Bloodline (Whyborne & Griffin Book 5) (18 page)

There came the crack of a revolver. I couldn’t
breathe—who had fired the shot? Had Griffin reached his weapon in time?

The thuggish man who had broken down the door stepped into
the hall.

~ * ~

Time slowed to a crawl, each second like an ant trapped in
treacle. They’d killed Guinevere and Miss Emily, and threatened Mother, and, oh
God, not Griffin, not him, anyone but him.

No rational thought existed, only terror and rage, and the
rivers of power crawling beneath Widdershins. My throat ached, and belatedly I
realized I’d screamed Griffin’s name, but everything felt very far away.

Wind shrieked through the house, ripping pictures off the
wall, sending my hat flying from its hook out the open door, battering down the
man in the hall. I would kill him.

I’d kill them all.

I’d slay every hybrid abomination in this town, then take a
boat to the ketoi city and dive deep, rip their hearts out from their
ribs—

A heavy weight struck my back, knocking me to the floor. The
revolver roared a second time, and the weight on me jerked away.

Then I was blinking in confusion, as the ketoi and hybrid
fled out the door, both trailing blood. Griffin stood in the doorway to the
parlor, his face grim and his smoking revolver in his hand.

I lurched to my feet with a cry. Griffin ran to the door,
peered outside for a moment, then slammed it shut and jammed the umbrella stand
beneath the knob. “Are you all right, Ival?” he asked.

My head felt light, my chest full of air. I grabbed him, his
arms solid beneath my fingers, and pushed him back against the wall. His eyes
widened in surprise.

“I thought they’d killed you,” I said raggedly. Then I
kissed him, desperate to erase the terrible moment when I’d feared the worst.

He kissed me back, hard. Perhaps he had the same fears, or
perhaps it was simply the violation of our home, the one place we’d felt safe. Should
I have obeyed Father, gone to Whyborne House and kept these monsters away from
Griffin?

“It’s all right,” he murmured when our lips parted, although
it seemed he said it as much to reassure himself as me. “I’m uninjured. Are you
hurt?”

“No. I avoided those damned tentacles this time,” I said
with a shaky smile.

“Good. I’ll make certain the house is secure. You find
Saul.”

Wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, I pulled him
closer and kissed his forehead. Then I let him go and went to locate our cat.

Saul hid beneath the couch in the study, tail still
half-bushed and ears canted back. I retrieved a can of sardines from the pantry
and lured him out. By the time Griffin joined us, Saul had reverted to his
usual purring self.

“No sign of them,” Griffin said. “I secured the gate, and
downstairs is locked up as well as it can be. Still, I’m not certain how much
sleep I’ll get tonight.”

“Do you think they’ll return?” If they did, I’d be ready.
They wouldn’t escape so lightly a second time.

“I don’t think so. It’s just…unsettling.” He sat on the
floor beside Saul and me. “Of all the times I’ve been attacked in my life, none
have ever been in my own home. Or the string of apartments I thought of as home
while in Chicago.”

“I know. We’re supposed to be safe here.” My voice trembled
with anger. Outside of these walls, so much of the world was turned against us.
But here…here we were free to be ourselves. To sleep in each other’s arms
without fear.

Damn Abbott for doing this to us. The attack on our home
must surely prove his motive a vendetta against my family. It had taken two
years, but he’d finally found a way to turn whatever arcane knowledge his
father left behind against us.

I didn’t bother to say it aloud to Griffin. He didn’t
understand.

But the twins would.

The night we’d roamed the streets of Widdershins…had I ever
truly even considered living so without fear before? Casting off all the
shackles of convention and self-doubt and finally being free?

Of course not. Freedom had been something reserved for
Stanford, who did as he pleased the entire time we grew up.

No more. Abbott wouldn’t threaten my home with Griffin. I’d
destroy him first.

And once he was gone, I’d tell Griffin everything. Show him
we didn’t have to live just within these walls. With my protection and that of
the Endicotts, we’d do whatever we pleased, and no one would dare threaten us
ever again.

The next night, I stood on the street corner not far from
the museum. The wind blew in from the ocean, cold fingers rifling through my
hair and chilling my ears. I bounced in place, unable to stay still, but not
from nervousness.

