A Matter of Circumstance and Celludrones (17 page)

Kelan heard and replied ever so softly. “Sannon’s training is
impeccable.”

The stinging in her cheeks burnt red-hot. Of course his dog was
trained.
To annihilate trespassers.
She threw a quick glance over her
shoulder at the earl. His eyes met hers and held until she was obliged to look
away first.

Greyston walked through the gateway first without a break in his step.
Lily couldn’t help herself. She put a hand up in front to feel her way through
the resistance as she passed.

Kelan gave her a thoughtful look. “Which one is yours? Isis or Ana?”

Lily gaped at him. “How could you possibly know about Ana?”

“My uncle’s notes on his celludrones are meticulous, although he
referenced his human subjects only with alphabetic notations.” Kelan paused
briefly as Neco joined them, wolfhound under one arm and hemp bag slung over
his shoulder. “I never had any names to place with each celludrone until now.
If I’d known any of you had survived the explosion, I’d have looked harder.”

Disturbed that this stranger knew anything about her at all, that he
might have come searching for her if he’d known more, Lily backed away, a
little less remorseful about their misdeeds on his property.

Greyston caught her, pulling her firmly to his side. “So you say, and
yet you knew Lily had been assigned a celludrone.”

“One is known by the company one keeps.” He shrugged off Greyston’s
animosity. “Did others survive?”

“Everyone else is dead,” Greyston said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Then why are you continuing with Duncan’s work?”

Kelan gave him a hard look. “I’ve always supported my uncle’s cause,”
he said, starting down the hill. “His methods, however, leave much to be
desired.”

Lily tugged on Greyston’s arm. “I have a feeling he wants more from us
than we want from him.”

“Then we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t get it.” His knuckles came
beneath her chin, tilting her head until their eyes met. “I have no love nor trust
for any McAllister. Neco and I will be on guard.”

They followed the perimeter wall to the main entrance, Greyston and
Neco leading the horses by foot. Kelan had offered to take one, but Greyston
declined the help. Since Neco no longer had a free hand to keep the dog
muzzled, it was back to growling and whining and drowning out any further
attempt at conversation.

Lily experienced the same sludgy resistance when they passed through
the main gate. She watched the dog’s reaction, but he was already causing such
a fuss, she couldn’t tell what effect the force might have had on the poor
animal.

The courtyard had a short drive made of flat stones, lined with
recently planted saplings. Stables were erected along the full length of one
wall. Against the other wall was a series of individual outbuildings that all
looked fairly new and clean. The rest of the courtyard was covered with loose
pebbles and a couple of hardy shrubs.

Kelan took his dog back from Neco, grabbing a fistful of fur and skin
at the neck to guide the beast behind a fenced area. Lily ambled up the drive
as Greyston and Neco tethered the horses to a banister outside the stables.

The rectangular mansion of a house had a flavour reminiscent of
Italian architecture with understated elegance. The flat roof and crenulated
façade gave it the appearance of a traditional castle, but that, and the raw
stone, was as far as the Scottish influence extended. A portico supported by
pillars of the same pale grey stone as the house wrapped around the entire lower
level and formed a balcony for the apartments on the second level.

By the time she reached the steps to the portico, the others had
joined her. Kelan marched ahead to let them in and showed them to a room
immediately to their left. The floor was covered in a plush oriental carpet and
three of the walls were taken up with shelves of leather bound books. A massive
hearth was carved into the fourth wall with a solid mahogany table and two
heavy leather armchairs set in front of it. Various other seating arrangements,
spindle tables, sturdy sofas and squat stand-alone bookshelves were scattered
throughout the extensive area of the Cragloden library.

“Please, sit.” Kelan said, glancing at Lily. “Would you like tea or
something stronger?”

She was about to decline on principle, but the mention of tea seemed
to sap the last bit of moisture from her parched throat. “Tea would be lovely.”

He crossed to the drinks cabinet, where he activated some sort of
speaking device with a twist of a brass knob attached to the wall. “A pot of
tea in the library, thank you. We have guests.” He didn’t wait for a response
before twisting the knob the other way and turning his attention to a crystal
decanter.

