Whyborne and Griffin, Books 1-3

by Jordan L. Hawk

  “Glad you could make it, Dr. Whyborne,” Mr. Kerr said when I approached.

  “Is Dr. Putnam not with you?” his wife asked.

  “Uh, no. She had another engagement,” I said apologetically. In truth, I hadn’t the courage to ask her to accompany me. After the dinner, she likely would have responded with murder, either Griffin’s or mine. Possibly both.

  “What shall we do first?” Griffin asked, rubbing his hands together delightedly. I realized with a bit of a shock that he actually enjoyed this sort of thing. “A turn about on the carousel?”

  “Oh, may we?” Ruth asked wistfully.

  “It sounds like fun.” Griffin looked at the rest of us.

  “Not for me,” his mother said. “I’ll stay here and watch, though.”

  Manners dictated I offer to keep her company. “I shall remain also.”

  Griffin seemed disappointed, but neither his father nor Ruth noticed, and in a moment, the three of them departed to stand in line for their turn on the carousel. I folded my hands behind my back and hoped Mrs. Kerr didn’t wish for conversation.

  The hope proved short lived. “Dr. Whyborne,” she said, almost as soon as the others were gone, “I hope you don’t think I’m a meddling old hen, but, well, sometimes it takes a woman to see things a woman’s way, you know.”

  “Er, yes?” I asked, although I had no idea what she could possibly mean.

  She took my response for encouragement, though. “How old is Miss Putnam?”

  “Dr. Putnam,” I corrected automatically. Thank goodness I’d left Christine out of this, or my body would be washing up with the tide. Why the devil did the woman want to know such a thing, anyway? “I’m not sure, actually. A year or two older than me, I believe.”

  I knew Christine had started her university career at a slightly later age than most men did, and I had begun early. Both of us had completed our coursework at our respective alma maters rather more quickly than the norm, however, perhaps due to the fact neither of us had ever socialized, vacationed, or even returned home during our years of study.

  “You men don’t have to think of such things, but she’s far past the age most girls marry,” Mrs. Kerr said matter-of-factly. “If you have marriage with her in mind, you’d better not dawdle about too much longer, or else most of her child-bearing years will be done and over.”

  Oh dear lord! I stared fixedly at the carousel, barely seeing the swirl of color and riders. “Y-yes,” I managed.

  “And if you don’t, you have to let the poor woman know, so she can find a man who’ll do right by her before it’s too late.”

  “I, er—”

  “Dr. Whyborne? Is that you?”

  I turned hurriedly to the speaker, grateful for any rescue. Maggie Parkhurst and a group of young women had come up behind me. Rather than her usual sober suit, she wore a summer-weight dress and a straw hat with a ribbon. Her hair seemed different as well, although I wasn’t certain how, precisely.

  “Miss Parkhurst! Hello!” I probably sounded like a fool, but I was ready to enter into any conversation, as long as it didn’t involve marriage. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?”

  Never mind. I most certainly sounded like a fool.

  “Oh, yes, very lovely. Do you come here often? That is, I mean, I’ve never seen you here before,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. The ladies behind her all stared at me in fascination, and I began to wonder what on earth she might have said about me.

  Griffin returned with his father and Ruth. His hair was mussed from the ride, and his eyes sparkled. “Miss Parkhurst! A pleasure as always.”

  He made introductions, and I soon gathered the other ladies boarded in the same house as Miss Parkhurst, or were friends with women who did. Within minutes, they chatted delightedly with Ruth.

  “Oh! The kinetoscope!” one of them exclaimed; she seemed rather excitable. “You must see it, Ruth, you really must!”

  “Yes, come with us,” Miss Parkhurst encouraged.

  Ruth glanced hopefully at her uncle. “Oh, may I?”

  “I suppose,” was as far as he got, before they all hastened away, Ruth in their midst.

  If Ruth could escape, I decided I could as well. “Excuse me,” I said, “I need a bit of air.”

  The crowd seemed to press in on me from every side, but for once my height served to my advantage. I spotted a place on the end of the pier that was very nearly deserted. I hastened to it, and stood staring out over the rolling waves, feeling as though some constriction had eased from around my lungs.

