The Dream (31 page)

He shrugged. “Just remember if you need anything, I’d be glad to assist.”

Jason nodded and watched as the other man weaved his way through the crowd, steering clear of one very loud
Pinkerlie
. Blackmail? He shook his head and thought about his own problems. The large grandfather clock just to right of the entrance showed him they only needed to stay a bit longer.

* * * * *

Theodore slipped into the nursery, wondering how long he’d have. All he needed to do was grab the girl, knock her unconscious and get out.

He hurried through the room, but a shadow by the girl’s bed stopped him.

The nursemaid. He looked into the other room and saw the empty bed.

The woman screamed and rushed at him.

“Help! Help! Joy, run! Help!”

Theodore grabbed the maid, slicing across her neck with one quick swipe. Blood arced, splattering across the silks, across the wall, across the floor. She didn’t even have time to moan.

But she’d screamed. Damn woman, trying to warn the demons, she was.

He stared down at her.

Feet pounded down the corridor.

Something hit the door from the outside.

“Open it!” a voice hollered through the wood.

The little girl huddled at the top of the bed.

“Mary,” he hissed, “come to me now.”

She didn’t move.

“Now!”

He stepped over the woman at his feet and reached for the girl, but she darted to the other side and slid off. He dove across the bed as she yelled, “No! Jack! Jack!”

The door shuddered, splintered.

Theodore snatched as he tumbled off the bed, grabbing her hair. He jerked, her locket snapped and he was left holding the necklace with strands of hair.

He hid on the side of the bed as a man came growling into the room.

“Miss Joy!”

She darted to the demon who snatched her up.

“No,” Theodore rose and fired the pistol. The man jerked, but still darted around the corner.

“No!” Theodore screamed. He had to get out of here, before the other hell fiend came. Theodore dove out the window, the locket still clutched in his hand.

If the demon had her, there was no help for the child. He’d take her to hell.

The night air chilled moisture on his face as he climbed up the railing and scurried along the ledge to another drainpipe. No one was below. He looked back at the balcony and saw the other monster leering at him.

“We’ll find ye, we will,” the monster promised.

Theodore slid down the pipe and fisted the locket in his hand. He had to hurry. Hurry to catch the mother before she found out.

Hurry, hurry, hurry.

He ran through the shadows, until blocks away, he hailed a hackney.

Time to get his wife.

Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

* * * * *

Something was wrong. Emily could feel it. Sickness swirled in her stomach. The heat crushed against her, as were all the bodies. Perfumes mixed together and made the nausea churn again. Emily swallowed.

“Emily, dear, are you feeling all right?” her grandmother asked.

Emily tried to smile. “‘
Tis
the truth I could use some fresh air.”

Her grandmother frowned. Grabbing her hand, Victoria Warring pulled her to her feet. “Come, we’ll go refresh ourselves.” She looked at the other woman there with them. “Elsie, be a dear and let your nephew know we’ll be back in just a bit and that Emily is with me.”

The two women spent minutes traveling across the ballroom. By the time they made it to the staircase, she felt as if weights rested on her chest, strangling her air.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs a footman approached them.

“Lady
Ravensworth
?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve a message from your husband.”

Panic seized her. Had something happened? Is that why she hadn’t seen him?

“What is it?”

He looked from her to her grandmother. “I’m to give it to you privately.”

“Is something the matter?” her grandmother interrupted.

“Not that I know of, my lady,” the footman inclined his head.

“Go on,
Grandmama
, I will find out what this is about and meet you in the lady’s withdrawing room.”

Her grandmother looked her over from head to foot. “If you’re not there in a few minutes, I shall come looking for you. Husband or no.”

Emily smiled.

When the other woman left, Emily turned back to the footman. “Yes?”

“You’re to meet him on the garden terrace. And tell no one.”

She frowned, that was odd. “The garden terrace?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Why would Jason want to meet her alone? Unless he’d learned something and didn’t want anyone else to know. Relief trickled through her racing blood. Perhaps someone had found Theodore and it was over. Or almost over. If they just knew where he was located.

Smiling, she nodded. “Thank you. Which way?”

