by C. J. Archer
"The wounds are extensive," he said gently. "Come to my surgery first thing in the morning and I'll do my best to patch you up. I'll give you something for the pain now, and then you must rest tonight. I warn you, however, that the recovery will be long and arduous."
Tommy nodded and closed his eyes. The muscles in his jaw worked, as if he were bearing down against the pain. His face went even whiter as the doctor cleaned and dressed the wound.
"He will recover fully, won't he?" Sylvia asked, her face as pale as Tommy's. She had balled her hands into fists on the kitchen table, but now opened them and reached for Tommy's good hand, resting on the surface. Their fingers closed around one another.
Langley's nostrils flared as his gaze zeroed in on their linked hands. Bollard, standing behind Langley's wheelchair, touched his master's shoulder briefly before resuming his stiff-backed stance.
"It's too early to say," Dr. Gowan said. "But you must prepare yourselves for the worst."
"You mean he may lose some strength in his arm?" Her voice was soft, as if she didn't dare ask the question but needed to know the answer regardless.
"I mean it may never function again."
Tommy let go of Sylvia's hand and rubbed his bloodless lips. She began to reach for him, but pulled back and simply stared instead. I dragged my chair closer to her and circled my arm around her waist, but I wasn't sure if she even noticed.
The doctor finished bandaging Tommy and gave him something for the pain before sending him to bed. He wanted to inspect Quin next, and eyed the gashes on his chest, but Quin insisted Bollard be seen to. Most of his wounds were superficial and would heal as long as they didn't become infected.
"You must rest too," Langley told Bollard.
Bollard shook his head and signed something.
"I can push myself around," Langley said in that indomitable way of his.
Bollard huffed out a breath and he too left the kitchen.
The doctor finally inspected Quin. "You must come to my surgery tomorrow too. These are deep and require suturing."
Quin glanced at me, but said nothing. Whether he would still be in this realm in the morning remained to be seen.
The doctor left and Detective Inspector Weeks replaced him. He and his men had been investigating the ruins and the body. "I have some questions for you," he said with a twitch of his ratty nose.
Langley rubbed his forehead. "Get it over with, man. Everyone's tired."
Weeks cleared his throat and asked us where the dogs had come from and disappeared to after the attack. His forehead glistened with sweat by the time he finished, and he watched Langley anxiously, as if expecting him to erupt in anger without warning.
"They came from out of my woods, Inspector," Langley said. "There were perhaps half a dozen or so."
"I see. And now where are they? I don't see their bodies, sir."
"I threw them into the river," Quin said. "The scent of their blood might have attracted others."
Weeks switched his slick gaze to Quin. "And who are you?"
"Quintin St. Clair."
"He's a guest here," Sylvia cut in quickly. "A friend of Miss Moreau's from Melbourne. On the other side of the world," she clarified when he frowned at her.
"I know where it is," he said mildly. "Just a few more questions—"
"No." Langley wheeled himself to the door, showing Weeks out. "No more questions. The members of this household have endured enough for today."
"Right, sir. Of course. My apologies, Mr. Langley, Miss Langley." Weeks tucked his hat under his arm and bowed to Sylvia, before scurrying out of the kitchen.
Quin got up to inspect his wounds in the light coming through the window. Dusk had descended quickly and the kitchen was darkening. Langley wheeled himself out without another word to anyone.
Sylvia leaned closer to me. "Why haven't you spoken the counter-curse yet?" she whispered.
I nodded at Quin's back. "I thought it would be difficult to explain his sudden disappearance, particularly if he is scheduled to see Dr. Gowan in the morning."
"You're planning on letting him stay so the doctor can suture his wounds?"
"I…I admit I haven't thought it through yet. But I do think it best that we wait until the eyes of Harborough and the police force are no longer on Frakingham."
She pressed her lips together, flattening her smile. "I see. It has nothing to do with any feelings you two may have for one another?"
"Don't be absurd. We can't be together."
