Bloodline (Whyborne & Griffin Book 5) (10 page)

A worm of guilt squirmed unpleasantly in my chest. “Er,
Griffin doesn’t know I wrote you. He has an irrational fear of sorcery,
and…well.”

“Ah.” Theo’s blue eyes gleamed with amusement. “We shall
simply have to be discreet, then.”

It sounded as if we were conducting an illicit affair,
although of course he meant nothing of the sort. “Y-yes,” I stammered. “Would
you care to sit down?”

He took the guest chair, leaning forward, folding his hands
primly atop one knee. “Now. How can I help?”

I’d brought the odd stone in with me this morning. Griffin
had placed it within a locked box at home, just in case. I hadn’t felt anything
more from it, but there was no sense in taking unnecessary risks.

“We found this in Guinevere’s things,” I said, unlocking the
box. “It seems to have arcane properties—it influenced my mind when first
uncovered.”

“I will guard myself mentally, then.”

I carefully opened the box and unwrapped the stone. I could
still hear its siren song, tugging at me on some deep level, but my mental
preparation allowed me to disregard it. Theo frowned and picked it up, careful
to keep the silk wrapping between his fingers and its surface. “Interesting.
It’s definitely enchanted.”

“Can you guess what it might be?”

“No.” He re-wrapped it carefully, and the faint singing vanished
from my mind. “I haven’t seen anything like it before. If only we were back in
England, where I could ask other members of the family, or at least have access
to the estate library.”

I locked the stone into the box and put it away again, in
exchange for the strange bracelet. “What about this?”

“I’m not certain. It seems vaguely familiar, but I can’t
place it.”

“We found the bracelet in Guinevere’s possession.” I took
out the gold plaque and laid it on the desk. “And this aboard the
Norfolk
Siren
last night.”

“It looks as if it was torn from something,” Theo
speculated, fingering the bit of gold netting clinging to the back. “And it’s
clearly of the same design.”

“Yes.” I hesitated, but if what the twins had told us was
true, he ought to be used to the idea of monsters stalking the edges of
everyday reality. “There’s something else. I saw a creature in the cemetery
when we laid Guinevere in the crypt.”

I described the thing as best I could, which wasn’t very
good at all, in truth. I also told him of the note from the bartender, with the
strange phrase that echoed Guinevere’s final words.

Theo shook his head slowly. “I haven’t the slightest idea
what it could mean, although the reference to the sea does suggest a connection
with the creature you saw.” He handed back bracelet and plaque. “I take it from
your note the library has a number of books which might be useful for
research?”

“Yes. As you know sorcery and languages, I thought you’d be
interested in helping?”

A grin stole over his face. “A chance to fondle old books I
might never see anywhere else? You’ll have to tie me to this chair to stop me.”

“This is…have I died and gone to the dark fields?” Theo
asked, gazing about the library with wide eyes.

I might not be entirely certain what the dark fields
were—my religious education was rather lacking—but there was no
mistaking the sentiment in his voice. “Even better—you can visit while
still alive,” I replied. “And this is only a small portion. The library is a
labyrinth of sorts, and just when you think you’ve reached the end, whole new
rooms open up.”

We stood at the entrance of the library, not far from the
main desk. As usual, Mr. Quinn, the head librarian, lurked about. Upon spotting
us, he drifted forward from a space between the nearest stacks. With his black
suit and dark hair slicked back with oil, he looked more like an undertaker
than a librarian. Silvery eyes peered at us unblinkingly.

“You’ve brought a guest, Dr. Whyborne,” Quinn observed in a
sepulchral voice.

“Er, yes.” Conversing with Quinn always made me nervous. I
felt as if I never knew what he might say next, or what he might expect from me
in return. “This is Mr. Theodore Endicott, a distant cousin of mine, visiting
from England. He’s here to help me with some research. Theo, this is Mr. Quinn,
our head librarian.”

“A pleasure,” Theo said, holding out his hand. Quinn looked
at it as if he’d never seen a human appendage before. After a moment, Theo let
his drop.

“Can I be of assistance, Dr. Whyborne?” Quinn asked. His
spidery fingers flexed and knotted around one another in a disturbing manner.

I gave him a list of books I thought might be useful and
told him where in the library to bring them. Theo’s eyes grew wide as I named
them. Once Mr. Quinn drifted away, summoning an assistant librarian to help
with those kept under lock and key, he said, “I recognize some of those titles.
Do you mean to say they’re just kept here, at the public museum? Where anyone
could read them?”

“Not anyone,” I assured him hastily. “The staff, yes, but
visiting scholars have to offer some evidence they have a serious reason before
being allowed access to the library.”

“Still, it doesn’t seem very safe. What’s to stop some
nefarious sorcerer from gaining access and using them to his own ends?”

I wanted to reassure Theo such a thing couldn’t possibly
happen. But a moment’s reflection convinced me Mr. Quinn would probably find an
interest in the dark arts a compelling reason to allow access to the library,
rather than forbid it. “It hasn’t been a problem so far,” I said lamely. “Would
you like to hear the library’s history?”