He pointed her down a hall and through some side doors. Her slippers hushed along the carpeted floors as she hurried to meet Jason.

The room he’d told her to go to was dim, only lit with the fire and a few candles. She darted through it and to the doors that lead out onto the terrace.

Something slithered through her as she opened the door.

Emily paused.

Meet your husband
.

Jason?

Of course. The man had asked for Lady
Ravensworth
.

She took one step out into the night. Silence all but screamed against her ears.

Even the music could not be heard on this side of the house.

“Jason?” she asked, standing just outside the doors.

“Don’t scream or the girl is dead,” his voice hissed across the air.

Emily closed her eyes. Stupid. So stupid. Then his words registered. She whirled around, surprised to find him right beside her.

“Who?” she asked, her gaze raking over him. The same, he was the same. Black clothes, the hair, the face. Though the darkness hid his eyes.

“Our daughter.” He held something up.

The pale light from inside winked off the Joy’s locket. No. She stumbled back.

Joy.

Oh, God.

Amusement chuckled along his words. “Yes, it’s hers. And if you come with me now, without any trouble, she will be safe. But if you so much as look the wrong way, I will make certain she pays for your sins.”

Emily glanced down the terrace one way and then the other.

He slithered closer.

“Why,
Rebeckah
, who were you expecting to meet?” His fingers
vised
around her arm. “You only have one husband, don’t you, my dear?”

Her insides trembled. Please, no.

“Answer me, woman.”

“Y-Yes. Yes. I only have one husband.” She licked her lips, almost tripping as he jerked her along.

Nothing moved behind them. No one suddenly came to her aid out of the shadows. What was she to do? If she yelled would anyone hear in time to help her, or to stop him before he left and harmed Joy? She slipped one of her gloves off, and let it fall as Theodore pulled her down the stone steps and through a back gate. The ivy caught her hair and she twisted to pull it free. If she just had a moment. A hack waited in the alley. She paused. Help?

She glanced back over her shoulder.

Was Joy truly in there?

She couldn’t get in there with him. How would Jason find them? She had to stall him.

Theodore pulled up short. “
Rebeckah
?” he warned, his voice, low and even.

Emily hated that voice.

“You should let Joy go. It’s not Mary. She’s not Mary. She’s
Ravensworth’s
daughter and he’ll stop at nothing to find her. She’s not mine.”

His grip tightened moments before the back of his hand slapped hard against her cheek. Pain burst behind her eye. Emily pitched sideways, but he held her in his grasp.

“Do not
ever
instruct me. I am master. You are no more than a whore. A harlot of Babylon.” The words, heard so many times before, washed through her as he hit her again.

Tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t entice his rage. She knew the power of those fists, of his rages. There was the baby to think about.

Chills iced her veins. “I’m sorry, Theodore. But if you take her, he will hunt the Earth for her.”

Theodore jerked her close. “Shut your mouth and get in the carriage.”

Her knees shook so she didn’t think she could stand, but she climbed in the hackney, tripping and pulling on one of the cords off her gown. She heard the rip of material. Clasping it in her hand, she hurried into the darkened carriage.

The night swallowed them as he shut the door. Her gaze searched the dark interior. “Joy?”

Silence save for their breathing.

There was no one else there.

“Where is Joy?” she whispered.

“Demons,” he chortled.

“Please, Theodore, where is the child?”

He snarled. “I told you, with the demons. Damn things are everywhere. Tried to kill them all, but couldn’t. One got her, took her away. Took the girl to hell.” His words were spoken with that intense conviction of zealots.

Oh, dear God.

Please, please, let Joy be all right. Please let her be safe.

Demons?

Tears filled her eyes and trickled down her face. What evil had she let into their home by her selfish silence?

Jason would find them. He would find them. But until he did, she had to make certain she was safe. After all, she knew from her past, no one would save her from Theodore. No one but herself.

Before she’d been too much of a coward.

Not so now.

“Blood, can’t get the blood off,” he mumbled.

As they passed a street lamp, she saw him wiping his hands on his pants, the backs stained with dark smears. His face looked like something out of her nightmares. Still handsome to many, perfect features, wide full lips, curved cheekbones, and deep set eyes, beneath perfectly arched brows. Yet there were splatters on his face.

