Deception

by A. S. Fenichel

  Lillian wiped a tear from her cheek. “She really was remarkable.”

  Fletcher sat up and straightened his shoulders. “What is it I can do for you today, Miss Dellacourt? Have you come to settle your debt?”

  “I have come to ask a favor, Mr. Fletcher.”

  He laughed. “You already owe me. I hardly think you are in a position to ask for favors.”

  She shrugged. “Nonetheless, I have a favor to ask.”

  Fletcher sighed dramatically. “I’m helpless to stop you.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she stood up. “We are going to try to close the gate where some of the demons are entering our world. To be successful we need more men, and The Company does not have very many in the area.”

  “You want me to risk my men to help The Company?”

  Brice stood up and leaned over Fletcher. “Demons will destroy everything. That includes your little venture. How can you sit back and do nothing?”

  Dorian could see the scene deteriorating. If Brice hit Fletcher, they will have come for nothing. Lillian had a better chance with her gentle coaxing than brute force ever would. “Brice, sit down or step outside.”

  Fletcher brushed a piece of non-existent lint from his trousers. “I’m a business man. I do not do things out of the kindness of my heart.”

  Lillian’s smile knotted up Dorian’s stomach, and he wondered if she knew while under the spell of her lips, he’d give her anything. His heart drummed faster. Did she have the same effect on Fletcher?

  “I understand you are a gambling man, Mr. Fletcher.”

  “I enjoy a good game.” He leaned forward and his eyes narrowed on Lillian.

  “Good. Then may I suggest a wager?”

  “What did you have in mind, Miss Dellacourt?”

  “I gather you fancy yourself a good billiards player?”

  “I am the best at the table.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “If I win, you help us close the gate.”

  “And if I win?”

  “What do you want?”

  Dorian took a step forward despite the fact that he told himself not to react to the leer on Fletcher’s face.

  Fletcher’s grinned and spread his legs out before him. “I want ten thousand pounds.”

  “Done.” Dorian gritted his teeth, but if it kept them alive, it was a small price to pay.

  “One more thing.”

  “More than ten thousand pounds, Fletch? Are you really that greedy?”

  Fletcher stood up and took a quick step forward. His fists rested on his hips. “I really am.” He turned to Lillian. His voice softened. “However, what I want is not of a monetary nature.”

  Lillian lips twitched. She was amused. Dorian wanted to pulverize the man, and she was laughing.

  “I want an invitation to your wedding.”

  “Done.” Lillian grinned and put her hand out for shaking.

  They shook. “Do you want to play now, or shall we schedule an appointment?”

  “Now will be fine. We are on a rather tight timetable.”

  “As you wish, my lady. Follow me.”

  They strode through the gaming hall to a back room. Considering it was only mid-afternoon, there was a good crowd in the club. Two women mixed with the fifty or more men gambling, drinking, and smoking. Other than the women, it was no different from any gentleman’s club Dorian had frequented. Though here, the house was the only one making any money. Still, it was a lot nicer than any gaming hell he’d seen.

  The soft cloth table held three balls, two white and a red. One white ball had a black dot.

  “We play with cues here. The mace is so old-fashioned. It is a sixteen-point game, best of three. Shall we string to see who will start?”

  Lillian took up a cue stick and nodded.

  Lillian and Fletcher each took up a white ball and placed it in front of them. Simultaneously hitting the cue balls up the table, the balls hit the cushion and rolled back into baulk, the first quarter length of the table. Fletcher’s ball rolled closest, almost touching the baulk cushion.

  He grinned and picked up the white ball with the dot. Then he bowed. “The lady may go first.”

  Lillian placed the red ball on the spot at the top of the table then walked back to the opposite side. She leaned over her cue at an angle and concentrated on the ball.

  Every man in the room’s focus was entirely on her, and Dorian’s focus on every man in the room. His jaw ticked. It would be a miracle if they got out of there without him killing someone.

  The MacGregor brothers walked through the wide arch and watched from the back wall.

  She shot. The sharp clack of cue on ball, then ball on ball, pierced the air.

  The red ball rolled into baulk, but her cue moved in tight to the topside cushion. It was a good start.

  “Well done,” Fletcher said.

  She walked to the side of the table.

  Fletcher lined up his cue and made a shot that only succeeded in bouncing the red ball back, giving Lillian little chance at a score.

  Dorian could see this was a match where someone’s mistake would force the first score.

  As they played, more people wandered into the back room until no gaming went on in the rest of the club and betting was rampant over who might win the next shot, the game, or the entire match.

  They bet on whether the next shot would be a cannon or a winning hazard. Lillian struck her cue into Fletcher’s and hit the red ball for the first two points of the match.

  Fletcher answered by sinking her cue in a pocket to tie it up.

  Lillian’s next shot was magnificent. She potted the red, striking it first, and the other cue fell as well. It was a ten point shot that Dorian had heard of but never seen before. Unfortunately, it was the last shot she made in the first game, and Fletcher won.

  Dorian considered options to help them survive the ritual closing of the gate without the help of Fletcher and his gang of ruffians.