"That doesn't mean you don't want to be." She leaned closer and her smile vanished. "The real question is, can you be trusted in the same room for one more night?"
I was glad she didn't know about Quin coming from Purgatory or his need for the book. She wouldn't be so willing to let him stay longer in the house if she did, let alone in our room. "Of course. I'm no fool when it comes to gentlemen."
"What about otherworldly warriors?"
***
I did not let go of the book. I placed it on the stool beside the bath as I bathed, and in my lap when I ate. Quin and I hardly spoke all evening and he seemed to be avoiding my gaze. It was horrible but I had no idea what to say to him anymore. He seemed to accept that he would spend the night in this realm, although what he thought of that was a mystery. Perhaps he was in conflict, like me. I very much wanted him to stay, but I needed him to go.
We met Sylvia coming down the hall toward the bedroom. She'd been to see Tommy and taken him something to eat. Her presence was a welcome distraction from Quin.
"How is he?" I asked her.
"In pain, but otherwise showing remarkable spirits, considering."
"Considering he may never be able to use his arm again, you mean?"
She nodded and her lower lip trembled. "Oh, Cara. If he becomes a cripple, what shall he do? Where will he go?" She clasped my hand in both of hers. "He won't be able to work, and if he can't work…he'll wind up in the poor house."
"Sylvia, calm down. Jack wouldn't allow that. Neither would your uncle. Whatever happens, Tommy will be well taken care of."
She sighed, not quite appeased. "He'll hate being a charity case. He'll want to work."
"We'll have to find something else for him to do."
"Like what?" She sighed again and I had no answers for her either. She looked to Quin as he opened the door. "What happened to men who lost the use of their limbs in your day?"
He lifted his gaze to hers. "You don't want to know."
"It was a much harsher time," I said before she could become upset.
We prepared for bed, Quin on one side of the screen and us on the other. There would be no Tommy to protect us tonight, but nobody seemed to think it necessary.
"Have you looked through it?" Sylvia asked, nodding at the book that I'd set down on the bed.
"Not yet."
She pulled it to her and carefully opened it as if it were made from eggshells. "It smells old."
"It is old. Look." I pointed to the lines of text on the first page. "I think this means it was written by or for Gilbert de Mordaunt. According to Jacob's copy of Debrett's, Gilbert came over with William the Conqueror and earned himself lands and accolades."
"His knowledge of the supernatural must have been extensive for him to have compiled this book."
"I wonder how he gathered all this information in a time when there were few written documents."
"Good lord." She studied the pages with their beautiful illuminated images. The gold leaf gleamed in the lamplight and the colors were as bright as if they'd been mixed recently. "It's remarkable."
I was just as entranced. A great deal of effort had been spent on it in a time when texts were written by scholar-monks and few people could even read.
"Here's your spell," she said, tapping a page. "Thank God." She eyed me, as if expecting me to announce I would read it then and there.
On the other side of the screen, Quin hissed out a breath.
"Are you all right?" she asked him.
"Aye."
"Is it the scratches?"
He hesitated before answering, "Aye."
"Dr. Gowan will fix you up tomorrow," she said. "If you're still here then." She gave me a sympathetic smile as she settled under the covers. "Don't stay up too late."
I turned back to the book and continued to look through the spells and other information contained within its pages as she fell asleep. The writing was difficult to understand with its odd spellings and intricate lettering, but I managed to decipher most of it. I found the spell Quin needed to get out of Purgatory. I read through the words at the top of the page, and my blood ran cold.
Speeke these words at ye peril,
Or Almighteye wrathe will conquer the forbidden soulle.
Surely anyone banished to Purgatory was a forbidden soul. I was already quite certain that Quin didn't have permission to be searching for the book to achieve his own ends, but now I was equally worried that his plan to leave that realm would result in more problems for him.