Oh dear God, please let Joy be all right. Please let her be all right.

Emily trembled, for she knew the dark marks on his face were same as what was on his hands.

Blood.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jason rubbed the back of his neck. Rayne had shown up late and they were sitting in a corner of a small room. Other men gambled and drank at the various tables. The feeling that something was wrong would not go away.

“Nick is set to sail with the morning tide. He said he was going to probably stay on the ship tonight.”

“Be better if he waited,” Jason muttered.

“Maybe. But we both think this is the right time for the meeting. Also, Sir Taber mentioned he was going to introduce one of the new men to us on the morrow before you depart.”

“A new recruit?” Jason asked.

Rayne shook his head and leaned closer. “Worked the shadows for years. Just a solo player, but apparently wants a more…relaxed stake in the game.”

Jason grunted. “When?”

“In the morning. Nine. At the
Minist
…” Rayne trailed off as the Duke of
Marlington
walked up.

“
Ravensworth
.
Hardlow
.”

“
Marlington
,” they both said.

“I’m about ready to leave myself, but I thought I’d drop you that name I mentioned.”

Rayne hiked a brow and Jason barely shook his head.

“Yes?”

Marlington
looked around and leaned down. “Nightingale.”

Jason blinked. “Nightingale you say?”

“Yes, as in the bird.”

Jason caught Rayne’s wide-eyed stare and managed to smile at
Marlington
. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Marlington
clapped him on the back and bid goodbye to Rayne before leaving.

Neither Rayne nor he spoke a word. Nightingale was a name they both knew well. There were three birds. Raven. Nightingale. Falcon.

“Well, hell,” Rayne muttered.

Jason nodded. “My sentiments exactly. Wonder how the bloody hell that got out?”

Rayne smiled. “We’ll find out.”

Movement in the doorway drew Jason’s attention. Emily’s grandmother stood talking to Aunt Elsie and both looked distraught.

His gut twisted. Jason rose and hurried across the room to her. “Madam?”

“Where is Emily?” Lady
Redgrave
asked.

The prickle along the back of his neck all but stung. “What do you mean, where is she?”

“You had a message for her and she never met up with me. Why you insisted on privacy is beyond me,” she huffed.

“What are you talking about?”

She stepped back, her hand going to her throat. “The footman delivered a message to Emily from you.”

The hell he had. “Which footman?”

She glanced around, ran her gaze this way, then that. Across the ballroom, she pointed one out. “That one. That one over there by the potted palm.”

Chills raced through him as he all but shoved her out of the way. He didn’t care who saw, he tore across the room, dancers scattering in his wake.

He reached out and grabbed the footman by the lapels of his livery.

“What message did you give my wife?” He slammed him up against the wall.

The man paled, his head bobbed.

Someone put their hand on his shoulder. He didn’t turn to see who it was.

“What did you tell her?” he asked, low and furious, feeling the reins on his control slipping.

“
Ravensworth
,”
Kollerton
said.

“
Jase
, people are staring,” Rayne warned.

“I don’t give a bloody damn,” he bit out, his hold on the man tightening, his eyes not wavering from the servant’s gray ones.

“To m-m-meet you-you
ou
-out on the terrace,” the man squeaked.

“Which terrace?” he asked.

The man swallowed. “The-the-the gar-garden one.”

Jason dropped the man and hurried across the ballroom, pushing people out of his way. He could hear the whispers building.

He had to get to her. He had to. He’d promised to keep her safe.

Cold night air washed over him, but the terrace was empty.

“No!” He hit the terrace wall with his fist. “Emily!” he snapped. “
Emmaline
, answer me.” He hurried down the stone steps looking one way then the other. Shadows cloaked the garden and nothing moved. Rayne was right on his heels. The path led to the garden gate, and the alley beyond.

A deep foreboding filled him, made it hard to breathe. He strode along the graveled path, studying everything as he’d been trained to do.

At the gate, he saw the glove lying just outside in the alley, the broken branches of ivy held strands of hair.

