Hoofbeats thundered in the distance but grew closer.
They stared at each other. Madeline’s eyes were huge and liquid, and she clutched her stomach, crying out in pain.
Emme grasped the keys from her stepsister’s cold hands and said, “Go! Go to the lake now!”
More shouts sounded from within the locked cavern, and Emme felt a terror born of helplessness.
The hoofbeats drew closer, and as Emme shoved one of the keys into the lock with enough force to hurt her hand, a horse and rider flew around the bend. Nigel Crowe sat atop a huge black steed that seemed an extension of him, and Emme gasped. Still trying to turn the key, she threw her other arm around Madeline, who was doubled over in pain.
“Stand aside,” Nigel shouted.
Emme dropped the keys and nudged Madeline to the side, holding her close. Nigel lifted a sledgehammer and swung at the gate. The lock gave way with a deafening crash and screech of metal, and he dropped the hammer. Reaching for Madeline, he pulled her roughly from Emme’s arms.
“She must get to the lake,” Emme gasped as he hauled Madeline onto the saddle in front of him.
“I know.” He pulled on the reins, the horse reared, and he was off with a whirlwind of leaves and branches.
Shaking and bewildered, Emme shoved open the gate, picking up the keys. Using Maddie’s torch, she moved quickly into the deeper recesses of the dungeon, uncertain of what she’d find.
She came across another gate, and the torchlight shone on hands that shook the bars. Cries from within hastened her movements, and she again shoved one of the keys into a lock. Twisting it, she felt profound relief when the bolt slid back.
She tore the gate open. “Run, quickly,” she said as a handful of people, mostly men, wide-eyed and terrified, some bent in pain, rushed out of the gate.
She hurried with them to the entrance, adding, “Do you know where you are? The lake on the O’Shea property is in that direction, northward. Separate quickly, but head in that direction. It’s the fastest way out of the forest.”
One man grasped her hand and kissed her knuckles, and a few others shouted their thanks as they all disappeared into the night.
She moved forward, training the light on the ground, noting articles of clothing the fleeing prisoners were shedding. They had to, of course, but they were leaving a trail the hunters would easily find.
She heard a grinding of gears, and looking back at the exterior gate, realized it had been mechanized and timed to open just before midnight. The interior gate also clicked, but faltered and stopped since the gate was already open.
Her breath came in painful bursts, and she wrapped her arm around herself. She wasn’t sure if any members of the hunting party would come straight to the dungeon or were hoping for more sport by giving the prey a chance to spread out through the forest.
She would need to find her way back to the lodge immediately. Knowing where the lake was gave her a sense of place, but as she looked at the horse, which had remained faithfully in place despite the chaos, she didn’t know how she could possibly climb up on its back.
She had no idea where Oliver was, and knowing he might be in his awful brother’s clutches added to her worry until she didn’t think she could hold one more drop. The list was long and daunting. The shifters might not get far enough away to avoid the hunters, or they might come upon Madeline and Nigel. She had to hope the shifters were all well-intentioned people. Madeline may not have made it to the lake in time, which begged the question that had been nagging at Emme for some time—what sort of shifter was Maddie? A fish? She’d never heard of a nautical shifter.
She leaned against the horse’s side and rested her head, which ached along with everything else. After a moment, she stepped away from it, shining the light on a discarded shirt on the ground, and bent over to pick it up. She could at least gather the clothing close by, hopefully eliminating some of the trail.
She stood, dizzy, and turned back to the horse when her breath caught in her throat. Lysette stood behind her, her venomous anger so thick in the air that Emme felt it without trying. Lysette looked at her as though searching for words she was too angry to even express.
“You released the beasts,” she finally bit out, her voice low and even.
“I released the people.” Emme remained still.
“I have been planning this event for months. Months.”
“Is your father aware of the details?” For one small moment, Emme hoped Ronald O’Shea was only irritating, not murderous.
“Of course he is. When I told him about it, he said if the hunt was a success, I could accompany him on his next safari.” She paused, regarding Emme dispassionately. “Now you have ruined it.”
Emme was more concerned about Lysette’s cooling emotion than an outburst. Her demeanor had turned calculating. “And the Committee members? Are they aware of the nature of this hunt?”
“Of course they are. All the members join Father on his safaris. The prey there is of the same kind I had corralled here. The Committee enjoy the irony of that variety especially.”
Horror settled over Emme, and she felt faint. “Those trophies,” she said, her lips numb, “the trophies inside were shape-shifting humans?”
“Such a ridiculous girl, you are.” Lysette’s eyes hardened, and she inched closer to Emme. “Where is Madeline?”
Emme remained silent.
“Where is she?”
“Gone. She has left. You cannot harm her anymore.”
A muscle worked in Lysette’s jaw. “Then your fate is sealed, Emmeline. The detective was showing interest in me until you intentionally sent him on a merry chase after you. Then you wrangled compliments out of Papa. And now you’ve sent Madeline away. You have taken everything that was mine.” She smiled. “Now it is my turn.”
“Lysette—”
“You ought to have stayed on the airship. You’d have been safer in Portugal.”
Emme’s heart leapt into her throat.