  What was wrong with me? Even a cursory glance at the revelers behind me showed other people had no trouble with boisterous crowds, and some even relished them. And although I might not have minded viewing the kinetoscope, the promise of winning cheap prizes by shooting clay pigeons or tossing a ring onto a milk jug held no appeal for me. I’d rather be curled up in a chair at home, reading a book or petting Saul.

  Griffin clearly enjoyed it, however. Had he wanted to come here before, but never mentioned it because he knew I would hate it? I’d never meant to hold him back from anything, no matter how trivial, and it hurt to think I had.

  With a sigh, I turned my attention back to the waves. Under ordinary circumstances the view would have been peaceful, but even that was impossible here. Crudely built bathing houses lined the strand. Children buried each other in the sand while their parents lounged about on blankets, eating sausages and ice cream. Meanwhile, men and women in revealing bathing costumes sported in the waves, laughing and splashing one another in a shocking display of informality.

  A group of young men, perhaps students from Widdershins University, charged down the narrow beach and into the water. They were all well-formed, their striped mohair bathing suits showing off their figures to excellent advantage. One in particular caught my eye; he cut through the waves like a seal, hair golden in the sun when he surfaced, graceful and laughing.

  “Ice cream?” Griffin asked.

  I started, a bit guiltily. He stood beside me, proffering a small cup of vanilla ice cream and giving me knowing look.

  “Yes, thank you.” I took it from him, trying to pretend as if my face wasn’t on fire.

  Griffin leaned casually against the railing beside me, sampling his own ice cream. “Nice view,” he said, glancing out at the ocean.

  “I wasn’t…that is, I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “Where are your parents?” I asked, seizing on the first change of topic which came to mind.

  “Listening to the brass band, I believe.” He gave a little shrug. “I wanted to spend time with you. Like this. Without getting chased by dogs, or attacked by cultists.”

  “The day is still young.”

  “Point taken.” He glanced at me. “I must say, I didn’t expect you to wear a full suit to the shore.”

  I brushed self-consciously at my coat. “It’s what I always wear.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean it as a criticism.” He turned his gaze back to the ocean. “Although I wouldn’t mind seeing you in one of those bathing costumes.”

  “Good heavens! I’d look a complete fool.” Griffin would no doubt cut a fine figure so attired, but I was all angles and bone.

  “I disagree,” he said. “Will you have your picture taken with me?”

  “What?” I asked, surprised by the non sequitur.

  Griffin inclined his head to where a man with a camera had set up shop at the far end of the pier. “He’s taking portraits, and the price is reasonable. I thought we might have a memento.”

  “What about your family?”

  He shrugged. “Once we’re back with them, I’ll suggest we have a group portrait done, if they wish. But I’d like something with just the two of us.”

  “Oh.” I’d had my picture taken a few times: family portraits for the most part. It hadn’t occurred to me Griffin would want such a thing. “Yes. Let’s.”

  His happy smile made my heart ache. “Wonderful.” />
  The photographer was more than willing to take our picture: I in my suit, my hands folded in front of me, and Griffin looking far more carefree in his striped shirt and straw hat, leaning casually against the pier railing so one arm was behind me. Even though I wouldn’t have chosen such an outing, the knowledge Griffin wanted to share it with me left a smile on my face, and I hoped the camera had captured it.

  “There,” Griffin said when we’d finished. “Not so bad, was it?”

  “No, of course not.” I cast him a fond glance, then recalled his family might come searching for him at any moment. I directed my gaze back to the water.

  At first I thought this section of the ocean clear of bathers, before glimpsing a pale shape moving beneath the waves. I waited for the swimmer to surface for air, but he failed to do so, instead continuing his underwater course north, toward the mouth of the Cranch.

  I must be mistaken. Perhaps the shape was a stray dolphin or some other sort of sea life. No human could remain submerged for so long.

  For the briefest of instants, its back broke the water, revealing sleek skin, fins and an unmistakable human-like form.

