Abigail Jones (Chronicles of Abigail Jones #1) (27 page)

"Look, Abigail. There's something I must say to you, or I'll regret it the rest of my life." Shoving his hands inside his pockets, Jack seemed to be gathering his breath—or his courage. "Your relationship, with the earl. What people are saying"—he looked directly at me—"it isn't true, is it?"

Heat scorched my cheeks, and I found I had difficulty answering him directly. "I've never known you to care about gossip."

"Tell me," he persisted.

"His lordship ... and I ..." Not wanting to tell yet another lie, I looked at him helplessly. "It is complicated, Jack."

His face hardened, his hands balling at his sides. "It's true, then. The bastard's compromised you."

"No, he has not." Though I was blushing furiously, I said the words with emphasis. I could not allow him to think badly of Hux. "That would imply wrongdoing on his part. What has transpired between us has been the result of a mutual decision."

"
Mutual
? You're a slip of a girl, no match for a bloody libertine. God, I could kill him for what he's done! After he's had his fun, he'll move on. But you,"—Jack's chest surged, his face splotched with fury—"you'll be ruined for life. Soiled goods, Abigail. Did you think of that when you made your
mutual
decision?"

Overhead, the branches rustled in a sudden gust. I gulped down breaths, trying to calm myself. "He is not going to
move on
as you so plainly put it. Hux means to marry me."

"When?" Jack said bluntly.

"He and I are going to talk about it. Tonight. Oh, please don't hassle me about this, Jack." I bit my lip. "As I told you, the situation is intricate."

"Intricate my arse," Jack said. "He's either going to marry you or he isn't. And I'd wager my life it's the latter. Pull the wool from your eyes, Abigail: a bloody earl is not going to marry the likes of you."

Crimson flashed before my eyes. "The
likes
of me—"

"I warned you about this," he muttered, dragging his fingers through his hair. "From the first, I told you it wasn't proper. I told you not to take that bloody position—who'd ever heard of a female secretary? And now look what's happened. You've been disgraced. You'll be shunned in the village—God, when my mother hears about it ..."

That was the last straw. "I don't give a damn what your mother thinks!" I exploded. "Or what
you
think, Jack Simon. Or anyone else for that matter. If you are all so ... so
pea
-brained that you cannot understand why Hux would wish to marry me, then bollocks to you!"

In the silence that followed, Jack stared at me, slack-jawed.

I was pacing, kicking up stones in the grass. "Is it so incomprehensible that Hux might wish to marry me? So impossible that he should love me?"

"That is not what I'm saying ..." he protested.

"Am I so little, so plain and odd that the world cannot believe me worthy of love?"

"Abigail—"

"I am
tired
of feeling small, of hiding who I am," I burst out. "I have dreams, too! You of all people should understand. You have your heart's passion, your experiments, and even if people mock you, it doesn't matter, does it? Because you know it's what you must do. Well, ridiculous as it may seem to you, I have that passion too. When it comes to Hux—"

"For God's sake, will you just listen?" Jack grabbed my shoulders, halting my ranting progress. "No, look at me, Abby. 'Tis not you I doubt, alright? 'Tis the earl. He's a heartless rake. Besides that, you cannot deny the difference between the two of you in station."

"It doesn't matter to him. He is a gentleman, and he accepts me for who I am. I would—I would trust him with my life," I said with sudden clarity.

"You are certain of that?" he asked in gruff tones.

"Yes." I said simply. "I love him."

Something darkened in Jack's eyes. He released me. "I suppose that's that, then. You have your heart set on this path, and there's no swaying you, is there?"

I shook my head.

"Despite what you may think, I have your interests at heart. And I
am
your friend, Abigail. If anything changes, if you need me—for anything ..." A shadow of the familiar lop-sided smile caused a bittersweet clutching in my chest. "You know where to find me."

"Thank you, Jack ..."

But he was already walking away.

"... for everything," I whispered.

As I watched his retreating form hunching against the wind, I felt a pang of loss. A chill chased over me. I looked up through the branches and saw the approaching storm.

*****

By the time we returned to Hope End, a light drizzle had started to fall. I was so eager to see Hux that I did not bother to change my damp clothes and went directly to the library where I thought he might be. Although trepidation swirled in my breast, it was tethered by newfound resolve. His love gave me courage. I trusted him and in our love. And there was one way to prove that: by telling him the truth.

