A Grave Inheritance (36 page)

My years of training had prepared me to see a brain, healthy or weak, large or small, but a brain all the same. It took every ounce of will to overcome this habit and force the physical image from my mind’s eye—in essence, to snuff out the internal candle and plunge my mind into a state of darkness without breaking the link.

At first, there was nothing. I waited, having gone through a similar exercise numerous times with Cate this afternoon. A stubborn minute passed when something finally shifted, prodded by another trickle of power, and I found myself staring at what resembled the blackest night sky alight with a million stars.

A swirl of color spun across my thoughts, there one moment, then gone. When blurred images appeared, I pushed a little deeper. The edges tightened into separate forms, and I started at the sight of Henry and his father. The two men stood facing each other, expressions contorted and bodies rigid with rage. A sword hung at Henry’s side, the very sword the duke had sent Henry to fetch from the family’s ancestral home as a red herring to conceal his real purposes. Studying the image, father and son seemed frozen in a still life until enough time passed, and I realized that every movement proceeded at a fraction of normal speed.

By no means could this be responsible for his present mood. Obviously I had gone too deep, which would explain the slowness of their actions; Henry may have suppressed his anger for the time being, but the memory continued to play out on some level in his subconscious.

Pulling back, the two men disappeared, and again I waited, this time skimming along the surface. It wasn’t long before another image appeared, blurry like the first. My pulse jumped in anticipation as the lines began to darken and take on form.

A woman came into view, her back to me as she stood in front of what looked to be an altar. Stone walls curved to a low ceiling above her and soft lantern light warmed the otherwise cold grayness in the small room. At the first heartbeat, familiarity resonated in the image, from the dark curls that spilled down her back to the simple white sheath that stopped at mid-calf. Or perhaps it was the way she trembled with rage, her hands fisted at either side.

The second heartbeat brought full understanding.

We are at All Hallows. I’ve returned from the Otherworld, and Henry has just rebuffed my attentions.

Through his memory, I caught sight of a pile of clothing on the floor. Then in one swift motion, my other self yanked the sheath over her head and threw it into the basket.
Gracious me!
There I stood in nothing more than my skin. A blush warmed my cheeks, growing hotter still as Henry traced a slow line with his eyes along my spine, pausing at the small of my back.

My next heartbeat was skipped altogether and the breath hitched in my throat.
That is quite far enough.

When his gaze slid farther, I moved so abruptly, the link snapped between us. Pushing up from his lap, I found him watching me with heavily hooded eyes.

“See something of interest?” he asked, clearly amused.

A heated retort prickled my tongue. Grudgingly, I forced it aside, choosing to forgo the reprimand rather than admit to my own illicit behavior. “I...I don’t know what you mean.”

“Save the playacting, Selah. I knew you were in there from the start.”

Indecision tugged between my temples. I could either continue with the ruse, or let him know exactly what I had seen. And then be free to give him the piece of my mind he deserved. The second option won the moment he raised a brow.

Lifting my chin, I returned the challenge. “You watched me undress that night in the crypt.” Somehow my blush managed to deepen.

He gave another contented sigh. “Ahh, yes, a prized memory. You have my eternal gratitude, madam.”

My eyes widened with indignation. “You make it sound as though I did it on purpose.”

His expression turned mischievous. “Didn’t you?”

“Not hardly,” I huffed. “Clearly our argument caused a momentary lapse of judgment. Under the circumstances, a gentleman would have turned away.”

He laughed outright. “And a lady would have given notice before stripping to her skin. Not that I’m complaining. Since then I’ve spent many quiet moments contemplating the perfection of your backside.”

I gave him a stern look that grew somewhat less dignified with a partially stifled giggle. “You’re incorrigible.”

Based on his expression, he completely agreed.

“And a libertine,” I added for good measure.

This earned another snort of laughter. “It’s no more than you deserve for trespassing where you’ve no right.” He folded his arms behind his head. “I forgive you though, but only because you’re even more beautiful when you blush.”

Right as he may be about my trespassing, the man was having too much fun at my expense.

“Is that so?” The neckline of my nightgown slipped over one shoulder as I rose to my knees.

His gaze fastened on the bare skin. “Like an angel,” he said in a voice noticeably deeper.