  The entire room had filled with spectators. The volume reached a crescendo with bets and yells to encourage one player or the other. But when a player leaned in to their shot, silence fell over the room.

  She tied the second game at fourteen, and the shot was to Fletcher. It was a tough shot. He leaned down, his face a mask of concentration. Struck. His cue jumped over the red object ball.

  Dugan MacGregor called out, “Foul. Miss Dellacourt wins.”

  The enthusiastic call drew a frown from his boss.

  Dugan shrugged and winked at Lillian.

  Dorian shouldn’t have been surprised she’d won over the crowd with little effort. His pride swelled inside, but he kept his emotions in check.

  They began the third and final game. Lillian made several excellent cannons and two winning hazards. Fletcher held his own, but she beat him soundly.

  After her final shot, she rounded the table and held her hand out.

  The crowd settled bets in a frenzy of excitement over a woman besting the great Fletcher at billiards in his own club.

  Fletcher stared at her hand.

  The crowd stilled.

  Lillian raised an eyebrow.

  With a wicked little grin, Fletcher took her hand and shook it. “Send me a note with the time and location. I always settle my debts, Miss Dellacourt.”

  She kissed his cheek. “You may call me Lillian, Fletch. Thank you for the match. I have not had so much fun in a long time.”

  He leaned down and kissed her hand. “Nor I.”

  Dorian’s normal jealousy did not stir. Instead, pride welled in his chest as he waded through the crowd to collect his fiancée. “We should go, Lilly.”

  They said good night and called for their carriage.

  It was late by the time the carriage door closed.

  Brice laughed. “You have greatly improved, Lillian. I assume you can beat Reece as well.”

  “I’m afraid my billiards instructor began refusing to play with me a long time ago. He did not enjoy losing. Fletcher is an out
standing player. He could have won had he not fouled the second game. It makes me wonder if he did it on purpose.”

  “Would he do that?” Brice asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose we will never know.”

  Dorian stretched his legs to where the carriage confines allowed. “It makes little difference. We got what we wanted, and I am very proud of you.”

  * * * *

  Dorian expected he and Lillian would go to Holyrood with the witch, but Brice insisted on coming along. At dawn, they picked up Abigail Higginbotham at her home and rode up to Holyrood. Without the pall of night, the ruined church didn’t have the same element of fear. It was nothing more than a building that had fallen into disrepair.

  Dorian handed Lillian down from the carriage.

  Brice assisted the witch who hurried to work.

  She looked around, even checked the position of the sun. “Where is the doorway down you told me about?”

  Lillian pulled the strings of her skirt, tucked the heavy material in, and armed herself with a short sword. “Over here.”

  Dorian hoped the demons wouldn’t be there in the early morning, but he drew his sword as well.

  Brice’s limp was more exaggerated than usual walking from the church to the cemetery, and the rain had likely irritated his condition. He climbed over a fallen stone from the old church and winced. After he’d been injured in a long ago battle, he’d become an instructor.

  Abigail stopped and turned toward Brice. Looking him up and down, she crouched to touch his leg. It was not the most ladylike gesture, but they were alone at Holyrood.

  Brice looked down at where the witch knelt before him. “It is an old injury, Mrs. Higginbotham. There is nothing you can do.”

  “The age of your wound is of no relevance, Mr. Lambert.” She pulled something out of her bag and pressed it to his leg. A green light glowed from under her palm. She mumbled a few words. The light disappeared, and she removed her hand, returning the item to her bag.

  Brice’s eyes were wide as saucers. He reached down and helped her to her feet before stretching the leg, which he struggled to put weight on for years. “What did you do?”

  “Come and see me in a few days and I will explain it to you.”

  Brice bowed. “I look forward to it.”

  Remarkably, the witch blushed.

  Dorian shook his head. His brother rarely showed interest in anyone, but there was no mistaking the look on his face. He was smitten with Abigail. She was a few years older than a blushing youth, but life is short, and in their line of work, could be considerably shorter. He would support whatever Brice chose.

  In the meantime, they had work to do. Dorian turned and followed his fiancée to the trap door leading into the cavern.

  Abigail and Brice joined them at the bottom of the stairs.

  Abigail turned and took in the entire sight. “This is not good. They plan to open a gate here.”

  “Why here when the original gate is so close?” Lillian asked what he was thinking.

  “This is special. Something powerful carved these. Nothing in this world created this space. Not even the demons could have done this from here. This was done through magic. Gates hold power. The fact that this is holy ground will add to the power. The master might even use the energy from the other gate to help open this one. He will not be happy when you attempt to close it. My guess is he will not want you anywhere near the original gate before the waning moon.”

  “How would he transfer the energy?” Brice asked.

  “I do not know exactly. It would take a massive ceremony. It could explain the influx of demons in Edinburgh. He needs many worshipers to complete something this terrible. This gate will not be concealed like the others. They mean to announce their presence to the world and leave a gaping hole a mile from Edinburgh castle. A hole where demons can come and go at will.”

  “How do we stop them?” Dorian’s anger returned. This was where his mother had died. The stains on the floor were her blood—his blood. Someone had to pay.