I knocked, and a male voice answered. But it was not my beloved sitting at the desk.

"Oh, 'tis you, Mr. Creagan. I'm sorry to disturb you. I was looking for his lordship—"

The solicitor had already risen to his feet. "You're not disturbing me at all, Miss Jones. In fact, I was just appreciating your thorough and systematic inventory of Huxton's library. Demme, if I couldn't have used a skill like yours in my own office!"

I blushed. "Thank you, sir. You're most kind. Do you happen to know where the earl is?"

"I do. That is why I am here, waiting for you." Mr. Creagan plodded over, a piece of paper in hand. "He wanted me to give you this."

Puzzled, I took the note and broke the seal. The ground trembled beneath my feet, and the room faded to a blur. Somewhere in the distance Mr. Creagan was saying something. All I heard was the roar of blood as Hux's words swam before my eyes.

My dearest love,

I would have you wed the kind of man you deserve. One whose soul has been cleansed of all past sins. Do not worry, sweet Abigail, for I will be back soon. Wait for me.

H.

THIRTY-TWO

"I know he has gone to London. But
where
in the city?" I asked Mr. Creagan as I paced before the grated fire.

The solicitor stood by, his posture one of uncertainty. I saw his eyes fleet longingly over to the armchair. "Miss Jones, I have told you several times now. I haven't any idea. The earl only instructed me to give you the letter and to stay on until his return. To, ahem, assist you with anything you require."

To keep an eye on me, more like
, I thought with grim despair.
Damn you, Hux.

"I shouldn't worry if I were you, Miss Jones," Mr. Creagan continued in a soothing voice. "He assured me he should be back by Sunday. 'Tis but two nights. A little distraction, and he'll be back before you know it. Would you care for a game of chess, perhaps?"

No, I do not want to play bloody chess!
I wanted to scream. At this moment, Hux could be in mortal danger. Oh God, if he was hurt in any way ... anguish compressed my chest, a suffocating pressure of pain and guilt. If only I had told him the truth of my abilities. Perhaps he would have let me accompany him. Perhaps I would be by his side this very instant, helping him fend off whatever demons he had called upon himself ...

Heaven help me, this was all my fault.

Feeling the hot push against my eyelids, I told myself I could not panic. I had to think. I had to review the facts and decide upon the best course of action. Rationally, calmly.

"Miss Jones, all you alright?" The solicitor wore a harried look. "Shall I ring for some tea?"

I forced a smile. "No thank you, Mr. Creagan. I am quite fine." I pretended to stifle a yawn. "I believe 'tis the fatigue speaking."

"You must be worn out from all the activities of the day," he said instantly. "I should intrude upon your company no longer."

"Thank you, Mr. Creagan. I am rather tired."

The solicitor bowed and walked to the door. There, he paused and turned to look at me. "If I may be impertinent, Miss Jones—I have known his lordship for a long time. I have never seen him as content, as happy as he is now. He told me that he plans a future with you."

I swallowed back tears. "He is my world, Mr. Creagan."

The solicitor smiled. "And you, his. That is why he had me come, you know. To make sure legalities were in place to see to your comfort should anything ... well, to guarantee that you will be taken care of in any eventuality. You need never worry about a thing, Miss Jones. Your future has been secured."

My future—what meaning did it have if Hux was not in it?

"Good night, Mr. Creagan," I said.

He bowed again and departed.

I began to pace again, to keep up with the thoughts racing in my head. I reviewed the facts as I surmised them: Hux had gone to London, to hunt the last demons ... and to finish what he had started with Lilith. I glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. Eight o' clock. The debauchery of the night would have barely started. Hux would be safe yet, just setting out to do his tracking. But where would he go? Where did one hunt the Lilin?

I looked at the portrait, and my breath cut short. I left the room in a run.

*****

Once again, my journey up the dark tower was propelled by urgency. I stumbled a few times, catching myself against the sweating stones. When I reached the summit, the details returned eerily to me: the wooden crucifix at the center, the blue stubs of candles littering the ground. I ran to the trunks lining the walls. Hefting the heavy lids, I exposed Hux's demon-fighting paraphernalia. Candles and silver chains, rolls of ancient parchment and bunches of sweet-smelling dried herbs. In the last trunk, I found what I was looking for.