Lily perched on the end of the nearest sofa, wondering if a servant
was permanently stationed on the other end of the brass connection, doing
nothing but waiting on his orders.

 
Neco took sentry position near
the door.

Greyston balanced on the padded leather arm of a chair and stretched
his legs out. “You were going to explain how Duncan ended up with the earldom.”

“Ah, yes.” Kelan handed a glass to Greyston before sitting himself
down on the opposite end of Lily’s sofa. “My father relinquished the earldom
when he married my mother and moved his residence to Florence.”

“Why would he do such a thing?”

Kelan eyed him over the rim of his glass as he took a leisurely sip.
“My mother had no tolerance for the inclement weather and nature of Scotland. I
was born in Florence and have lived there most of my life.”

Lily wasn’t sure why Greyston was so interested in ancient McAllister
history (there were more pertinent topics to explore at this very moment) when
Greyston asked suspiciously, “Until the earldom conveniently reverted to you on
your uncle’s death?”

Her spine stiffened.
He thinks Kelan might have something to do
with the explosion.

Kelan didn’t miss the accusation, although his response was the
opposite of hers. She could practically feel the loosening of his muscles as he
settled lower in the cushions and squared one leg over the other. “Let’s put
your brash impertinence and ignorance down to youth and move on, shall we?”

Greyston’s knuckles whitened around his glass.

One more insult and blood would flow.

“My mother was killed in the Cragloden explosion,” she said into the
tense silence. “Do you believe it was an accident?”

“There’s no evidence to suggest otherwise.” Kelan slanted his gaze to
her. “But the coincidence is impossible to ignore.”

“Coincidence?”

“That weekend was the first time all the parties involved in my
uncle’s project came together in the same place. It’s far more likely someone
wanted to ensure he didn’t, and never would, succeed.”

“What was the nature of this project?” demanded Greyston.

Kelan raised a brow at him. “Demons.”

The mettle whooshed from Lily’s bones. If she weren’t already sitting,
she would have crumpled to the floor.

“What the bloody hell have you involved us in?” Greyston sounded as if
he’d pushed the words out through a locked jaw.

“Hell, as you so aptly put it,” Kelan said. “And I didn’t involve you
in anything. That would be my uncle.”

Greyston shot to his feet. “You bastard.”

She didn’t see the glass drop from his hand, but she felt it hit her
shin through the padding of her skirts.

Greyston charged and somehow Kelan made it to his feet before Greyston
reached him. In the split second it took her to check that yes, Neco was
lurching into action, Greyston was on his knees with his head forced back by a
rapier-thin sword pressed to his exposed throat.

Kelan stood over him, the slender hilt of the sword in one hand and
glass of whiskey still in the other, and rattled off a string of foreign words
that could have been Latin or even demon tongue for all she knew. “
Consito.
Coepi. Fracta. Initium. Desino.
”

Approaching from the rear, Neco came to an abrupt halt. At first, she
thought he’d paused to figure out the best way to attack without accidentally
getting Greyston’s throat sliced. But he wasn’t moving at all, not an eyeball
or a limb. He’d frozen in an unnatural, mid-motion pose.

“Is that what the McAllister’s are?” The awkward angle at which
Greyston’s throat was stretched made his voice raspy. “A pack of damnable
demons?”

Despite his precarious situation, he was still spitting fury. Of
course, he wasn’t yet defeated, wasn’t in any position he couldn’t time-run
from if he chose. Why didn’t he? He was one twitch, a mere whim, from death and
he was aggravating the man wielding that sword instead of running.

Lily frantically considered her next move. Any rash action, even a
soft plea called out, might jar Kelan’s concentration and cause that blade to
slip.

“The McAllisters are committed to purging the earth’s surface of
demons,” Kelan said in a low voice. “It’s not possible to kill a demon, not
that we know of, anyway.” He scraped the blade further up Greyston’s throat,
almost to the chin. “The best you can hope for is to evade, trap and banish.”