I read on, and learned more about the other realms and the links between them. The book contained information on demons and spirits that I already knew, plus some facts that were new to me. I was thoroughly absorbed in it, so that I didn't notice Quin until he appeared beside the bed with the blanket wrapped around his waist. His wounds looked angry and sore.
I shut the book and clasped it against my chest. His eyes shuttered and his shoulders slumped a little.
"I won't take it," he said simply.
I eyed him closely as he sat on the end of the bed.
He sighed. "Cara, I've never done this before. Never cured anyone of a supernatural illness. But I fear I'll disappear from this realm as soon as you speak the counter-curse."
I bit my lip. "We don't know that for sure. You may have a choice in the matter."
"I doubt it," he said wryly. "Choices are not easily granted in my realm."
"Then we should say our goodbyes first. But not tonight. I'm…I'm not ready. Tomorrow."
He rubbed a hand covered in scratches over his jaw. "I'm telling you this now so that you understand the need for me to hold the book while one of us speaks your counter-curse."
"I don't think that's wise."
He pressed his lips together as if forcibly stopping himself from shouting or swearing. "Why not?"
"Think about what you're doing. What you want is dangerous. The book itself warns of an almighty wrath if that spell is used by…by the wrong person."
"We don't know that for certain, or what that wrath will entail." He did not ask to see the warning, which meant he already knew about it.
"Quin, you're in Purgatory. You cannot get out without disrupting the natural order of things. Of course there will be consequences."
"Perhaps."
"And you're still willing to try?"
He splayed his fingers on the bedcover, as if stretching out the tension and forcing himself to remain calm when all he felt was anger. "Cara, I need the book. I'm tired of being a warrior and they will not let me stop."
My heart leapt at this new information. It was just one more piece of the puzzle. "Why not? Why can't you earn your way out?"
"My situation is unique. It's not like any other. The rules are different for me."
"Tell me, Quin. Just tell me why you're in Purgatory and I will consider whether to give you the book."
He shook his head. "I can't. You'll hate me. Fear me. I already hate myself." His voice was so quiet that I had to strain to hear the last part. It chilled me to hear that he considered his actions so despicable, shameful, that he could not speak of them after hundreds of years.
I adjusted my grip on the book. "I'm scared that if you do this, something worse will happen to you. At least this way, you can come and go through the portal. You can come to me."
He shook his head sadly. "Only when there is real need, like there was today. They won't let me see you again unless the situation is dire. Please, Cara, let me hold the book."
I shook my head and edged back from him, even though he made no move to lunge.
"Please don't fear me, Cara." The raw pain in his voice clawed at my already aching heart. The plea in his eyes made it break. "I will always protect you. You hold all the power over me. Do you understand? I cannot harm you."
It was too much. I felt like I was falling apart. My tears spilled down my cheeks and onto my hands, which were crossed over the book.
He shifted toward me, but I inched back again, clutching the book to my chest. My wariness made him wince.
"I don't fear you, Quin, but I will not give you the book. Please don't ask again."
He lowered his head. His damaged chest rose and fell with his labored breathing. "Very well," he muttered. "You've made yourself clear. I apologize for the position I put you in."
It was my turn to wince. I didn't want regret and apologies. I wanted…I wanted him.
I watched him rise and walk away from my bed. I climbed under the covers with the book and listened to him moving about on the other side of the screen. He finally settled around the time my tears dried up. He was silent, perhaps asleep.
I lay awake all night.
***
Dr. Gowan tended to Quin's chest wounds before taking Tommy through to the room he used for surgery. We were told to return in a few hours.
"A few hours!" Sylvia clicked her tongue as she watched the doctor's assistant wheel a very pale Tommy through a door. Seeing him so weak and in pain worried me. His blood loss had been substantial and the risk of infection from such deep wounds was high. I was surprised Sylvia hadn't shown the same concerns this morning. She seemed very brusque and matter-of-fact about the whole thing. "What are we supposed to do in the mean time?"
