It was impossible. She made one last scan of the area and returned to the library. Simon was still lying on the floor where she had left him. His eyes were a bit glazed and his lips had the oddest smirk.
Kate settled next to him with the sword still in her grasp. “I can’t believe what I just saw.”
“It was a bit unexpected.” Simon rolled his shoulders, regaining some flexibility although his arm flopped wildly as if it was numb.
“What did you do to yourself?”
“It’s a spell that hardens my flesh. The benefit is that it renders me invulnerable to nearly anything. The difficulty is that I am unable to move or breathe. When I begin to black out, the spell wears off. And I become supremely vulnerable.” Simon worked his jaw up and down, accompanied by crunching sounds. He laughed painfully. “Magic has its ups and downs.”
Kate slumped to the bricks and put a hand to her face with a hiccuping laugh that heralded the exhilaration of survival. She heard the footsteps of servants pounding toward them and watched steam rise from the disgusting puddle that used to be a living creature. “Is this normal activity for you, Mr. Archer?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s an everyday thing, no.” Simon took her hand with his peculiarly cold and hard fingers. “And by the way, thank you for saving my life again.”
Kate was disturbed by how inhuman his touch felt.
Chapter Sixteen
It was dark and cold inside the vast arched cellar. Men and women shuffled through the chamber, yet they were not the common breed of London homeless who searched the tenement streets for stoops or basements to shelter in. Some wore fine garb although days of hiding had taken their toll.
One man held court in a corner, growling out a rage to any who would listen. “Who is she to tell us? I was born in Wessex. What of her? She’s from far away.”
“Lincolnshire?”
“No,” he snapped back. “Denmark or Norway or some damn place no one comes from. What can she do that we can’t do for ourselves? What can she give us that we can’t take?”
A woman spoke up. “She has the wulfsyl.”
The man glared and pulled his threadbare coat tighter. “We can get our own. She must get it from somewhere. Why can’t we do the same?”
More in the crowd turned toward him, exchanging glances and nods.
The man flexed his arms. He was large, muscular, and fierce. His long, unkempt beard was flecked with spittle and his eyes glowed. “I don’t care what the rest of Gretta’s little packs are doing. Aren’t you sick of hiding in the dark, waiting for the pathetic meals she brings? Lord Oakham stood up to her. He didn’t hide in the dirt just because she said to.”
There was a ripple of dismay, and someone said, “And now Lord Oakham is dead.”
“He was alone. We are together.”
A girl, perhaps age thirteen, who wore a dirty pink frock and had tangled blond hair, said, “Aren’t we all the same kind? I never knew there were so many. I thought I was alone. Now I think we should protect one another. Why should we fight her?”
The man sneered. “That’s all well and good, girl. But I don’t like taking charity. I was made to take what I need!” He spread his hands over the crowd. “And where is she now? Is she here in the cold with us? No! She is somewhere warm and soft, while she leashes us here like her slaves. I am no one’s slave!”
A silence from the far side of the chamber collided with the aggressive rumble the man had created. The quiet touched his followers, who looked to see its source. The wanderers in the cellar parted for a woman who approached.
Gretta Aldfather stooped for comfort in the low ceiling of the cellar. Her tall frame moved with quiet precision and her vast cloak barely moved. Her face had the cold dispassion of the Arctic. The statuesque woman stopped a few feet from the man who had been pontificating. To his credit, he didn’t shrink but stared evenly up at her.
“Samuel,” she asked quietly, “what is this about?”
“I’m surprised to see you here, Gretta. Aren’t you afraid you might dirty yourself?”
Gretta stood motionless. The crowd began to shuffle, some toward the vociferous Samuel but most away.
He took her silence for hesitation. “We’ve had enough of you, Gretta. We don’t need you here.”
Gretta smiled slowly in understanding. “You’re an idiot. Like Oakham.”
“You killed him.”
“I didn’t, but he deserved it all the same. All of my other lieutenants followed my rules. But he broke my curfews. Brought attention to us. His foolishness brought a hunter to London.”
“I’m not afraid of hunters,” Samuel replied haughtily.
“Then you’re a fool,” Gretta said. “MacFarlane is about, and if he gets your trail, you’ll be dead, just like Oakham.”
Samuel waved dismissively. “MacFarlane is nothing to me. If you’re afraid of him, perhaps you’d best go home.”
“I’m offering a new age for our kind, but you’re too much a beast to see it.”