  “Did you see that?” I exclaimed, grasping Griffin’s arm and pointing.

  Griffin shaded his eyes against the sun sparkling from the sea. “See what?”

  “The creature…” But when I looked again, the shape was gone.

  ~ * ~

  Griffin returned around four o’clock. “I mean to go up to Stormhaven tonight,” he said, glancing at the clock. “But I have a few hours to pass beforehand. Oh, that reminds me, I’ll need to borrow your binoculars.”

  “Of course,” I said. I sat in our study, pouring over the Arcanorum for any clue which might help us.

  He dropped onto the couch beside me. The sun had conjured up more freckles on his nose and cheekbones, and the blue stripes on his shirt lightened his eyes. “Did you enjoy the pier?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Perhaps it would be better with just the two of us,” he said. “Although I dare say you enjoyed one part of it.”

  I set the book aside, wondering what he was about. “The ice cream?”

  Griffin leaned in. The scent of his cologne, mingled with the salty tang of sweat, rose from his skin. “The bathers. One in particular, I think.”

  I swallowed against a sudden constriction in my throat. Heat rose up my neck, and I said, “I-I didn’t mean to linger.”

  “I’m not upset.” Griffin’s fingers brushed my shoulder, and his breath toyed with the small hairs around my ear. “He was very handsome. Perhaps we shall return some time so we can watch together.”

  To my mortification, my body roused at the idea. “Th-that would be indecent.”

  “I’m an indecent fellow,” he murmured in my ear, even as his hand stole down to cup me through my trousers. “And you like it.”

  I turned my face to accept his kiss. He pressed me back against the couch, moving to straddle my lap, his erection hard and straining against mine through the cloth of our trousers.

  “Come to bed with me,” I whispered when the kiss ended. I wanted him, wanted the feel of his skin under my hands, the taste of his desire on my tongue.

  “Yes.” He slid off my lap. I rose to my feet and took his hand, drawing him after me to the bedroom. The evening breeze stirred the curtains, which did little to block the stream of late sunlight into the room. I kissed him thoroughly, savoring the taste of his mouth. He nipped my lower lip lightly with his teeth when I drew back.

  I removed his clothing one piece at a time, baring his skin to the light, kissing every inch. He fell back on the bed with a languid sigh, stretching his arms above his head and letting me do with him as I wished. I pulled his drawers off last, nibbling at his thighs, his knees. He smelled of sandalwood and musky desire, of everything good in the world, and I rubbed my face against his leg like a cat.

  He laughed. “Get undressed and come up here.”

  I did so, half-wishing for the kindness of candlelight rather than the revealing glow of the evening sun. My gawky limbs hardly seemed likely to enflame anyone’s passion. But his eyes followed my every move, the pupils wide with lust, his hand idly stroking his erection.

  His hunger fed mine; I ached for his touch, for the velvety slide of his member against mine. I stretched out beside him, and he rolled against me, his lips wandering from my mouth to my throat. I gasped and arched as he kissed and licked his way farther down—then bit me on a sensitive spot on my stomach, making me curl up with a short exclamation.

  He looked up at me with a wicked grin dancing on his mouth. “Ticklish?” he asked, although he damned well knew I was. And bit me there again.

  “S-Stop!” I ordered through laughter. He didn’t, so I thought it quite justified to retaliate with a pillow to the back of his head.

  “No fair!” he exclaimed, trying to grab it from me.

  Then we were wrestling, laughing like a pair of boys, no thought in the world except each other and this moment. I managed to pummel him a bit more with the pillow, until he pinned me under him. Catching my jaw with his hand, he turned my face to his. “I love to hear you laugh.”

  I answered with a kiss which began sweet and turned more passionate. His body felt incredible against mine, skin on skin, the heat and flex of his muscles beneath my hands. I rolled to face him, and his hand settled on my cock, stroking in long, delicious movements, which drew a moan from me. I wrapped my own hand around his erection, at the same time tossing a leg across his, pulling us tighter together.

  “Look at me,” he panted. “I want to see your face.”

