Playing With Fire (16 page)

How did I look at Jack?

"Uncle may not be quite so understanding," she went on. "He certainly wants no familiarity of any kind between us and the servants. He doesn't even like Jack and Tommy being friends, so they pretend otherwise when they're in Uncle's company."

"Yet he's always telling you not to think of yourselves as being of lesser value than others. I thought he was quite egalitarian."

"Perhaps only in theory."

Or perhaps only when it worked in his favor. He may consider himself and his family equal to Lord Wade for example, but those lower on the social ladder could not, and should not, think of themselves as higher.

"I see," I said. "Thank you for the warning, Sylvia. I'll be more careful next time."

"No! There will be no next time. Understand? Now, let's prop ourselves at a window where we can see the trench. Jack may not want anyone to go with him, but we can keep watch anyway."

I liked her idea so settled beside her on the window seat in her bedroom. If we angled ourselves just right, we could see the trench. We were only there a few minutes when Jack emerged and made his way not to the house, but to the lake.

"What's he doing?" Sylvia asked.

"Going for a swim," I said.

Jack did indeed remove his shoes and waistcoat and walk into the shallows. When he was thigh-deep, he dove under and swam off. He moved through the water with easy grace and reached the other bank quickly then swam back again. He got out, dripping wet. His shirt clung to the contours of muscle on his chest and stomach. The material was see-through when wet too. Quite, quite see-through.

"Hannah, are you all right? You just made a strange gurgling sound."

I coughed. "Did I?"

"Let's meet him at the door. I'm dying to know what he learned."

So was I, but I remained at the window for a few more moments, watching him cross the lawn to the house. He scanned the vicinity, as did I, but the demon didn't appear.

I didn't let out my pent-up breath until he rounded the side of the house to enter via the front door. I got up to follow Sylvia downstairs when a movement in the direction of the woods caught my eye.

A small person ran out of the dense trees so fast its legs were a blur. No, not a person.

The demon. And it was heading for Jack.

CHAPTER 9

I picked up my skirts and ran down the stairs. "Let him in! The demon is coming!"

Sylvia was ahead, but not yet at the door. I could hear footsteps drumming on the stairs behind me. Samuel.

"Open the door!" I shouted at Sylvia.

The door flew open and crashed back on its hinges before she got to it. Jack charged through and slammed it shut, just as the demon hit it from the other side. The door shook, but held, thank God.

I raced to him. He caught me in his arms, lifting me off the ground.

A violent shock drove us apart just as quickly, but at least I had that fleeting moment of feeling his arms around me, telling me without words that he was all right and he was glad to see me too. It was only a moment, but it was something and it was ours. I rubbed my arms, now damp too, but it did nothing to ease my twitching muscles or the heat swamping me.

"Did it get you?" Tommy asked, grasping Jack by the shoulders and inspecting him. I don't know when he'd arrived, but he and Samuel were both there. Bollard wheeled Langley in too, just as the demon slammed against the door again.

Sylvia screamed.

"Stop that," Langley snapped at her. "You'll frighten the servants."

I suspected the servants would already be terrified if they'd seen that thing running out of the woods. No animal looked like a short, naked, malformed human. It was going to be hard to convince them they'd seen a wild dog.

The demon snarled and growled just beyond the door. Then it did the oddest thing. The growling stopped, and it whimpered like a child.

"In," the small voice cried. "Let in."

"Oh God," Sylvia crouched down next to her uncle's chair, her hands at her throat. "Is there someone out there with it?"

"I doubt it," Jack said, eyeing the door. Water dripped off his hair and clothes, forming a puddle on the tiles at his bare feet. He didn't seem to notice.

"Perhaps it's using the voices of the spirits it consumed to trick us," Samuel said.

Or perhaps the little ghost children wanted to get away from the demon just as much as we did. A shiver slithered down my spine, pushing the heat out of me. I hugged myself and edged closer to Sylvia and Langley.

"Why is it here?" Sylvia wailed. "What does it want?"

"Perhaps it's hungry," Jack said.

"I thought there was enough deer and other wildlife in the woods to keep it satisfied," I said.

The demon slammed against the door again. Wood splintered near the hinge.

