by C. J. Archer
"We've seen what can happen," Gillingham said with a nod at me. "The girl was kidnapped for just such a reason."
"I helped neither Frankenstein nor Jasper," I snapped. "Nor would I, under any circumstances."
"Do you think so?" Lady Harcourt's flinty gaze slipped to Lincoln. "What if they'd captured someone you love?"
I swallowed. There was no winning against that argument. Everyone in that room knew I would do anything to save Lincoln, even if it meant jeopardizing others.
His hand rested on my shoulder, but it wasn't very reassuring. "Leave Charlie out of this."
"We can't," Eastbrooke said. "It's as simple as that. Which brings me to my next suggestion."
"No." Lincoln growled the word with all the force of a blunt hammer.
"You must go somewhere safe, Charlotte. Somewhere that no one will look for you. I know just the place. Leave it to me."
Lincoln's fingers dug into my shoulder. I wasn't certain he knew how hard he was holding me. "She's not leaving."
"We're being extra vigilant," I said. "Once this killer is found—"
"There will be another," Gillingham said. "Then another and another. There will always be someone after you."
"He's right," Lady Harcourt said, in a tone that was a little too silky to be genuinely sympathetic. "Let us find you somewhere safer to live. London is too—"
"If Charlie leaves Lichfield then so do I," Lincoln growled. "We're engaged."
Dense silence filled the library. Seth and Gus exchanged glances, but otherwise, nobody moved. It was as if time had ceased, trapping us in that moment.
"What!" Eastbrooke's explosion shattered the eerie quiet.
"We are to be wed." Lincoln's voice was all calm authority, with a hint of steel that perhaps only I noticed.
"You bloody fool," Gillingham sneered.
Eastbrooke's hand curled into a fist on the chair arm. "We cannot allow it."
"Agreed."
"It's not up to you," Lincoln said.
"Think, man," Gillingham said. "Think what you're doing. You'll ruin yourself."
"Then I'll be a happily ruined man."
I touched Lincoln's hand at my shoulder and smiled up at him. His troubled gaze watched me intently, perhaps for signs that the tirades upset me. They did not. I didn't care what these people thought.
"You can't," Eastbrooke stated with an emphatic shake of his head. "We forbid it."
"You have no power to forbid me to do anything."
"You're the head of the ministry and we're the committee—"
"I'm the leader because of the prophecy, not because you chose me. The committee has no power over Charlie or me."
Eastbrooke hauled himself to his feet and took a step toward us. I felt Lincoln's fingers tense again. "I raised you," the general snarled. "I took you into my home and treated you like a son, and this is how you repay me! By going behind my back to court this…this…"
"Tutors raised me, and occasionally the housekeeper. Granted, you provided a roof over my head, for which I am grateful, although I hold no illusions that you did it out of the goodness of your heart. You never treated me like a son, General. Don't pretend otherwise."
Eastbrooke sat down heavily. He stared at Lincoln, his mouth ajar, his chest heaving with his deep breaths.
"This is outrageous," Gillingham said. "I knew we should have gotten rid of her as soon as the matter with Frankenstein ended. None of this would have happened if you'd all listened to me."
"That's enough, Gilly," Marchbank said. To us, he added, "Your mind is made up?"
"It is," Lincoln said.
"Then we must live with it, I suppose, although I agree that there are some concerns."
"She's safer here with me to watch over her."
"I'm not referring to her safety, but to the ongoing effectiveness of the ministry, and yourself, Fitzroy. Hear me out. Say she is kidnapped again and forced to raise a witch with the power to overrule her commands. Say the only way to send the witch back is to kill Charlie. Will you do it?"
"That is an unlikely event."
"But not impossible."
"There will be other ways to send the witch back, we just don't know what they are yet."
Gillingham snorted.
Marchbank turned to Lady Harcourt. "Julia, what do you think?"