From anticipation.

“Cousin,” Fiona greeted me with a fierce grin.

I turned to greet them with a grin of my own. Fiona wore a
tweed skirt and coat—she might have been going out with a shooting party
on the moors of her homeland. Theo’s attire was a bit more elegant, the colors
darker.

“Percival,” he said, and clasped my gloved hand in one of
his. “Time to put paid to Mr. Abbott and bring and end to this madness.”

I’d sent a note to them that morning, telling them of the
attack and my decision. Later in the day, I’d informed Griffin I needed to stay
after hours to work on the Hallowe’en tours with Christine. No reason for him
to worry, should this take longer than expected.

But there were three of us, and only one of Abbott. How long
could it possibly take?

Perhaps we’d go out to a saloon again, afterward. Or maybe
I’d just go home and drag Griffin into bed, make love to him until we were both
exhausted, our throats raw from screaming each other’s names.

“The Abbott mansion is on High Street,” I said.

Fiona bowed with a little flourish. “Lead the way.”

The three of us strode abreast down the sidewalk. We didn’t
precisely force anyone out of our path and into the street—rather, they
took one look at us and melted aside. The electric lights competed with the
moon, and shouts and song poured from within restaurants and theaters. The
cold, crisp October air flooded my lungs, invigorating and wild. I wanted to
laugh with the joy of being alive and untrammeled.

Fiona snatched a bottle of beer from a man talking with his
friends, took a swig from it, and handed it back. They all gaped at us in
shock, seeming not to know how to react to such outrageous behavior from
someone dressed as she was. Two young women with their beaus left off their
conversation to watch us pass by, and Theo smiled and tipped his hat to them.
It was as if they could sense we were different, set apart, as if we radiated
some strange magnetism which both attracted and repelled.

As if they knew we were strong, and we were free, and
nothing could possibly stand against us.

“There it is,” I said, as the Abbott mansion came into view.
“See how there are only a few lights? Abbott lost a fortune after his father
died. Threw it away on bad investments and racehorses.”

“Not much of a sorcerer if he couldn’t hex the other
beasts,” Fiona said with all the disgust of a professional for the dilettante.

“He barely has any staff left. Can’t afford to pay them
all.” Staring up the mansion’s darkened windows, something seemed to reach
inside my chest and twist my heart. I couldn’t save Guinevere or Miss Emily,
but I’d be damned if I let the evil within this house take Mother or Griffin.

I could put an end to it tonight.
Would
put an end to
it, alongside Theo and Fiona. As sorcerers—as Endicotts—it was our
responsibility to act. While others might hesitate a fatally long moment, we
would step into the gap and do whatever needed to be done.

“What do you think would be the best way to enter?” I asked.
I couldn’t pick locks, the way Griffin did, but perhaps we could still sneak in
through an unsecured door.

Theo draped his arm lazily over my shoulder and leaned
against me. “Why, through the front door, old chap. What other way is there to
make an entrance?”

Of course. I was still trammeled in my thinking. “None at
all,” I murmured.

“Oh, let me,” Fiona said, clasping her hands with
excitement.

Theo laughed. “By all means, sister. Go ahead.”

She strode toward the house, Theo on her heels, and I
felt
the world around them still, as if waiting for their will to guide it.

God. This was what I’d always wanted, without even knowing
it. This control, this purpose, this certainty. Thanks to Father—thanks
to society—I’d spent my life second-guessing every move, every thought.
Even Griffin, who loved me, cast a dark eye on my arcane studies and strove to
hold me back.

But now I didn’t have to wonder, or worry, or fear. I would
save Griffin, and Mother, and everyone else I loved. The twins and I would put
an end to this. The guilty would be punished, the monsters slain, and we’d all
be safe. Free.

Fiona held out her hand as she walked, sketching sigils in
the air and shouting in Aklo. A gust of wind smashed open the door, all but
ripping it from its hinges. The huge vase sitting on a table just inside
crashed to the marble tiles, bursting into pieces of blue ceramic, which
crushed into powder beneath our shoes.

A man in butler’s attire ran into the hall, and was promptly
hurled into a wall. He struck it hard and collapsed to the floor, dazed.