"Get back!" Langley shouted. "Away from the door. Now!"

We did, just as the demon threw itself against the thick wood again. How much longer would the door hold up?

Sylvia began to sob. "
Do
something."

"Your fire," Tommy said to Jack.

He nodded, grim. "I can't open the door. There's a chance it'll get in before I can summon the flames." He looked at the windows on either side of the door, but dismissed those for the same reason. "I have to approach it from behind."

"That means going out again," I said. I didn't try to stop him. No one did. He had to go and there was nothing else to be done. He'd be all right. He had his fire.

But fire couldn't kill it, only scare it. My stomach churned and my heart thudded violently. Sylvia stepped up beside me and held my hand.

Jack gave us a nod then disappeared down one of the corridors that led to the service area. He would slip out that way and circle around.

Only he never got the chance.

The crack of a gunshot ripped through the air. It seemed to bounce off the hills and trees and reverberate through the house. We looked at one another, faces frozen in shock.

Jack came running back in. "Where did that come from?" he said, his gaze sweeping across all of us to reassure himself that we were unharmed.

"It sounded like a rifle," Samuel said.

"The demon's running away." Tommy pointed through the window where the creature could be seen sprinting back into the woods.

Sylvia gave a little whimper of relief.

Jack opened the door and stepped onto the porch, Tommy and Samuel at his heels. "I thought Culvert said a bullet couldn't kill it," Samuel said.

"It was probably scared off by the noise," Jack said. "As with the fire. It seems afraid of the flames."

"Whatever happened, we've got somebody to thank."

"But who?" Sylvia tried to peer past the men, but they were all too tall. "Have the Beauforts returned?"

"There!" Tommy pointed. "Coming up the driveway on horseback."

"Bloody hell," Jack muttered. "What's he doing here?"

"Who is it?" Langley asked.

"Weeks."

"The policeman?" Sylvia and I said together.

The men moved aside and we saw Weeks and a uniformed constable ride up and dismount. Weeks touched the brim of his hat and greeted us. The constable glanced nervously toward the woods. He still held a rifle, and I suspected it was loaded.

"Well," Weeks said, puffing out his narrow chest. He looked like he enjoyed being the hero of the moment. "I'd wager you're glad to see me."

"Why?" Langley said. "Did you fire the weapon or did your constable?"

Weeks deflated and removed his hat. I felt a little sorry for him. He may not have fired the weapon, but he'd at least told his man to arm himself. He deserved some thanks. "Right you are, Mr. Langley, sir. I'm only sorry he missed." He shot a glare at the constable, but the fellow was too busy watching the woods to notice.

"You aimed at it?" Samuel said. "Are you mad? You could have hit one of us through the window."

The constable flushed and stammered an apology.

"Next time, shoot into the sky," Jack said. "That'll send it running without risking lives."

"No offence, sir," Weeks said, "but we want to kill it, not let it run away. And anyways, are you sure it was a dog? Only I've never seen one that walked on two feet and had no fur."

Samuel scrubbed his hand over his face. He looked resigned and perhaps even a little sad. "Look at me, Inspector Weeks." His voice was honey-thick. "Look at my eyes and listen to my voice." Weeks' eyes became very round and he stared at Samuel. "It was a dog." Samuel clicked his fingers and Weeks blinked.

"Yes, it was a dog," the inspector echoed. "Of course it was."

Good lord! Had Samuel just hypnotized Weeks and implanted the suggestion into his head? Remarkable! He'd done it without the aid of a swaying object or any visible effort on his part. I was quite impressed, yet Samuel seemed troubled by what he'd done.

Sylvia and I exchanged glances. She suddenly looked a little uncertain about Samuel and his ability, even though it wasn't news to her. Samuel hadn't hypnotized a single member of the household since his arrival, and it was easy to forget that he had the ability. The only hypnosis I'd seen him perform was the one on me in London. No one else had been in the room with me then. Sylvia and Jack had not witnessed a hypnotism before. Whatever Jack thought of it, he kept his opinion closely guarded behind his hooded eyes.

"Might I come in?" Weeks asked. "Not sure I like standing out here with that dog wandering about." We stepped aside and the policemen entered. "You're wet," he said to Jack.