"Walk," I said. "A leisurely one." Quin may seem as robust as usual with most of his cuts and bruises hidden beneath his clothes, but I didn't want to exert him too much. While he was in this realm, he was subject to infection too.
When he returned to Purgatory, I suspected the physical injuries he'd incurred here would fade away. It was now only a matter of when he returned. I still wasn't ready to send him off, and he didn't seem eager to go.
We hadn't spoken to one another all morning, but Sylvia didn't seem to notice. She'd not stopped prattling since breakfast, her topics far-reaching and dull. The one topic she hadn't discussed was Tommy's surgery. Its omission was like a beacon in the dark. At least to me.
"Yes, a walk," she said now with a sunny smile. "A marvelous idea. Tommy is in good hands, and when we return, he'll be ready to come home." She gave another click of her tongue. "Dr. Gowan should have tended to him up at Frakingham like I'd wanted. People like us ought to get home visits."
"This was too complicated to do at home. Dr. Gowan needed his instruments." I touched her elbow and steered her out to the street. "You know all this, Syl. We explained it to you earlier."
She sniffed. "Yes. Well." With her chin and chest thrust forward, she headed off down the hill, away from Dr. Gowan's surgery, into the heart of the village.
"She's just a little worried about Tommy," I said to Quin.
"I understand."
"She doesn't know how to react outwardly so she's resorting to aloofness and nonchalance."
"I know, Cara. I've observed how they are together."
I glanced at him, and took proper stock of his appearance for the first time that day. He looked much better than the day before. If he were in pain, it didn't show on his face. The cut on his lip was swollen, but the bruises didn't appear as dark now, nor did he move gingerly in deference to other cuts on his body. He looked as if he could enter the boxing ring and fight.
I clutched the sack that held the book in it against my side. I'd decided to keep it on me at all times, even though I was with Quin. It was safe from him while it was with me. If he were going to wrestle it off me, he would have done so already. There were no guarantees that he wouldn't take it if I set it down, however.
We wa
ndered along the High Street and peered into the shop windows at the displays. Sylvia didn't want to go inside, despite me asking her whenever we passed a shop that would usually catch her interest. Not even the new fabrics in the draper's could tempt her, nor the various shopkeepers who followed her up the street, touting the wonders of their latest product.
She smiled politely at them, and at other passersby, but said very little beyond the required pleasantries. I was about to suggest we detour to the public gardens some streets away when I spotted a spirit at the front of the butcher's shop. He appeared to be a lad of about sixteen and his method of death was unclear, although his face had a gray pallor to it that suggested some kind of illness. He had large protruding front teeth and darting eyes that peered through the butcher's window.
"Quin, would you mind if I had a quiet word with Sylvia for a moment."
"Of course not."
He lingered at the draper's while I took Sylvia's hand and dragged her to the butcher's, two shops down. It was far enough that Quin couldn't hear us, but close enough that I felt no onset of the supernatural fever.
"What is it?" she asked. "Has Quin said or done something?" She gasped. "He hasn't kissed you, has he?"
"It's not you I wish to speak to." I thought it best not to answer her question directly, since I would have to lie. "There's a spirit here and I need to ask him a question."
"Now?"
The ghost gave a start. "You can see me?" His nose twitched and eyes blinked, a nervous habit he'd not shaken off even in death. With the large teeth, he resembled a rabbit.
"I'm a medium," I told him.
Sylvia glanced up and down the street then sidled closer to me. "Cara, I may be growing used to you stopping and speaking to every ghost you come across, but do we have to do this out here in public?"
"Yes, we do. Pretend I'm talking to you."
"I'm no good at pretending."
"Just nod and smile occasionally as if I've said something interesting." To the spirit, I said, "Would you mind helping me with something? And perhaps I can help you in return."
"I could try, miss, but don't know what help I'd be to the living. Can't do much." He swiped his hand through Sylvia to show me. It was fortunate that she had no idea or she would have been outraged at the indignity.