“I shall take you back to Edinburgh. I would hate for you to miss your Summit address.”
Lysette struck so swiftly that Emme’s world turned completely black before she hit the ground.
Oliver’s head pounded, and he swayed with the even movement of a well-sprung carriage. He rested against comfortable cushions and was warm and dry despite the obvious sound of rain on the roof.
He squinted at the low light of a small Tesla sconce mounted to the interior wall beside a window adorned with closed velvet drapes. The light pierced the back of his skull, and as he lifted his hand to rub his eyes, the other hand came with it. His wrists were tied securely with rope that bit into his skin when he tried to separate his hands.
He had no idea where he was, or why. He tried opening his eyes again and sat up. The pain in his head intensified to nausea. He took a shallow breath and lifted his hands again and felt along his head to a bump on the back that was raised—and bloody, if the stickiness was any indication.
He opened his eyes a crack to see a bright-red smear on his fingertips. A dry chuckle sounded from a blurred form opposite him, and his heart beat faster. He would know that voice anywhere.
“I would have tried to speak with you using less brutish means, but you’ve built a reputation, brother, as quite a brutish man yourself.”
“Worried I would hurt you, Lawrence?” he mumbled and winced again as he sat up straight.
His brother laughed, but this time there was a sharper edge to it, a coldness. “Of course! Couldn’t have you catching me by surprise, especially with a silver dagger in your boot.” Lawrence leaned forward, and Oliver’s vision finally focused.
He caught his breath. He’d not seen his brother since he was turned, and where he had been handsome before, now he was arresting. He had the undead quality that enhanced every good physical trait, and Oliver had no doubts about how hi
s brother had risen through the underworld ranks. He had always been smart, and now he was more handsome than seemed real.
Each negative trait, those that had driven the brothers apart many years earlier, was also magnified. Oliver felt it as Lawrence smiled and narrowed his eyes. His ability to manipulate, his desire to play to a crowd—those would be enhanced, doubled. Regrettably, the desires that fed the traits would be also.
“Where are you taking me?” It seemed the simplest question to begin the conversation. He realized he’d not made it more than four steps outside the hotel before he’d been assaulted. Emme had been right—he had been in danger. To have remained in the hotel, though—that was unthinkable now. He’d have brought this horror directly to Emme’s feet. She was safe with Gus, and he had to be grateful for that much.
“Only a ride around town so we can renew our bonds of fraternal affection.”
Oliver closed his eyes and leaned his head back, carefully avoiding the lump. “What could you possibly want with me, Lawrence? You and I were getting along well by ignoring each other.”
“Yes. We’ve been ignoring each other for some time. You did not even come to my aid when I was bitten.”
“I contacted you, told you I would catch the first flight to your side. You told me you’d solicited the bite and that I no longer need tell the world I had a brother.”
“Yes, I suppose I did. You irritated me, Oliver. Always did. Always the good one, always doing what you were told, forever currying favor with authority. Until you became the authority yourself.” The sneer was subtle but there.
“And you never wanted a thing to do with pleasing anyone but yourself. Seems we both achieved our ends.” Oliver’s eyes were still closed—it hurt less.
“Are you not worried about exposing your neck to me?” Lawrence’s voice was smooth and low.
Oliver cracked open one eye. “You’d have torn out my throat by now if it suited you. I can only imagine you want to play with me for a time. Like a lion with a mouse.”
“Smug, arrogant. Nothing changes.” Lawrence was across the carriage before Oliver could blink, and the thing baring its teeth and digging its fingernails into his throat was no longer his brother but something else entirely. “Ahh, now your heart beats faster.”
Oliver met his brother’s angry gaze and blinked, but remained silent.
Lawrence slowly released his throat and sank back into his seat, his teeth retracting, the smooth façade returning.
Oliver rubbed his neck. “Of course my heart beat faster.” He coughed, clearing his throat. “I’m not dead.” It seemed counterintuitive to taunt a vampire when he wanted very much to remain alive and spend that life with a feisty social activist, but he was testing Lawrence, searching for his limits, for the odds of finding any remaining humanity.
“I am curious,” he continued, and Lawrence politely inclined his head and gestured for Oliver to continue. “I know a vampire who is a very amiable fellow, seeks for nothing more than to get along with his fellow man. He tells me there are many more like him.”
“Guster Gustavsen?” Lawrence grinned. “Yes. Industrious, kind fellow, wears one of those ridiculous glass-heart tiepins. Stays out of my way, and I allow him to scurry along his own little path. Allowing him to see me tonight was part of my plan. He is nearly as predictable as are you.”
“Are you working with Ronald O’Shea?”
Lawrence arched a perfect brow. “Ronald? Oh, no. His daughter is so much brighter. He jumps at her commands, and as our end goals meet in the same place, a liaison with Lysette O’Shea has been the natural course of things.”
“What are those end goals?” Oliver swallowed, his head still pounding, the nausea still threatening.
“The Predatory Shifter Regulations Committee wants the Summit meetings to fail, but they are under such scrutiny that they have been forced to go about their objective differently. Removing Emmeline O’Shea from the proceedings will go a long way toward achieving that end. Removing Emmeline O’Shea is also Miss Lysette’s primary objective. Since Lysette holds the reins of her titled father and soon, the family money, you see why an alliance with her is beneficial to me.”