She had gone very pale. She hadn't moved a muscle or uttered a syllable since our announcement. It must be quite difficult for her to accept our relationship, since she believed Lincoln still loved her until quite recently. Her gaze shifted from Lincoln to mine then back again. "Do you have consent from her father?"
"Not yet," Lincoln said.
"If he doesn't give it, you'll have to wait until she's of age.
Lincoln said nothing. It would seem he wasn't going to tell them about our plan to get Holloway's guardianship overturned.
"Ha!" Gillingham slapped his hand down on the head of his walking stick. "Good point, Julia. It's unlikely he'll give it."
"He's ill," Marchbank said. "So Governor Crease from the House of Correction tells me. Perhaps he'll die."
Gillingham used his walking stick to push himself up and approached us. I steeled myself for more insults. Lincoln tensed. "This will pass, you know," he said to Lincoln. "What you think is love is just a passing…urge." He looked pleased with himself for choosing that word. "You're still young and ruled by your cock, but—"
Lincoln let me go, stepped forward, and punched Gillingham in the nose. Gillingham fell to the ground, clutching his face and choking out the vilest obscenities. Nobody went to his aid.
"Really, Lincoln," Lady Harcourt chided. "Was that necessary?"
"Get up, Gilly," Eastbrooke said. "It can't be that bad. He pulled back."
"I'm bleeding!" Gillingham lurched to his feet, one hand covering his nose, the other pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket. A trickle of blood seeped through the cracks of his fingers.
"Seth, Gus, show his lordship to the door." Lincoln held out his hand to me and I took it. "This meeting is over."
* * *
"Bloody…minded…arses." Cook interjected every word with a severe chop of his knife through an onion. "Don't listen to them, Charlie. Their hearts be cold."
"I don't care what they think," I assured him. "As Lincoln pointed out to them, they have no power to send me away. They'll grow used to our marriage, in time."
"Wish I'd seen Fitzroy clock Gillingham."
"It was rather satisfying." I smoothed my hand over the book in front of me on the kitchen table. It was a hefty tome about supernatural creatures, mostly demons. I'd found nothing yet on imps captured in amber, but I hadn't given up.
Lincoln had gone out after the meeting, taking Seth and Gus with him. They were hoping to learn more about the murders from the police, neighbors and other witnesses. I'd decided to read in the kitchen for company. I probably should have tackled some housework but it was almost dinnertime, and I really wanted to know more about the imp.
I'd found the necklace in Lincoln's desk drawer. It wasn't stealing, since it was mine anyway. I didn't put it around my neck but set it beside the book.
"Any luck?" Cook asked with a nod at the book.
"None." I sighed and slammed it closed.
"It be a pretty piece."
"It is, albeit somewhat peculiar with the creature inside. You can hardly see it with the naked eye, but it's in there."
He wiped his hands on his apron and picked up the pendant. He held it to the lamplight and squinted. "You should wear it, for safekeeping."
"It'll be safe in Lincoln's drawer."
"Not the imp's safety, yours. If your mama wants you to wear it, you should listen to her."
"She also said it was unpredictable and mischievous. I shouldn't risk it."
"Wear it, but don't let it out." He shrugged. "I don't see no harm in that. Your mama wouldn't give it to you if it be dangerous."
"No-o, I suppose not." I took the necklace and placed it aro
und my neck, leaving the pendant exposed against my dress so that Lincoln could see it when he returned. I wasn't going to try and hide my actions from him. "He probably won't like it."
"If anyone can convince him it ain't a problem, it be you."
I smiled. "Thank you, Cook."
"Just don't tell him it were me who suggested it."
"I suppose there's no way of releasing it accidentally. I don't speak French, and I'm hardly about to say 'I release you' in a foreign language when I don't—Oh!"
The pendant glowed a bright orange and its warmth seeped through my dress above my breast. I fumbled with the clasp and threw the necklace on the table as if it were a spider that had fallen in my lap.
"What have I done?" I whispered.
"You weren't to know it be bilingual." Cook picked up his knife and raised it to strike at whatever came out of the amber.