  I did as he asked, even though it left me feeling far more exposed than any bareness of my skin. His green gaze locked with mine, threads of rust and blue texturing his irises. A flush of passion darkened his cheeks, and his lips parted. His hip twitched beneath my leg, thrusting his length against my eager hand, and his breathing came quick and rough.

  “I love this,” I whispered. “All of it. Your touch, the way you make me feel, so alive…”

  “Ival…” He closed his eyes, body shuddering, his cock twitching in my hand as he spent himself.

  I closed my eyes as well, curling into him, biting his shoulder as I thrust against his grasp. With a low growl, he rolled me suddenly over onto my back, mouth hot at my throat, biting and sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

  His passion was my undoing; I felt the familiar tightening in my sack, the rush of ecstasy, cresting and cresting like a wave until it broke, spilling over his grip and drawing a long, low cry of completion from the very depths of my being.

  We lay still and silent for a few minutes, our breath evening out. Then Griffin sat up and stretched, before going to the washbasin. A few moments later, he passed a fresh cloth to me, to wipe away the evidence of our passion.

  Once we were done, he came back to bed, and we lay side by side in the warm afternoon, without even a coverlet over us. Before I’d met him, I’d been fully naked only when I bathed; now it seemed natural to lie here with him. Some of the reading I’d done suggested many lovers only partially divested themselves of clothing, but I had no intention of depriving myself of the sight of his exquisite body.

  We were silent for a while, but he must have been thinking deeply, because eventually he said, “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d never gone into that basement.”

  I hadn’t expected this turn of conversation. Although on reflection, perhaps I should have. Perhaps today’s carefree excursion more closely echoed the life he’d once lived.

  “Well,” I said, “I suppose you would have remained in Chicago, with the Pinkertons. Last December, Blackbyrne would have successfully resurrected Leander and summoned the horror he meant to wear Leander’s skin. I would be either dead or some sort of thrall, and Threshold would be a smoking crater. Well, it is a smoking crater, but the entire town would be dead and monsters roaming the hills unchecked.”

  Griffin gave me an odd loo
k, and I wondered if he hadn’t wanted so literal an answer. “Do you know why I chose Widdershins as the place to start my new life?” he asked abruptly.

  “I assume because it’s quiet?” In truth, it hadn’t occurred to me to ask. Why wouldn’t someone wish to live here?

  He slipped his hand into mine, linking our fingers together. “I remember it quite clearly. I’d begun to recover from my confinement—gained weight, stopped jumping at my own shadow, learned what it was to be a human again instead of a caged animal.” I squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, but continued speaking without interruption. “I’d begun to think ahead to my future. Over breakfast one morning, Pa asked about my plans for the future. I couldn’t stay there indefinitely, of course, not after having been run out of town once already. I told him I wanted to open my own detective agency. Ma asked where, and I realized I didn’t have an answer.

  “Father read the paper over breakfast, and it lay on the table between us. I glanced down and saw the headline. The Final Journey of the Black Pharaoh: Nephren-ka and His Treasure Steam Their Way to America. And below: Archaeological Find of the Century to Make Landfall in Widdershins Next Week. I just blurted out: Widdershins.”

  I turned my head to look at him incredulously. “You must be joking. You’re here because of Christine?”

  He grinned ruefully. “I’m afraid so. Once it came out of my mouth, I thought, why not? Widdershins must be as good a place as any. I made arrangements and ended up here almost a year ago. Of course, I knew within a week I’d made a terrible mistake.”

  His confession took me aback. “You…you did?”

  “I’ve never seen a town so determined to keep its secrets.” His fingers tightened on mine. “A terrible environment for a private detective who hopes to thrive. Still, I had some funds set aside, and I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”

  “By which you mean you’re as stubborn as a concussed mule.”

  He laughed. “Perhaps I am.” The laughter died away, and his gaze grew thoughtful. “Do you…do you believe things happen for a reason?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  I shrugged. “If things happened for a reason, as you say, all it would have taken to keep Blackbyrne from almost destroying the world would have been to prevent Leander from drowning. A mild cold to keep us off the lake would have done it.”