There was a commotion at the door and in ran Imogen and Charlotte. They were giggling and clutching something. To his annoyance, they plopped down in the center of the room and started setting up a wooden ark complete with a number of paired animals. He almost told the girls to go find someplace else to play, but it was actually nice to hear the sound of laughter and revelry. Too long had there been nothing but the sound of battle and war councils, and there would be more of that in the coming days also. Where once Malcolm would have balked at having them on the front lines, he knew that these two had been baptized in fire. They deserved a moment of joy. There were so few for any of them.
Charlotte let out a sharp squeal of laughter because Imogen placed her pet hedgehog in the ark. It immediately began investigating one of the wooden animals. Shaking his head, Malcolm resumed his work.
A few minutes later, Barnaby the butler came in carrying a tray with food and a glass of water. Malcolm looked up expectantly until he realized with disappointment that the meal was not for him but for the prisoner below. The butler fumbled with a set of keys to unlock the heavy door leading downstairs to the cellar. Malcolm had returned his concentration to his work when he caught a scent. With a clatter, he was on his feet and racing after Barnaby, grabbing one of his pistols from off the table. The servant was already downstairs when Malcolm seized his arm. Barnaby looked panicked.
Malcolm pinched the flame from the candle that stood on the tray, plunging the hallway into deep, black shadows. He growled. “No fire of any sort. You were warned, weren’t you? There’s a lantern in the library you can use.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t want to bother you. You were engaged. I’ll remind the staff.”
“Make sure you do.” Malcolm plucked the candle off the tray and tossed it to the floor. They were close to Ferghus’s cell, so Malcolm led Barnaby through the dimness. When they reached the door at the end of the hallway, Malcolm toed open a slot near the floor.
Barnaby placed the tray down and carefully slid it inside. There was a rattle of chains and the tray disappeared with a throaty, “ ’Bout bloody time. Starving down here. How the hell am I supposed to see what it is?”
Malcolm ignored him and went for the stairs. He paused halfway up when he realized the butler wasn’t following.
“Should I wait for the tray, sir?”
Malcolm scowled with exasperation. A breeze suddenly blew in through the door above. Perhaps someone had opened a window in the library. One of the girls likely.
The wind fanned the candle’s wick and an ember glowed pinpoint red in the darkness. There was a muffled laugh from the far end of the corridor.
Malcolm’s shout of alarm was lost as the air caught fire. The flames engulfed the butler in a deafening roar. Malcolm dove out of the stairwell and hurried to close the door behind him.
“Charlotte! Imogen! Get ou—!”
He never finished. The wood-and-iron door blasted off its hinges sending Malcolm flying across the room. He slammed against a bookcase and the heavy door landed on top of him, cutting off all sight and sound. Searing heat and flame became his world.
Ferghus appeared in the cellar door and the flame in the room drew back into his left hand. He had managed to clear one hand of the flame-retardant gel. His grasp on the doorjamb set the wood on fire. He eyed Malcolm, trapped and seemingly oblivious under the heavy door, which crackled with fire. He then looked up to see the two girls standing in shock, silhouetted against the windows along one wall of the library.
“Stand aside, girls.” Ferghus grinned. Flames licked from his fingertips as he stepped into the room. “I’ve no desire to hurt you.”
Charlotte looked at Malcolm with alarm. The sight of the Scotsman groaning and struggling to regain his senses frightened her. Then her eyes narrowed at Ferghus as she placed herself between the two men. “No. You go back downstairs where you belong.”
The elemental stood straight in surprise. He laughed. “Where I come from, children are seen and not heard.”
Charlotte squared off with her lips tight and her fists clenched. “I don’t know where you come from, but you’re not supposed to leave the house.”
Imogen moved a few steps away. Ferghus stared at the tentacle fingers of her right hand with a twisted expression. He came closer and leaned on a chair, setting it alight.
“Stop that!” Charlotte screamed. “This is our home!”
Imogen flicked a button on the end of her lacy cuff and shook her sleeve loose. Long hairlike quills stood on her forearm like the bristles of an angry cat. Imogen then reached up and pulled the black veil from her pale face. Her strange inhuman eyes fixed on him.
Ferghus paused with astonishment. “What in the name of God are you?”
Imogen raised her arm toward him and quills shot across the library. A thin filament struck Ferghus in the face. He screeched in shock and anger, reaching up and grasping the dangling thread stuck in his cheek. His hand flared and the quill sizzled into nothing.