Oliver bit his tongue. Lysette O’Shea would never see a penny of the “family money” but probably didn’t realize it. He made a side note to have Conley assign a bodyguard to protect Emme’s mother.
“So an alliance between you and the PSRC, along with the O’Shea influence, is worth all of this trouble? And I suppose you wrote the letter to Emmeline that caused such alarm?”
Lawrence chuckled. “No, that was the creative work of Lysette. Dictated to the young Mr. Stuart Rawley, who was only too happy to act as scribe. He is enamored of Lysette, Lysette hates Emmeline, and thus you have the makings of a perfect family tragedy.”
Oliver clenched his jaw until it ached. “I am going to enjoy ending Mr. Rawley. And the carriage accident?”
“Mr. Randolph arranged it, but at the time, Lysette hadn’t realized you would be keeping Miss Emmeline company. I understand she was most worried about your safety.” He paused. “And my, but you are determined to protect your ladylove.”
Oliver fought to remain impassive. “She is my charge, the object of my work task, not my ladylove.”
“Ah, good. Then you’ll not be alarmed when I tell you what Lysette has planned for her.”
Oliver’s anger grew, and for the first time since awakening, he knew he was in danger of reacting to Lawrence’s taunts. “Lysette will be forced to get past a vampire, who although mild-mannered, has been instructed to protect Emmeline with deadly force.”
“But, brother, mayhem erupted at the Grand Hotel after you and I departed.” He held up a transcriber. “Lysette is not a happy young woman right now because Emmeline foiled some carefully constructed plans. It appears Emmeline arrived at the lodge just in time—and without our friend Gus.”
Oliver looked at the curtained window, his fear and anger mounting.
“Regrettably, she is separated from her valiant little vampire, so you see, not only have you managed to get yourself captured, you failed her as well. Provided I can use my powers of persuasion on Lysette and prevent her from killing the little activist outright, I may just satisfy my own curiosity about the woman who has finally captured your heart. I’ll turn her, and then”—he smiled with malicious facetiousness—“she’ll have an eternity to convince the world that all creatures under the sun deserve the same rights.”
Oliver lunged across the carriage, enjoying the satisfaction of catching Lawrence off guard before Lawrence responded and sent him back into the dark.
Emme shivered and groaned as she shifted against the cold ground. Light and warmth flickered a short distance away, and she opened her eyes, struggling to reach the surface of her sluggish thoughts. She’d had laudanum once before, when she was young and had fallen out of a tree. Her mother had panicked, convinced that Emme’s pain was worse than it was, and Emme had slept for two days.
The feeling now was exactly the same, and she gritted her teeth against the fog and dizziness. The fact that she was waking up was the one bright thought she could manage. The downside, of course, was that whatever benefit the drug provided against pain was also wearing off. Her ankle was on fire, everything ached from her head to her feet, and as she shoved herself upright, a wave of nausea nearly overwhelmed her.
What time was it? How long had she been asleep, and who had given her laudanum? She blinked at her surroundings, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. She was in some kind of cave, or maybe an underground dwelling. It was carved out, man-made, with low stone ceilings, walls, and floors.
It wasn’t the dungeon that had held the shifters; the construction there had been largely earthen. The firelight flickering in the far corner finally became bearable enough to look at, despite the pain in her skull, and she saw Lysette seated on a low stool next
to the flames.
“I was beginning to worry I’d given you too much. You’ve slept an entire day and another night.” She smiled, and Emme’s blood ran cold.
“Where are we?” she croaked, and coughed.
Lysette pointed with her chin. “There is water for you. Can’t have you dying just yet.”
Emme grabbed the water pitcher and drank straight from it, bypassing the cup that sat beside it.
“Manners, Emmeline. What would Mother say?”
Emme swallowed the cold water, hoping Lysette hadn’t put anything nasty in it. “Where are we?” she repeated.
“You are in Edinburgh’s underground, where only undesirables live, mostly the undead kind. You are in a far corner where nobody will ever find you, and your bones will waste away until there is nothing left.”
Emme bit her tongue rather than snap that bones did not waste away for a very long time and that a scientist somewhere in the future would surely excavate before she disappeared permanently.
Think, Emme. Think. She had to get free. Lysette’s weak spot was always her arrogant pride, and Emme hoped she could manipulate it enough to buy herself some time.
“I realize you clearly want me to suffer before you leave me forever, so I’m certain you’ve devised something delightful.” She tried to shift and possibly stand but realized belatedly that a large manacle encircled her wounded ankle. She might inch forward, but she wouldn’t reach Lysette, the fire, or the gated door.
“Very well. This is my plan, Emmeline.” She pulled a bag to her side, and Emme realized it was her portmanteau, the one she’d managed to keep safe for days against all odds. Lysette pulled two small books from inside, and Emme’s heart beat so hard she feared it would explode.
“No. Lysette, you do not need to do anything with those. Send them to Blackwell Manor.”
Brass Carriages and Glass Hearts Page 21