove back boiling rage. She had been dumped here in her gala gown—a flimsy little affair that offered no protection against the cold.

  No food. No water. No way out or in. Only her gown.

  The harsh truth of what Fiona had truly intended shook him.

  Violet was never supposed to survive this.

  A cold, miserable death.

  That was what Fiona had intended for him to find.

  The cell he had sent the witch to was far too generous.

  His trembling hands went down to Violet’s ankle, searching for the shackle attached to the chain. Finding it, he pulled her leg straight. The iron around her ankle had a heavy lock on it. A lock that was never meant to open.

  With a shudder, he squeezed Violet’s knee, gently shaking it. “Vee.”

  No response.

  His hands traveled upward, shifting the cloth, now black with dirt and mud. Tugging the silk downward, he could finally see her face. Her left hand was curled into a ball, limp in front of her nose.

  He searched through the jumble of cloth until he found her back, rubbing it. “Vee.”

  A breath.

  A jerk.

  He rubbed harder. “Vee—Vee, wake up.”

  A moan.

  He pulled away, tearing off his coat and then setting it about her body, lifting her to slide it underneath her torso.

  In that moment, he saw the blood. He had thought it dirt covering her hand at first, but now closer, he knew it was blood. He dropped the jacket to pick up her hand, uncurling her fingers from the cocoon they had been folded into.

  Her fingertips were bloody, nails nearly gone, worn down to scabs, her skin torn with blood and pus in a mess all the way to her wrist. His look scurried about the ground and he spotted the rock, instantly understanding. She had been trying to pound her way free from the granite.

  For days.

  Making her hands a bloody mess in the process.

  The rage in his gut multiplied beyond what he thought possible.

  “Vee.” His voice was hard now, no longer under control. “Vee, you have to wake up.” He found a shoulder and shook her, no longer gentle. “Wake up, Vee. Now.”

  A moan. Her eyelashes slowly fluttered as a long exhale left her lips. “Theo.”

  “Yes—yes.” His hands went to her head, grasping her face between his palms. “That’s it, Vee. Wake up. I am here.”

  It took an agonizing moment for her eyes to open fully to him. She blinked hard several times, unable to focus. “Theo?”

  “Yes. I’m here, Vee. Right before you.”

  She nodded in his grasp, her eyes closing. “I am stuck. I couldn’t break the chain. But the granite I am almost through.”

  “I know. You did good. And I am going to speed this up and get you out of here.”

  The faintest smile came to her lips, her words a whisper. “I knew you would find me.”

  He leaned forward, kissing her forehead hard. “I always will, Vee.”

  She nodded again. “Let us go. I…I don’t know if I can walk. I am so…weak.”

  “I have to free the chain, Vee.”

  “The chain…it is still on me?” Her head shifted forward so she could look in the general direction of her feet. She couldn’t focus on it.

  “Can you not feel it?”

  “No.”

  “I have to go to get tools, Vee. I can’t get it off of you without them.”

  Her eyes lifted to him. “Just get it off of me, Theo, so we can go. I want to go. Leave.”

  His hand went to her forehead, pressing back matted hair from her face. “I want to Vee, I would give anything to have a way to get the blasted iron off you in this moment. But I have to go to the stables. I have to get tools to get it off of you. I can wedge the plate from the rock if nothing else and we can deal with the rest at Glenhaven.”

  She gasped, the quick influx of air in her lungs causing her to cough. “You…you are leaving me down here?”

  “No, not leaving. I will be back in an instant. Just to the stables, and I will be back.”

  “Don’t leave me.” Unmistakable panic spiked in her voice. “Theo, you cannot leave me down here.”

  “I have to, Vee. Only for a few minutes so I can get tools—help. I have to get ropes, a ladder. I cannot get you ou
t of here by myself.”

  “But you can. Just get it off, Theo.” She grasped the front of his shirt, tugging. “Don’t go. Please, please, don’t leave me down here.”

  His fingers went over the back of her hands, clamping onto her. “You have to trust me, Vee. It will only be a few moments. I swear I will not fail you. I will be back.”

  He started to peel her hands from their iron grip on his shirt.

  “Theo, I cannot—this coffin—I cannot—cannot—”

  Her hands free from his shirt, he clutched her face. “I will be back before daylight fades. I swear, Vee. I will be back.”

  “No, you can just carry me out, we can leave together right now.”

  “I cannot break the shackle—the chain—without tools, Vee.”

  “But the test—the test.”

  “What test?”

  “The test—I didn’t give up. This was a test and I didn’t give up—I never stopped trying to get out—never gave up on you—never. This was the test and I didn’t fail it. I did not fail. I had faith. So you cannot leave me now.”

  “I have to, Vee. Only for minutes—only minutes.”

  Her head jerked between his hands, her voice going shrill. “So you don’t want me to leave? You want to keep me down here? Forever in the coffin?”

  In that moment, Theo realized how tenuous her grasp on reality was. What her mind must have suffered during the past two days.

  Her breathing turned into gasps, hysteria setting in with tears she couldn’t afford starting to stream down her face. “Don’t leave me, Theo. It is death, death this is. They are all around me and talking to me and I am trying not to listen but they are there. Everywhere. Don’t leave me.”

  Forcing his voice calm, his hands tightened along her face, trying to pull her back into reality by sheer willpower. “I will be back as soon as I find tools and someone to help, Vee. I swear. Just hold on. Just a little longer, Vee. Can you do that? I will be back before you know it.”

  Her head dropped forward without a response, her breath slowing, her body slumping.

  “Vee, answer me. I will be back in minutes.”

  No response.

  “Violet, I have to leave. Just close your eyes. Close your eyes and imagine us in the garden at Glenhaven. Imagine the night air on your skin. The scent of budding boxwoods. The heat of my body next to yours. Imagine that. That night. And at the end I will be back. I swear it, I will be here.”