A subtle knock came at the library door a moment before it opened.
Lily’s gaze darted to the man who slipped inside, bearing a silver tea tray.
His skin had the sun-brushed olive tone of an Italian, his black hair brushed
from his face, and he was fashionably attired in a three-piece suit of dark
grey rather than the black and white customary for a butler.

As the man closed the door quietly behind him, his eyes glazed over
Neco and on to Kelan. “Everything well, m’lord?”

“Just the tea for the lady, thank you, Armand.” Kelan’s gaze stayed on
Greyston, his hand steady on the hilt of the sword, while he continued
seamlessly. “Speed, dexterity, agility, knowledge. These are essential for
survival. I’ve studied and trained since the age of four to fight demons.”

He flexed his wrist and the blade snapped away from Greyston’s throat.
Lily gave a squeak of horror before realising Greyston was safe. The thin sword
had retracted in on itself until only the hilt was visible. Kelan slid the
short hilt inside the lining of his boot.

“Will you take milk or lemon in your tea, m’lady?”

Lily startled at the interruption. The blasted butler was offering her
tea as if nothing untoward was happening in his library. This entire household
was utterly mad. She narrowed her eyes on him in her rudest glare, then rose
from the sofa and turned her back on him.

“Why did my brother have to die?” Greyston came up off his knees,
hands fisted at his side. “Was that for the McAllister
cause
too, or
just an unfortunate symptom of the curse you brought down on us?”

“I don’t have those answers, but you’ve every right to your anger,”
Kelan said. “My uncle should never have involved innocent children in our
fight. What’s done cannot be undone, however, and we can be of great help to
each other.”

“What did he want with Lily and me, with those other children who are
now dead,” Greyston barked. “We know nothing of demons.”

Kelan shrugged. “My uncle believed you’d each manifest certain
abilities that would be of use.”

There was a long moment of silence, the two men staring at each other.
Then Greyston muttered, “We’re leaving,” and spun away toward Lily on the
order, “Release Neco.”

His face was a rigid mask that could have been hiding a veritable host
of emotions, or none at all, but the hand he held out to her was shaking.

“You’re part of this fight now, whether you learn the rules or not,”
Kelan drawled. “Remember this. Protection runes were woven into the foundations
of the original perimeter walls and are still in force. No demon is able to
cross onto our property or penetrate the shield with their powers. Cragloden is
a safe haven, one you’ll have need of sooner or later. Once a demon has your
scent, it never lets go.
Desino. Initium. Fracta. Coepi. Consito.
”

Neco came alive in forward momentum and stopped abruptly, although
this time of his own accord. His gaze bounced between Kelan and Greyston, and
Lily got the distinct impression he’d be scratching his head if he were human.

Chapter Twelve

E
velyn
was determined to pack as much into the remainder of the day as she could fit,
starting with a steaming bath.

Anything to keep her husband out of her head and numb the sting to her
heart. She’d always believed she could take on anything the world threw at her,
but this time there were too many conflicting emotions she didn’t know what to
do with.

The embarrassment of being dragged away from her friends and bundled
into a carriage like a misbehaving child!

The fury at having her explanations and imploring treated with icy
disdain and contempt, as if she weren’t worthy of having a mind of her own.

The hollow, empty throb that had taken its first beat the moment she’d
realised Devon was serious about that ultimatum—that he could so easily give
her up over a difference of opinion as to her hobby choices—and seemed to be
spreading a circle of aching loneliness with every subsequent beat.

The guilt that came on in a blaze of heat whenever she thought on the
way she’d left without so much as a personal note, and that just made her
madder.

The senseless hope that he’d somehow trace her whereabouts and come
after her (this was Devon, after all, his resources were vast), which was
indeed senseless, as she’d refuse to be dragged home even if he did.

All she could do was push back against the oppressive weight bearing
down on her. Evelyn liked to think that almost anything could be achieved with
enough practice, and so she’d just keep on smiling and acting as if she didn’t
give a
flottersnip
about her bloody husband and maybe, just maybe, one
day it would be true.