Theo seized him by the chin, jerking his head back. “Where
is your master?”

The butler blinked. “I…I…”

“Where!”

“The library! Second floor!”

Theo released the man. Stepping back, he wiped his hand on
his trousers, as if he’d touched some contamination. “Second floor it is.”

The twins headed for the grand staircase winding up from the
entry hall. I paused by the butler, whose dazed look was slowly giving way to
one of fear. “Stay out of our way,” I warned. If he was at all like Fenton, he
was deep into his master’s most filthy secrets, nearly as guilty as Abbott.

Whatever other servants Abbott kept, they had less loyalty
to their master or more terror of us. A maid screamed and dropped a pile of
linens, fleeing for some perceived shelter. The rest we glimpsed only as
shadows: the edge of a skirt, the sound of steps. The same presentiment of
power that had cleared the sidewalk for us yet held force, sending the servants
scurrying for their lives.

The second floor landing opened onto a long corridor leading
from one end of the great house to the other. We walked along it, power
swirling around us in a haze. The mirrors lining the walls shattered as we
passed. We ignored most of the doors by common consensus, until we reached a
pair of heavy oak, which could only lead to a room of importance.

This time, I summoned the wind, funneling it down the
corridor and slamming into the doors. Fiona clutched at her hat and laughed in
delight as they burst open.

We entered as one; Fiona watching our left, Theo our right,
and myself straight ahead, as if we’d practiced this a thousand times before.
The library proved to be a large room, books lining three walls, the fourth
hosting enormous windows to let in light during the day. Tonight, only the moon
and a single lamp illuminated the room.

Thomas Abbott sprawled in one of the overstuffed chairs,
coatless and holding a glass of liquor in his hand. Books lay open around him
in a rough circle, as if he’d been in the act of consulting them before giving
it up as a bad job. Even a glimpse showed arcane sigils and gutter Latin, Aklo
and Cabalistic designs.

We came to a halt before him. This man had killed my sister,
murdered Miss Emily, and threatened both my mother and my lover. And how many
others had died at his behest, aboard the ships at the hands of the ketoi? How
many widows and mothers and siblings now wept because of him?

He deserved to die for his crimes.

“Thomas Abbott,” I said, and my words burned with barely leashed
power.

Strangely, he didn’t seem surprised to see us. Instead, he
saluted me with the glass and drained it. “Percival Endicott Whyborne. Funny.
I’d never thought you’d be the one Stanford sent for me.”

The man must be drunk. “Stanford didn’t send me.”

Abbott peered at me blearily, as if he’d mistaken my
identity. Then he shook his head. “Of course he did. Why bother to deny it? I
got desperate and stupid.” He waved his empty glass vaguely in our direction.
“I thought, it’s not like you Whybornes don’t have plenty of money, right? And
I know just what Stanford’s been up to. And then Guinevere comes back, and I’ve
got her too. The way she used to dance on my cock…”

The glass exploded in his hand, and he let out a startled
cry. The wind began to rise, ruffling my hair, just waiting for my word. My
mouth tasted of smoke, fire longing to be unleashed. “You murdered her, you
filthy bastard!”

Terror seemed to cut through his alcoholic haze. “Murdered
Guin? What the devil? She’s—she’s dead?”

“Don’t lie to me!” The pages of the books ruffled in the
gale blowing through the room. One of the windows came unlatched, banging open.
“We know what you’ve done. You summoned the ketoi. Sunk the ships or killed the
crew and left them adrift—”

“Destroyed ships?” He stared at me as though I had gone
utterly mad. “The goddamned
Oarfish
just washed up the night before
last. I invested every last penny I had in her. I’m ruined.”

“Liar!”
I screamed. “We found the threatening letter
you sent to Guinevere! You said you’d kill her, said none of us could save
her!”

“No!” Abbott shied back in his chair, eyes wide with horror.
“I admit I was blackmailing her, all right? Told her I’d find a reporter eager
to make his name through scandal and reveal everything that used to go on in
Newport. Something to make the Vanderbilt divorce seem like schoolyard gossip
in comparison. The papers here might be afraid to print anything your father
doesn’t like, but the ones in Boston or New York would be more than happy to
drag her name through the mud. I wanted to convince her the Whyborne name
couldn’t save her if she didn’t cooperate, but I didn’t kill her, I swear!”