He snatched up the glove. Burgundy silk. Emmy.

Fear fisted a hand around his heart in a tight grasp. “Damn it. No.”

He took off down the alleyway, wondering which way they went. Where they were. Thoughts jumbled in his mind and he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the fact he let her down.

He’d sworn to keep her safe, to keep her away from this madman.

A hand on his shoulder spun him around. He almost lost his balance and went down. He came up swinging.

“Damn it,
Jase
. Stop it,” Rayne said, out of breath.

Jason realized they were a block away from the alley. He didn’t remember running this far.

“Stop for a bloody minute. Calm down, we need to think.”

Jason grabbed him. “He’s got her, Rayne. He’s got Emmy. Don’t tell me to calm down.”

Rayne’s hands came up, palms out. “Fine, I won’t tell you that. Could you set me the hell down?”

For a moment the two of them glared at each other. Finally, Jason let go, turned and stalked back down the alley to the
Kollerton’s
. Sheldon met them at the gate.

“There’s a man here to see you,
Ravensworth
. He’s in the study.”

Jason hurried with him, met Lord
Kollerton
at the terrace. He strode past the curious onlookers without so much as a glance in their direction.

“I want to know everything about the carriages in that alley tonight,” he said to Sheldon.

Those blue-ice eyes narrowed. “I’ll find out for you.”

He followed Lord
Kollerton
to the man’s study. “This man is here to see you.”

Lockley
stood with a bandage pressed to his head. “My lord.” His complexion was ashen.

The bottom dropped out of Jason’s stomach. Home. Joy. Oh, God.

“You’ve got to come home, immediately,”
Lockley
said.

Jason made his feet move across the floor. “What happened?”

He felt Rayne standing next to him and knew that
Kollerton
, Sheldon and some other men were also in the room.

Lockley
trembled. “He got in, my lord. The blood. God, the blood.”
Lockley
looked down and swayed.

Jason reached out. “Joy.” He swallowed.

Lockley’s
gaze rose to his and in those eyes, Jason knew true panic.

“No,” he strangled out.

Blood. Joy.

“No!” he repeated.

Lockley
swallowed, tears in his aged eyes. “We can’t find her. Looked everywhere.”

The rage he’d been holding at bay, roared to life, engulfing even the helpless fear. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. He fisted his hands, flexed his fingers. Fisted them again.

“
Jase
.”

Without a word, he turned and strode from the room. His footfalls echoing against the roar in his ears. The faces a blur, a haze around him.

“Jason, wait.”

He kept going.

“Jason!” Rayne caught up with him.

He didn’t say a word, couldn’t even if he had wanted to.

Damn it all to hell and back. He’d failed in the one and only thing he’d ever sworn to her. He’d keep her safe. Keep their daughter safe. The sharp fangs of terror sank deep into his chest.

“I’ll call for the carriage,” Rayne muttered, hurrying out ahead of Jason.

“Where do I send any information?” Sheldon asked, striding along side him.

The question made him pause. He blinked, tried to think. “I don’t know. My house, I suppose. I don’t know.”

Sheldon nodded. “I’ll get in touch with you later.”

Lord
Kollerton
stepped up. “
Ravensworth
, if there is anything we can do.”

Jason shook his head, but said, “Help me find my wife and daughter.”

* * * * *

Theodore watched the woman across from him in the low lights that drifted in from outside.

She’d changed little, was still beautiful. Too beautiful. Her beauty was the curse of the wicked. The outer shell deceived those to what lay within.

Her back was straight and she looked down at her lap, as he’d taught her to do.

Was she trying to please him or plotting to escape?

“Why did you give my child and lands away?” he asked, the anger eating at him.

She jerked.

Good.

“I-I— They told me you were dead. Killed in an Indian raid on the fort,” she said, her voice low and soft. “I couldn’t handle both farms by myself. It was too much, Theodore.” She gulped. “I tried. I did.”

But he knew it was an act.

He eased forward on his cushion and tilted her chin up. “I’ve a surprise for you, wife. We’ll be in at an inn for a bit, but then we’re sailing with the morning tide.”

Her face paled. “Sailing?”