With shaking hands, I lifted out the glass box. Inside, the demon's hair ornament winked at me, a fiery glitter. Taking several deep breaths, I calmed myself. The necklace at my throat hummed in readiness. I could not allow myself to become overwhelmed by the demon's sensations. I could not risk losing control. At the same time, I had to slip into her mind. For this time, I was not to bear witness, but to direct the vision as an active participant. I had to investigate the demon's thoughts and experiences to find what I needed. The place where Hux had first met this Lilin. The hunting ground.

Opening the box, I reached inside.

Instantly, the poppy began to warm in my hands. The familiar disconcerting blaze of color and heat swept across my senses. As I'd practiced, I anchored myself to the charm, its warmth a steadying influence. I now saw the master chamber through the Lilin's eyes: Hux seducing her, trying to subdue her, my breath pumping as she reaches for the deadly flower. The chain biting into my throat as I am dragged up into the tower. My anger, my arousal as he tries to banish me from my comfortable home. Damn him, I will not go. Who is this lowly
man
to tell me, Daughter of Lilith, Queen of the Demons, where I can and cannot stay?

Fury fills me; I want to choke the life out of him. I laugh as he struggles impotently against the soft prison of my hair. Mayhap I will fuck him while he writhes, use that cock before it goes to waste. There is another now—another human, a girl, just as useless. She thinks to stop me? Me! I blast her with my fire. But why does she not—

My eyes hone in on the gleam above her bare tits. A current buzzes through me. I have seen it before, we have all seen it. It belongs to The Mother. The necklace that was stolen from her by the Faithless One. The Hidden Daughter. The Mother has opened her mind to us, her faithful offspring; we have all seen the disloyal actions of the Lost Lilin. And we must all prove our love, our everlasting devotion to She Who Birthed Us by finding this cursed cross. This despicable amulet which shields against the Mother's power and hides a Lilin from her own kin.

For centuries, The Mother has been searching for her lost charm—and now I have found it. Excitement surges through me, the promise of reward, of The Mother's praise arousing my juices.
Give it to me. Give back what belongs to Mother.
The girl thinks to fight me, I will
destroy
her—

The scream ripped through my ears. Then nothing but a blank screen.

Gasping, I looked down to see that the ornament had slipped from my fingers. The crust of rubies shone like a patch of blood upon the wooden planks. My lungs burned with the pressure of each breath, and I could not still the shaking of my limbs. One hand went to the hollow beneath my throat; under the wool, I could feel the small form of the cross. The cross that had belonged to my mother.

The cross that belonged to Lilith.

I had no time to dwell on all else I had learned, for there was yet more to do. I had succeeded in connecting with the demon's mind, but I still did not know where Hux had met her. Where, at this very moment, he might be risking his life at the hands of other Lilin. I had to go farther back, to the events prior to the tower. I remembered a trick Aunt Agnes had taught me: using an image to augment one's intention—in this case, to go backwards in time. Sucking in a breath, I visualized a clock. The hands were spinning backward, counter to time, rewinding to a place of my choosing. I cupped the flower in my palm again.

Shock filled me as I realized it was working. I found myself at another place, another time of the Lilin's existence. I look around me, and, as I do so, I know I am
me
: Abigail Jones. The necklace affixes me to my true self. I am not lost in this vision. I am watching on, directing it. The ballroom is elegant, the crowd rowdy on champagne and dice. The high waistline of the ladies' dresses and the tight breeches worn by the men tell me I have gone too far back in time.

So I think of the clock again, push forward the hands ever so slowly, and picture Hux at the same time. My beloved with his storm-filled eyes, his sensual, wicked smile ...

The scene is one of a pleasure garden. Elbow to elbow, people are jammed everywhere: the men leering and drunk, the women painted and slatternly. Cheap gin, beer, and roasted chestnuts scent the darkness. Strings of lights criss-cross over head, and there is a pavilion, a covered floor where dancers sway suggestively against one and another to the music of a boisterous quartet. Beyond, I see dark paths shaded by rustling trees, grottos where every sort of vice is unfolding.

Where is this place? How can I find its location?

My eyes search the scene and latch onto the gate. I see the name spelled out in curlicues of gilded wrought-iron. Anticipation and relief shake me from the vision, but it does not matter.

I know where I must go.