I arched my back in a stretch, drawing a shower of dark curls over the other shoulder. “Tell me, my lord, do you think angels blush...everywhere?”

His gaze turned to fire as a slow, shuddering breath shook his broad chest. “Most assuredly,” he said after a moment. His smile returned as he closed his eyes, though somewhat tighter than before. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve pleasant thoughts to attend to.”

“Don’t let me stop you.” My own smile turned downright impish. Slowly reaching to his side, I snatched a pillow and gave him a resounding bat to the head. In the midst of a triumphant smirk, two hands gripped my waist. With a squeal of surprise, I found myself pressed against him, his arms like a vise around me.

“Perhaps a fallen angel,” he said, brushing a kiss on my lips.

With only his linen shirt and my nightgown between us, the fire jumped to life inside me. Frowning, I turned my face away before he could kiss me again.

“What is it,” he asked, concerned. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, of course not.” I kept my eyes diverted. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

His grip softened and he ran a gentle hand along my back. “I’ve upset you. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s not you, Henry. Well, at least not directly. I just...” the words trailed off, and a good half minute passed before I found the courage to resume. “I was just wondering if you ever felt the same thing with Justine as you do with me?” There it was, my insecurity laid bare before him.

He continued to stroke my back. “You mean because she is also goddess born?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak.

“The only thing I ever felt with Justine was unmitigated lust. Either she learned to hide her power during such occasions or neither of us felt strongly enough to bring it to the surface.” He tilted my chin up, and his gaze locked on mine. “Never in my life did I feel anything so amazing until that night we kissed in the woods at Brighmor. And then I was a lost man.” Unguarded love filled his green eyes, and my heart nearly melted.

I leaned forward ready to make amends for being such a nitwit. “See, I told you it was nothing to worry about.”

Henry responded immediately, his arms tightening around me as he pulled me even closer. “Seems you were right,” he murmured against my lips. “And I know how much you like to be right.”

Thump...Thump...Thump...

I froze, and pulled away a fraction of inch.

“Now what?” Henry asked.

“Did you hear that?” Pushing up, I turned toward the fireplace.

Thump...Thump...Thump...

Henry moved with the grace and speed of a cat. A few long strides brought him to the hearth where he flipped the hidden lever. I scampered to the end of the bed just as the wall panel flew open to reveal the anxious face of a young girl.

“Beg your pardon, milord,” she said with an awkward curtsey. “Sophie sent me to fetch Miss Kilbrid.”

Henry moved aside, and the girl came into the room holding a lantern. “Who are you?” he asked.

“It’s Ellen,” I said before she could answer. “I met you that day in Mr. Faber’s shop.”

The girl shuffled her feet nervously. “Aye, miss. I’m the same.”

I looked her up and down, taking in the short, sturdy frame and coarse dress. At around twelve years, this girl already knew the nature of work. “Are you one of Cate’s children?”

She nodded. “My folks is dead, miss. I work in the bakehouse most days, but her ladyship has me keeping an eye on the younger orphans while that she devil’s about causing trouble.”

Henry shifted. “Is that why you’re here? Does someone need help?”

Standing almost side-by-side, Ellen looked a mouseling compared to Henry. “Aye, milord. I came to fetch her ladyship, but Sophie says she’s been called away by the King himself. One of the kitchen boys got the pox and the whole palace went into an uproar.”

“And Sophie told you I could help?”

“Aye, miss. Sophie said ye was the same as Lady Dinley.” Her voice broke unnaturally. Wiping a sleeve across her eyes, she turned just enough for the firelight to glint off the dried tear tracks that already stained her cheeks.

“Who needs Miss Kilbrid’s help?” Henry asked.

Ellen looked at me. “It’s my friend Jenny, miss. She...she don’t have much time left.”

* * *

Two-and three-storied lodgings sat cheek by jowl, jutting this way and that in a ramshackle wooden maze. Rather than cobbles or crushed rock underfoot, a thick layer of straw had been trampled into the muddy lanes to keep them from swallowing passersby whole. The air reeked of open sewers and rot, and I went the short distance from the carriage with one hand gripping Henry’s arm and the other holding a handkerchief over my nose. Four footmen remained behind, armed with pistols and lanterns blazing to await our return. Or come to our aid if need be. In the dark of night, even darker shadows huddled in stairwells and under overhangs in search of shelter from the constant drizzle. Someone groaned and retched violently just out of sight in an adjoining alleyway. A baby cried, its fragile voice passing through the thin walls.