A sudden blast of yellow light blinded me. When my vision returned, a small creature blinked back at me from the table. My rapidly beating heart calmed a little when the creature didn't move, and I was able to get a good look at it. It resembled a hairless cat, with long pointy ears and slanted green eyes that followed me as I edged around the table toward Cook.
"Do you understand me?" I said, speaking slowly.
It tilted its head to the side and the catlike mouth opened. A small mewling sound escaped as if it were trying to talk to me.
"I see why my mother called it a pet."
"It looks like a plucked chicken."
"I think it's rather adorable, with those eyes and the way the skin wrinkles above its nose like it's frowning at us."
"Touch it," Cook said.
"No! You touch it."
"I ain't going near that thing."
"Big baby." I shifted closer, smiled at the creature and made cooing sounds. I'd befriended alley cats when I lived on the streets. They were good at keeping the mice away. Perhaps the imp would respond to my soothing voice. "Come here, little one. Go back into your amber."
"It ain't moving."
I reached across the table, but it shifted back, out of my reach. Those large green eyes didn't leave mine the entire time. "Perhaps we should feed it." The alley cats had become more friendly if we spared them some of our food. "Pass me some beef."
"That be dinner!"
"This is an emergency, Cook. If Lincoln finds out I released it, he'll be furious with you."
"Me? Why me?"
"Because you didn't allow me any beef to coax it back into the amber."
He wiped his shiny brow and bald head with the back of his sleeve. "It can have some meat, but I ain't feeding it. It be your pet, you do it."
"Very well."
He chopped a slice of beef into small pieces and handed three to me. I put them down on the table and stood back. The imp crept on all fours to the beef, sniffed it, but didn't eat. It tilted its head and looked at me as if it were waiting for something.
"Go back into your amber," I urged. When nothing happened, I tried a different command. "Return, imp. I send you back."
It mewled again.
"It don't look magical," Cook said.
"What does a magical creature look like?"
"Don't know, but if I be a magical creature, I'd make meself prettier for a start, and bigger, with fur. Lots and lots of fur everywhere."
I kept my gaze strictly averted from his bald head and hairless face. Cook couldn't even grow eyebrows. "What shall we do?" Lincoln might walk in at any moment. I eyed the door and chewed my lip.
"Maybe it understands French for 'go back' better than English."
"That's all well and good, but I don't know the French for 'go back.' Do you?"
"I dozed off when me tutor were teaching them words in French lessons."
I gave him a withering glare. "This is not a time for jokes."
"I think you have to hold it and touch the amber too."
"Now you're just making things up." But I recalled my mother saying something similar. The suggestion was as good as any. "If it bites me, fetch the medical kit." I picked up the necklace and dangled the pendant where the creature could see it then caught the pendant in my hand. "Come here, little—"
The creature let out a squawk that seemed far too loud for its small size, then jumped off the table. It ran out of the kitchen before I'd registered that it had moved.
"It's escaping!" I lifted my skirts and sprinted after it.
"It can't get out," Cook said from directly behind me. "The doors and windows all be closed."
Thank goodness for that. I spotted the tip of its skinny pink tail as it turned a corner. It was heading toward the front of the house.
"Stop!" I shouted. "Get back here, you little rat!"
"Don't call it names or it might not want to come back."
Thank goodness the front door was closed, so we only had to corral it in one of the rooms and—
I skidded to a halt just as the creature leapt into the air. It was going to slam head first into the solid wooden door!
The imp stretched itself very thin. It resembled a stiletto dagger. Even the head was distorted. Then I saw why.
It squeezed through the keyhole and disappeared.
"That be its magic trick," Cook muttered.
"It's getting away!"
He flung open the door and pointed into the darkness ahead. "There! On the drive. It be normal shape again."
I ran down the steps and along the drive, flicking up clumps of damp gravel with every step. It wasn't until I was halfway to the gate that I realized Cook was no longer behind me. I turned to see him doubled over, holding his side.