“What a pathetic attempt to save your worthless skin,” Fiona
said. “We know about the prophecy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Believe me,
please!” he begged.

“Even if we did believe you, it wouldn’t be enough.” Theo
pointed at the books lying open around Abbott’s chair. “It’s clear you’ve been
learning sorcery. You’re a danger to everyone, Mr. Abbott, whether you killed
Guinevere and are working with the ketoi or not.”

“I don’t know what the ketoi are! Please!” Abbott shrank in
on himself, all drunken bravado gone now. “The books—my damned
father—this was his legacy. I wasted a year trying to learn it, trying to
get even the smallest result from it. But there was nothing.”

“No,” I said, because it couldn’t be true. I’d mastered the
fire spell in a single evening, and even if these books were poorer teachers
than the
Arcanorum,
Abbott should have learned their secrets in a year
of study.

He shook his head wildly. “I thought it was just nonsense. I
was giving up. But you…it isn’t, is it? God, please, I’m sorry! I should never
have turned to blackmail, not of one of the old families, anyway. Please don’t
kill me!”

Theo’s eyes narrowed behind his spectacles. “You’re a liar
and a sorcerer. There is no reprieve.”

“Stop!” Griffin cried.

~ * ~

Griffin and Christine stood in the doorway behind us, both
of them out of breath as if they’d run here. Griffin clutched his revolver, but
held it pointed at the floor.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. Blast, he wasn’t
supposed to find out about any of this until I was ready to tell him.

“I came to the museum, to tell you the loss of the
Oarfish
will leave Mr. Abbott ruined.” Griffin’s mouth was nothing but a hard line.
“Only to discover you lied about working late.”

“And didn’t tell me!” Christine put in. “I must say, I’m
hurt. I thought we were friends.”

“We
are
friends. And, Griffin, I didn’t tell you
because I knew you’d never approve!”

“Of you killing an innocent man? You’re certainly right
about that.”

“Innocent?” Fiona asked with a laugh. She strolled around
the back of Abbott’s chair. He shrank down, as if he thought he could vanish
into the seat cushion. “Mr. Abbott here isn’t innocent. He’s already confessed
to blackmail and to attempting to learn the arcane arts.” She reached down and
trailed her fingers through his hair. He whimpered. “So run along home like a
good boy, and let us do what needs to be done.”

Griffin raised his revolver and pointed it at her. “Step
away from him.”

“Griffin! What the devil are you doing?” All the blood
seemed to rush from my extremities. “He killed Guinevere!”

“Guinevere wasn’t afraid of him,” Griffin countered harshly.
“Damn it, Whyborne, she knew he meant to blackmail her the night of the party,
and she didn’t care! Either she thought she could pay him off, or it paled to
insignificance beside the real threat. Whatever the case, blackmailers go to
jail, not the gallows.”

“Look at these books,” Theo all but snarled. “He means to
learn sorcery!”

“It doesn’t matter.” Griffin kept his gaze trained on Fiona.
“I won’t stand here and let you kill a man because you think he
might
do
something terrible eventually.”

“I really would suggest you put the gun away right now,”
Theo said, and the threat in his voice was clear.

God—they could set fire to the powder, blow the damned
thing up. Leave Griffin mutilated or even killed.

I put myself between the gun and Fiona. “Griffin, stop.”

His eyes widened, and he lowered it instantly. “Whyborne,
you have to see how wrong this is!”

“Do I? Blackmail, sorcery—Abbott may not have killed
anyone, but surely it’s only a matter of time.” I gestured in Theo’s direction,
although I kept my gaze locked on Griffin’s. “We’re going to make this town a
safe place to live, Griffin. Cut out the darkness from its heart.”

“Like your ancestors did with Dunwich?” he asked.

Damn it. He had no intention of listening to reason and backing
down.

“Have it your way,” I grated through clenched teeth. “Mr.
Abbott gets to live another day. If he’s wise, he’ll use it to leave
Widdershins behind and never come back.”