"I believe I am."

"But it's not raining."

"I know."

"Uh, the horses," I said before Weeks could question him further. "You can't leave them unguarded. What if it comes back?"

"Constable Jones here will keep watch," Weeks said.

Constable Jones swallowed heavily. I couldn't tell if he'd been hypnotized too. He gave no sign that he doubted the wild dog story. Weeks patted him on the shoulder then shoved him back out through the door.

"I'll fetch a gun and join you," Tommy offered.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Sylvia said. When we all looked at her, she shrugged. "Who will serve the tea?"

"Mrs. Moore," Tommy offered.

"Stay where you are, Tommy," Langley growled. "The inspector won't be staying for tea. State your business and be off, Weeks. We're very busy."

I felt quite embarrassed by his poor manners. Weeks may be an incompetent fool, but there was no need to be rude. Besides, we should be grateful that Weeks and his man had just scared off the demon. He must have something important to report, or he wouldn't have risked coming at all.

"Please step into the parlor where it's more comfortable," I said, ignoring Langley's glare. "We'd very much like to hear what you have to say."

"Uh, no thank you, Miss Smith." Weeks clutched his hat and cast an anxious glance at Langley. "I'm quite all right here. What I have to say won't take long."

"Go on then." Jack sounded gruff and impatient. With all the commotion and the visitors, I'd almost forgotten that he'd just come from the trench and dungeon. I hoped he'd found something useful that we could pass on to Mr. Culvert.

"Have you found Mr. Tate?" Sylvia asked. "His man paid us a visit last night and the sooner you can—"

"Paid you a visit?" Weeks turned to me. "I see he did not take Miss Smith."

"He tried, but I'm quite all right, thank you. A little tired today from the ordeal, but otherwise unharmed. You haven't caught him, have you?"

"No, ma'am, I regret that we haven't seen him. You didn't happen to see which direction his man ran off in?"

"Down the drive," Jack said.

Weeks's small eyes screwed up in thought until they almost disappeared in the surrounding wrinkles. "He could be anywhere."

Langley sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Then how about you send some men to look for him. You know he's in the vicinity now."

Jack shot him a warning glare and half shook his head. No doubt he thought it a bad idea to send policemen after Tate now that we suspected Ham was a demon. I tended to agree with him. As much as I wanted to have the police assisting us, it was dangerous for them, and I wouldn't be happy knowing lives were being jeopardized because of me. I was the one Tate wanted, but he seemed prepared to do anything to get me. Including ordering Ham to kill those who tried to stop him.

"We'll do our best with our limited resources, sir," Weeks said. "In the meantime, let me know immediately if he comes here again. I'd set up a watch, but you seem to have enough strong fellows to help, and what with that wild dog on the loose…" He coughed and looked away, clearly unenthusiastic about providing men.

Langley grunted. "What is it you want, Weeks?"

"I wanted to ask you, sirs, if you knew where we could find Mr. Tate's associates? One of them may know where Tate is hiding."

"We told you last time," Langley said. "We don't know anyone who knows him."

"What about his staff?"

"We only know of Ham."

"What about household staff? Sometimes people like you, sir, don't notice the servants, but a footmen or maid can hear and see a lot that goes on in a house."

"His housekeeper!" I said. "She opened the door for us that day. Has no one spoken to her, Inspector?"

He removed a notebook from his inside coat pocket and flipped the pages. "Let's see, the only member of staff interviewed by Scotland Yard was a Mrs. Dodd. Is that her?"

Langley sucked air through his teeth.

"Sir?" Weeks prompted. "Do you know her?"

Langley gave a brief shake of his head and waved the inspector's question away.

"Miss Smith?" Weeks said to me. "Was she the housekeeper?"

"I don't know," I said.

"Must be her. It says housekeeper here. Did you see no one else while you were there?"

"No," Sylvia said and I shook my head too.

"If Mrs. Dodd has already been interviewed, why the need to speak to others?" Jack asked.

"Because she was interviewed
before
Tate's escape, not after."

"Why not after?"

"They tried, but she'd moved on and they couldn't locate her."