Fortunately, this distracted him. “Please.”

“The museum’s architect died in a madhouse,” I said as I
preceded him into the stacks. “It’s said the library was the final part of the
plan he drew up, and it either reflects his descent into madness, or else drove
him to it. At any rate, the librarians are a…well.
Interesting
bunch.”

“So I see,” he said.

I led the way to one of the smaller rooms within the
convoluted maze, which contained several of the volumes I hoped might prove of
assistance. “I studied some of these while attempting to identify the Eyes of
Nodens and their god,” I explained to Theo as we walked. “As we are
investigating disappearing ships, I thought they might be a good starting
point. There may be relevant lore I either forgot or simply didn’t recognize
the importance of the first time.”

“A good suggestion,” he said. “I would have done
the—dear heavens! Is this the 1839 edition of
Nameless Cults?
”

I eyed the book, which was chained to a reading desk, with a
certain amount of pride. “It is. The Ladysmith spares no expense when it comes
to research.”

Theo gazed at the books Mr. Quinn’s assistant delivered to
our table. “The
Al Azif—
and in the original Arabic! I’ve always wanted
to see it.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Not even my old university had a
copy in anything but Latin. The first time I saw it here in the library…”

“An antiquarian’s dream,” Theo said, meeting my eyes in
perfect understanding. “Our family has what I thought to be an extensive
collection of old volumes, but nothing like this.”

I gestured at the pile of books. “Then shall we begin?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

~ * ~

I’d expected the afternoon to prove awkward, despite our
good beginning. I seldom worked with others, and generally found it not to my
taste. Theo, however, turned out to be a boon. He never interrupted my studies
for anything other than a find of genuine interest, or an intelligent question.
One such led to a spirited debate on medieval Aklo as applied to alchemy, and
whether alchemy and sorcery were truly separate or merely two parts of the a
whole.

“Not to suggest you need further instruction,” Theo said
diffidently, “but if you wished to study the arcane with like-minded persons,
you could visit Fiona and me. It would truly be our pleasure. And Fiona would
love to show off her alchemy laboratory to someone.”

I opened my mouth to happily accept his invitation, but the
image of Griffin’s disapproving glare imposed itself on my mind. What would he
say, if I said I’d decided to study sorcery with my cousins?

I could imagine all too easily. “I can’t,” I said, shoulders
slumping in disappointment. “As you gathered last night, Griffin doesn’t really
approve of sorcery.”

Theo cocked his head to the side curiously. “And does his
approval matter so much to you?”

How to explain without betraying the true nature of our
relationship? “Griffin is my closest companion.” That sounded innocent enough,
didn’t it? “As such, his approval is important to me.”

“Not so important it kept you from summoning me here,” Theo
noted.

Damn the man. “He’s also my landlord,” I hedged.

“And a comparative philologist at the museum isn’t paid well
enough to find other lodgings?” he countered.

Had I a wife and children depending on my salary, I might
have argued. As it was, I had no real excuse. “I’m sorry. I simply can’t.”

“Very well. But the invitation remains open.” Theo took out
his watch. “It’s after closing time—I suppose we’d best finish up.”

The hour surprised me—the time had flown by in his
company. I summoned an assistant, and the books kept locked up were whisked
away. Not without a longing look from Theo.

“They’ll be here tomorrow,” I assured him with a smile as I
gathered my notes.

“Then so will I.” He made a small bow. “I don’t suppose
you—”

“Whyborne?” Griffin asked.

I froze guiltily, hands hovering over my papers. Griffin
stood in the doorway recently vacated by the assistant, wearing one of his
better suits, his silver-headed cane in his hand. His emerald eyes moved from
me to Theo and back again.

“Griffin,” I said stupidly. “What are you doing here?”

His gaze narrowed. “I came to see if you wished to dine with
me. I thought we could discuss the case. But obviously, you’ve been doing that
already.”

Theo stepped toward the doorway. “I’ll just show myself out,
shall I?”

“I’ll see you later,” I said, but I aimed the words at
Griffin.

Theo’s hasty footsteps receded. I finished gathering my
papers and swept out after him. Griffin followed on my heels.

To his credit, he held his tongue until we reached my
office. Then again, it wasn’t always wise for us to quarrel in public. As I put
the papers down on my desk, he shut the door behind us and threw the lock.

“Are you going to tell me what Mr. Endicott was doing here?”

I turned to face him, leaning back against my desk, arms
folded over my chest. “What do you think? He was helping me research the
jewelry we found.”

“I thought Dr. Gerritson was helping you.”

“Given the plaque we discovered last night, I suspected
there might be a connection to a sea cult, or something of the sort.” As he
opened his mouth to object, I let my arms fall to my sides and stood straight.
“Curse it, Griffin, my sister is
dead.
If Theodore and Fiona can help us
find out who killed her and why, I’m not going to turn them down.”

Griffin’s expression softened as my words sank in. “I…you’re
right. I hadn’t thought of it in such a way.” He shuffled his feet. “Still, I
can’t say I like how Theodore looks at you.”