We followed Ellen through a doorway. Henry lifted the lantern to illuminate a single room with one small window. A cursory look showed a wooden chest and two chairs at one end of the room, and a pile of dingy blankets at the other. No fire burned to ward against the cold. Lowering the handkerchief, I gagged once, realizing too late that it smelled worse inside than out.
Plink...Plink...Plink...
Water dripped from the ceiling.

A feeble whisper floated in the darkness. “Help me...”

“Who’s there,” I asked, my hand tightening on Henry’s arm.

No one answered.

Something clinked in the far corner near the chest. Henry started at once toward the noise. Light spilled over a man slumped on the floor, his back pressed against the wall and legs splayed out in front. Glassy eyes stared past us, and he whimpered from the intrusion. A bottle lay just out of reach as though it had slipped from his grasp. Reddish brown smudges rimmed his mouth, smeared over layers of dirt and grime.

Henry squatted next to the man and picked up the bottle. “Gin,” he said in disgust, holding it to his nose. “The man’s dead drunk.” He tossed the bottle aside and stood.

“It’s the only way to make him stop once the madness sets in,” Ellen said, a step behind us. “Cate tells me to get him a quart whenever I see it coming on. But it moved like a phantom tonight, and I didn’t know till it were too late.”

I turned to look at her. “Where’s Jenny?”

In reply, Ellen crossed the room and knelt next to the pile of blankets. “She’s here, miss. I...I covered her before I left.”

Kneeling beside Ellen, I gently folded back a thin layer of gray wool. Ellen gave a small sob. Henry pulled in a sharp breath, only to release it in a curse.

“Gracious Heaven!” I exclaimed. “What happened to her?”

Ellen pointed a trembling finger at the man. “Her uncle done it, miss. Went after her like a wild animal.”

I stared at the child in stunned silence. In my worst nightmares, I’d never imagined something so gruesome. Both eyes were bruised and swollen shut. A deep, jagged line cut a path across her forehead, exposing the skull in places. Bloody patches shined on her scalp where large clumps of brown hair had been pulled from the root. One cheek bore what looked to be a bite mark.

Bile hit my throat. The shredded remnants of a filthy shift did little to hide the purple and green bruises that stained the once pale skin across her skinny chest and abdomen. Red splotches encircled her neck, and a trail of bite marks ran up one arm. The other arm lay at an unnatural angle, bent back at the elbow.

How could anyone do this?

Ellen tugged at my sleeve. “Please, miss. Can ye help her?”

Hope was the only cure for dismay, and I offered it with surety. “Yes, Ellen, but I need you to step outside with Lord Fitzalan.”

Henry’s hand came down on my shoulder. “I’m not leaving you in here with that monster. He may be down for now, but there’s no telling how long he’ll stay that way.”

I heaved a frustrated sigh. Every second we argued would be another second this poor child had to suffer. “Fine, just bring Ellen to the other side of the room.”

Ellen kept a hold of my sleeve. “It’s all right, miss. I know Lady Dinley is special. If ye got the same gift, there ain’t no need to hide it from me. I’ve seen it before.”

“You’ve seen her heal?” I asked.

“Aye, miss. Her ladyship says I’ve got some of the same blood in my veins.”

Her sincerity left little room for doubt. “Very well.” I returned my attention to Jenny. The girl lay unconscious without the least sign of pain or awareness of her physical surroundings. Only the slight movement of her chest confirmed that life remained in the little body. And even that action would cease unless I acted soon.

Fire leapt to life inside me. With my hands placed on the girl’s chest, I closed my eyes to better concentrate as the power flowed down my arms into the very tips of my fingers. I released an initial stream, prepared to find all manner of internal damage, when the warmth unexpectedly faded. My eyes flew open, and I looked at her, shocked by what had just happened. During my many years of healing, I had experienced something similar only one other time...