A Grave Inheritance

“Your screams seem to have woken the other tenants.”

 

 

I gave him a confused look. “That wasn’t me.” Those tortured screams had come from the man, low at first, then moving higher...much like a woman. “Good Heavens! His emotions must have passed straight through me.” I swallowed again over the tender skin in my throat.

 

Henry studied my face. “What happened after you touched him?”

 

It took a moment for the words to form. “His mind,” I said, struggling to explain. “It’s as though someone split it in two. And the worst part, Henry, is that he knows it, and he knows the bad side is winning. He...he asked me to kill him.”

 

Henry’s gaze fell to the man. “Is that what you want?” he asked me. “I’d prefer the gallows, but we can end it tonight if you wish.”

 

A minute ago, I would have answered an unequivocal yes. And that was before the action could be justified by mercy. A simple nod would suffice for Henry to draw the sword at his side and end the man’s suffering. All I had to do was nod.

 

Unease skittered through me. The man was fighting tooth and nail against an evil that far exceeded anything I had ever felt before. Perhaps it could be blamed on simple madness. Or perhaps there was something more to his torments. “Cate should have a look at him while he’s still alive.”

 

“I’ll have to tie him up then. Once the stupor wears off there’s no telling what damage he may cause.”

 

As though in protest, the man groaned and kicked out a leg, catching a toe on the bottle. It rolled the short distance into the shadows. This time I did nod, and fetched a ratty linen shirt from the chest to be cut into strips for bindings.

 

Only a few hours remained before dawn when we stepped from the room into the muddy lane. Ellen sniffled at my side, running a sleeve under her nose. “I best return to the bakehouse if ye don’t mind, miss. The others is probably up by now and Mr. and Mrs. Larken don’t have no peace of mind whenever one of us has gone unaccounted for.”

 

“Yes, of course,” I said. “Is there anything else we can do?”

 

“Just tell her ladyship about Jenny is all. She’ll want to know.”

 

I shivered from a sudden chill.

 

Henry’s arm tightened around me. “Let’s get you home—”

 

A man’s angry voice erupted in the stillness a short distance ahead. Henry tensed, one hand dropping to his sword hilt. More voices joined in, tense and loud until it sounded like a full-scale argument.

 

Henry passed the lantern to me. “It’s the footmen. They’re under attack.” Metal scraped against leather as he pulled the sword from its scabbard. “Go back inside. I’ll return directly.”

 

Another chill shook me, more intense than the first. “But Henry—”

 

His expression turned thunderous. “Do it!”

 

I flinched in surprise. Without another word, Henry turned and started only to come to an abrupt halt. Raising the sword to shoulder height, he slowly turned in a half-circle from left to right. A low growl drifted through the damp night air, turning my skin to gooseflesh. Experience told me what lurked in the dark a split second before an enormous hound stepped from the deepest shadows, its pale white form just discernible at the very edge of the lantern light.

 

Three more hounds followed closely behind. Fear ripped through me, and for a moment I stood as though frozen. Then a hound lunged at Henry, turning my fear to violent hatred. The sword glided in a gleaming arc. The beast yelped at the same time a small red blossom appeared in the white fur of its upper foreleg. Another lunged, but Henry moved too quickly with a slice the beast barely escaped.

 

Snarling, the hounds slunk out of reach. Henry tracked their steps, striking out whenever one attempted to creep around his flank to where Ellen and I stood. Power burned in my fingers, and I almost wished one around so I could put an end to it the same way Cate had done so many times before. Her brief instruction came back with clarity...Keep low and strike fast.

 

A pistol discharged somewhere in the direction of the carriage. A man’s scream was followed by another shot. Henry jerked his head toward the sound of his men, his sword hand slipping slightly. One of the hounds took advantage and lunged. In a flash, the blade whipped through the air, catching the animal’s side and knocking it into the wooden wall near us.

 

Ellen cried out and pressed her back against the door. The hound remained motionless, though still alive or its body would have burst into blue flames. Just then, movement caught my eye. Whipping my head to the side, I glimpsed a young girl standing a dozen paces behind Henry in the middle of the lane. Loathing filled me, and I would have recognized the white-blond hair and beggar’s rags even without the benefit of the lantern.

 

Kari Edgren's books