Looked at me? I hadn’t noticed anything amiss. “What do you
mean?”

“Like you’re a dessert he can’t wait to try.”

I burst out laughing at the sheer absurdity of it. “Now
you’re being foolish.”

“Am I?”

I moved toward him. He arched a brow, but said nothing as I
leaned against him. My greater height allowed me to trap him against the door,
pressing him back into the wood. He tilted his head back, and I kissed him.

Lips parted eagerly beneath mine, and I slid my tongue into
him. His mouth tasted faintly of mint. He returned the kiss, lips caressing
mine, tongues swirling together in a complicated dance of desire. Teeth nipped
lightly at my lower lip when I withdrew. “Yes,” I murmured. “You are. It’s just
scholarly zeal.”

Griffin’s hand slipped between us, fondling me through the
cloth of my trousers. “Oh, is that what this is?”

I pushed against him, felt the hard line of his erection
against my thigh as I slid it between his. “No,” I growled. “This is lust.”

A groan of desire escaped him. I captured it with my mouth;
even though most of my colleagues had left, there were still guards and
janitorial staff about. We fumbled with each other’s buttons; I managed to get
his free first, and slid my hand down inside his clothing, wrapping my fingers
around the hard heat I found there.

Then his hand closed around me, and I was the one whose
moans had to be stifled. I leaned against him, pressing him back against the
door, as we tugged and jerked and rutted against each other. It was chaotic and
messy and incredible, heat building quickly. I couldn’t seem to catch enough breath,
barely daring to take my mouth from his, lest our gasps be heard. His fingers
tightened around my length, and I thrust against his grip until excitement and
pleasure turned suddenly into searing ecstasy.

Still half-blind and barely able to think coherently, I
dropped to my knees and guided his cock into my mouth. His fingers, slick with
my spend, clutched at my hair. I let him use my mouth as he wished, and he
thrust deep once, twice, thrice, before stiffening. I swallowed around him,
felt him shudder as I sucked everything I could out of him.

He sighed and caressed my hair, then drew his hand back
sharply. “Curse it—I’ve made quite the mess of you.”

“Nothing the washroom won’t put to rights.” I took out a
handkerchief and cleaned myself before tucking my clothes back into order.
While he did the same, I slipped out to the men’s washroom. Fortunately, I
didn’t encounter anyone on the way there, for the mirror revealed a flushed
face and swollen lips. No to mention questionably damp hair.

When I had put myself as much to rights as possible, I
stepped out and found him waiting for me in the corridor, a satisfied grin on
his mouth. “I had thought to take you to dinner,” he said. “Shall we count this
as an appetizer?”

“You’re terrible.” As there was no one else in the hall and
no sound of footsteps, I chanced giving him a swift kiss.

We strolled out together, both our moods greatly improved.
But as we descended the steps to the sidewalk outside, Father’s motor car
pulled up to the curb, with Fenton at the wheel.

“Master Percival,” he said, clambering out. If anything, he
looked even worse than he had before. Dread set my nerves on edge—surely
he wouldn’t have come here unless something dire had happened.

“Mother?” I blurted out my worst fear.

“No.” He shook his head, face gray. “It’s Miss Emily. She’s
been murdered.”

~ * ~

A short time later, Fenton stopped the motor car in front of
the Widdershins city morgue. The car’s seat was too small for three people, so I’d
spent the ride over with Griffin balanced on my knees, my mind spinning.

Miss Emily couldn’t be dead—there had to be some
mistake. What had Fenton said earlier? She’d taken the day off to visit family?
Surely she was with them, and this body belonged to some other unfortunate
woman.

Griffin climbed out of the motor car and turned to help me
down. Our hair was in even more disarray than before from the wind.

“Shall I wait here?” Fenton asked. “I’ve…already seen the
body.”

“How was she found?” Griffin asked.

Fenton’s mouth tightened slightly, as though he didn’t care
to be directly addressed by Griffin. But he said, “Her daughter grew worried
when she didn’t come for a planned visit last night. She waited until this
morning, thinking perhaps Miss Emily had been detained by some business at
Whyborne House and forgotten to send word. When neither word nor Miss Emily
appeared, she came to the house in search of her mother. Mr. Whyborne was
concerned, and sent me to the police station with her to make inquiries.” He
paused, throat working, as if he swallowed against some obstruction. “There we
learned a woman fitting Miss Emily’s description had been found dead in the
early hours of the morning and sent to the morgue.”

The words floated past me, almost meaningless. “Wh-why is
she still here?”

“Your father thought it might be useful for you to view the
body and speak to the medical examiner. She was found not far from where Lady
Gravenwold died.”

God. I swayed on my feet, and Griffin put his hand to my
elbow. “Steady, my dear. I’ll go inside, and you wait here with Mr. Fenton.”

“No.” I’d never forgive my cowardice if I did such a thing.
Making an effort to stand straight, I told Fenton, “You may return home. Tell
Father we’ll send word as soon as we know anything.”

Fenton touched his cap. “Very good, Master Percival.”