He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Sailing. Yes.”

“Where?” she asked.

He studied her, saw the snakes slithering behind her eyes.

“Where?” he shouted in her face. “Why would you want to know? So that you could let your lover know?” He struck her across the face. Once, twice, three times until she whimpered.

He jutted his jaw out, then back in. About time she remembered who ruled their home and who the master, the only master, would ever be between them. God saw to it that he’d found her, brought her back, and he’d make certain she remembered her place.

Yes, he was in the right.

Her hand held the side of her face, her hair, fallen covered her from him.

That harlot’s hair. He should cut it. It had always been a vain point for her, and vanity was not a virtue in anyone, let alone a woman.

He fisted it in his hand, wrapping it around and around. “I think the first thing I’ll do is cut this mass of wantonness.”

Her eyes wouldn’t meet his and he heard her sniff.

The carriage finally pulled to a stop. The stench from the Thames filled the air, fish from the market, gone sour during the day, and too many people living in squalor melded into the perfume of the slums.

He reached under his seat and pulled out the tattered brown, woolen cloak he’d stuffed there earlier. It still had demons’ blood on it. But she was a whore of Satan, so it really shouldn’t matter, should it?

Or would the blood taint her further?

The driver shouted down. “
Ye’re
‘ere, cove. Times a
wastin
’ and
I’s
gots
other blokes to carry ‘round.”

Theodore decided it was better for her to use the bloody cloak to cover that slut gown she had on, than to worry about the evilness infecting her. After all, she was already lost.

“Put this on,” he ordered. “And hurry up. The sinners here will as soon rob us once they see you in your wicked clothing.”

He opened the door and climbed out. After several moments, he snapped, “Get out.”

Her pale hand trembled as she reached for the doorframe of the carriage. Theodore reached up and jerked her down.

“Where is your glove?” he asked, pulling her with him.

“What?” she asked.

“Your glove. You don’t have one on.”

He watched her lick her lips. “I don’t know. I don’t. I was taking them off when I met you on the terrace. I-I-I must have dropped it.”

In the dank and dreary street, he pulled her close to him. From the light of the tavern, he could see her face was already swelling. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and from her nose and there was a cut across her cheek. Good.

“You’re lying. You remember what happens when you lie,
Rebeckah
?” He pulled her with him. Past Fish Head’s Tavern, down the street to The Cuckold Inn.

She pulled on his hand. “Please, Theodore.”

He jerked. “Appropriate, isn’t it?” Making certain she was covered with the ugly old cloak, he opened the door, stepping aside as a man staggered out of the door, a woman, almost bare-breasted clung to his arm.

“
Beggin
’
yer
pardon,” the woman muttered, grazing his arm with her ample bosom.

“Be gone, whore!”

The other man bowed up. “Watch
yer
moush
, ‘
ister
. Wister… Mister!”

Drunks and sluts abounded. It was like glimpsing into the gates of Hell.

He pulled
Rebeckah
along with him, past the common room, up the rickety stairs to the room he’d rented. He only needed to pack and see to her. They’d be leaving in a few hours anyway.

The door shuddered when he slammed it. The walls would be thin, but then, women often screamed in this part of London and no one ran to help them. He was counting on that to hold true.

Interruption would be a hindrance he would not tolerate.

“First thing,” he growled, spinning her around, “is to get these wicked clothes off of you. A woman shall dress with modesty.” He ripped the cloak aside, her pale breasts plumped against the top ruffle.

“Whore.” He slapped her again, anger raging through him. The black wings descended. The demons were here. He would save her. He grabbed the middle of the gown and ripped it off her. He would save her.

“Theodore. Please.” Her hands came up to ward him off. “Wait. Just let me explain.”

* * * * *

Jason didn’t wait for the carriage to stop, but jumped to the street as it pulled up in front of his town house.

The place was ablaze with lights.

Men in the watch uniform stood outside, neighbors loitered about. Jason shoved through the crowd and took the stairs two at a time into the house.

“My lord!” Summerton yelled, coming to him. Jason spared him a glance, noticed the white bandage around his head and the man standing beside his butler—Sir Taber.