"Go on," he puffed out between heavy breaths. "I'll catch it if it comes back."
Nearly three months ago I'd been known as fleet-foot Charlie, and for good reason, but my speed was not enough to close the gap between myself and the creature. It was as fast as any cat, and its magic trick, as Cook had called it, gave it an added advantage.
By the time I reached Lichfield's gates, I was in utter despair. The moonlight and street lamps weren't enough to reveal much in either direction, and the imp was nowhere to be seen. Once again I'd been responsible for releasing a supernatural creature with the potential to cause great harm.
The committee members would be gloating if they knew.
I stood on the pavement, hands on hips, and squinted into the darkness to left and right. It could be halfway to Clerkenwell by now.
Leaves in a nearby tree rustled. Thank goodness! "Come here, you little—"
The crack of a gunshot woke up the birds and deafened me.
And then everything became a blur.
Chapter 5
A blurry shadow slammed into my side, pushing me to the ground. I landed on my elbow and shoulder, the wind knocked out of me.
"Charlie!" Cook shouted. "Charlie, you hurt?" He appeared at the gate, his white apron making him look ghostly as he emerged out of the darkness. He sounded like a steam engine puffing up a hill.
"I don't think so," I gasped out.
As I said it, someone jumped out of the tree and ran off down the street. A gun dangled from his right hand. Cook made to go after him, but he could never have caught up to the nimble-footed man.
"Don't risk it," I told him as I got to my feet. "He's armed."
The imp sat on the ground beside me, panting steadily with its tongue out. Its green eyes watched my every move. It seemed to be waiting for something.
"It saved me," I murmured.
"That be its job," Cook said.
"Yes, but…it became something else, something large and strong that pushed me out of the way. How could it have done that in the moment between the shot being fired and the bullet hitting me?"
"Magic?"
"I suppose."
The imp suddenly lay down on its haunches and stretched its paws forward.
"Go after that man!" I ordered it. "Go!"
It lay its head on its paws and mewled.
"Maybe it onl
y works when your life be in danger. The danger be over, now."
"Good point. I also think it might be tired. My mother said that happens after it does its duty." I knelt down on the pavement and patted my lap.
The imp lifted its head and, with a small mewl, got to its feet and padded over to me. It walked directly into my hands and allowed me to pick it up and cuddle it to my chest.
"Isn't it adorable?"
"It still be ugly." Cook glanced off in the direction the attacker had gone. "We better return to the house."
The imp snuggled into me all the way back to the kitchen. "It's quite a sweet little thing, when it's not running away." I held it tightly in one hand and patted its wrinkled head with the other. "You saved my life, little imp. Thank you."
It made a sound in its chest like a strangled version of a cat's purr and tucked its head beneath my chin. But, oddly, it thrust out its paw and tapped the table.
"I think it wants to go back now." Cook handed me the necklace that we'd left behind.
With the imp in one hand and the necklace in the other, I said, "Return, imp. Go back inside."
Both imp and amber glowed and grew warmer, then the blinding light forced me to turn my head away. When I opened them, the creature was gone.
I held up the necklace to the lamp. Now that I knew what it looked like, I could just make out the imp's tiny body curled into a ball, the two ears pointing straight up. "It's asleep."
Cook dragged over the stool from the stove and sat down. "Bloody hell, that were…" He shook his head.
"Interesting?"
"Not the word I were going to say."
Lincoln entered the kitchen and eyed each of us in turn. I'd not heard the door to the courtyard open or close. Cook stood quickly and resumed chopping vegetables, his head studiously down.
I gave Lincoln what I hoped was a cheerful smile. "Welcome back. Where's Seth and Gus?"
He whipped off his gloves and unbuttoned his jacket. "Coach house. What happened?"
"What makes you think something happened?"
"You look guilty."
"I do not!"
He tilted his head to the side. "You're neither dead nor injured, so I'll assume there is no immediate danger."