  Lillian stepped to his side. She touched his shoulder.

  His heart slowed and the ringing in his ears eased. She knew him, knew he was near the end of his restraint.

  “I can ward the room, but it will only hold for a short time. I will have to contact my coven. I need help to destroy something this big. I need more witches.”

  “I didn’t know you belonged to a coven,” Lillian said.

  “I am not an active participant, but I believe they will come when I tell them what is happening here.” She paled.

  Brice rushed over to give her his arm, but she held up a hand, keeping him back.

  “You should all back up. This may shake a few things loose.” Abigail raised her hands in the air and spoke of water, earth, air, and fire. She called to the elements for strength and the power to ward the evil forged in their earth.

  The air in the room pulled away. Dorian gasped for breath. Would they suffocate? Then the air rushed back in with gale-force, whipping around the circular room. He took hold of Lillian’s hand, and all three of them pressed themselves against the wall near the steps.

  Abigail’s hair flew up and out of its neat binding, forming a crown around her head. Water ran down the walls and fire danced in her hands. The earth shook above and below them.

  Pebbles and dust fell from the ceiling and water rose at their feet. The walls trembled, and he wanted to get them out of there.

  When the witch’s words stopped, so did the elemental phenomenon. She wobbled and Brice ran forward to steady her. He helped her kneel at the center of the carved goat’s head. She pressed her flaming hands on the stone.

  The acrid smell of sulfur assaulted them.

  Abigail collapsed into Brice’s arms.

  He lifted her and moved away from the center toward the steps.

  Dorian said, “Take her out of here. She likely needs some fresh air.”

  Lillian stepped to the center and Dorian followed. A six-pointed star, the seal of Solomon, charred the floor. The brand still smoldered.

  “I suppose this means whatever she did worked.” Lillian pointed with her sword at the new symbol.

  “Let’s hope so.” He took her hand, and they rushed up the steps and out of the hellish place.

  Abigail sat on a fallen bit of stone wall while Brice paced nervously. “I’m fine, Mr. Lambert. Really. I just need a few minutes to regain my energy. A ward of this kind takes a lot out of me.”

  No demons had come to stop them, and the area was clear for as far as Dorian could see. “Do you think it will hold?”

  Abigail took a deep breath. Her cheeks were pinking up again. “I believe it will as long as you manage to close the other gate. I will confer with the high witch of my coven, but I believe they need an earthly power to create the kind of gate they were attempting.”

  Fear and rage bubbled up again within Dorian. “The gate Shafton opened is earthly? How can a demon gate be earthly?”

  Abigail got to her feet, and with Brice’s help, walked toward the carriage a quarter-mile away. “All things can become of this earth over time, my lord. That gate has been here for many years, and remember, it was opened by a man, not a demon.”

  Lillian swung up into the carriage. “So that is why all of this is happening here and not in London or someplace else? This was the perfect situation. A powerful, earthly gate, opened by man and near holy ground.”

  Brice handed Abigail up. “That is what I think.”

  The brothers jumped in, and the carriage headed back to town. Dorian’s gut tightened. He hated waiting another day to seal the gate, but the witch had said their best bet was the morning before the new moon. “We have to get that gate closed.”

  Abigail frowned.

  “What is it?” Brice asked.

  “This is only one place. I fear what more they have accomplished while men and women idled.”

  Lillian took her hand. “One problem at a time, my friend.
We will stop them here and now. Whatever evil they have brought to this world, we will take action on.”

  “Of course you are right. It will be a big blow to the master to lose this battle. The hunters have thwarted him twice and you injured him. He will need a victory. When he does not get one, it will demoralize him further.”

  “He will not get one.” Dorian put more ferocity to the words than he’d intended.

  Chapter 15

  Lillian caught sight of Tom at the edge of what was about to become a battleground, a rocky expanse between the road and the cave. She hoped he had enough sense to keep himself out of harm’s way, but there was nothing she could do about it now. The sun crested the horizon, and they were steps from the cave.

  Dorian carried a bucket of goat’s blood, which was not as strange as the group assembled for the mission to close the gate. Shafton had opened it sixteen years earlier, but he’d remained at the castle. Brice, Tybee, and Drake made the journey with Dorian and Lillian. Fletcher brought thirty armed men to guard the cave and keep any demons from getting inside while the four hunters worked the ritual.

  They didn’t have to wait long to find out if the demons would attack. It was as if they knew the hunters were coming. As they approached the cave, a hundred or more trebox and malleus swarmed the rocky terrain outside the cave.

  Seeing so many demons walking the earth in daylight did not bode well. Her heart sank. Somehow, that they kept to the dark had always made her feel separate from them. The sun warmed the dewy ground and had no ill effect on the speed or ferocity of the demons.

  Fletcher yelled, “Go. Do what you must. We will hold them.”

  Lillian said a short prayer that Fletcher’s men were not slaughtered. The MacGregors wielded broad swords with two-handed precision. Hope pulsed in her chest.

  Jamie lopped of the leg of a Malleus while Dugan thrust through a trebox’s gut.

  She took a breath, turned her back on the battle, and ran toward the cave.