He continued kissing her and, even with her senses acute, she didn’t see or hear a door open. Suddenly two women stood near her.
Kate’s gaze flicked to the women. Both were young, with shapely figures, clad in the barest silk shift so all the nuances of their anatomies were on display. Their skin, however, was slightly gray and looked oddly thick. Both women had a gruesome scar that ran down the center of their chest and across the top of their left breast. It was a horrific welt, crudely stitched and poorly healed. One of the girls looked familiar.
Barnes reached out to touch the first woman’s shoulder. “Ah, my dears, you shouldn’t be here. I haven’t yet called for you, but no matter.”
The woman he touched stirred and turned her face toward the artist. Her expression was quietly expectant. She put her own hand over his. Then she slowly turned her eyes to Kate and stared without expression. Her features finally stirred Kate’s memory. She had seen that face lying still and pale on the floor of St. George’s Bloomsbury. Kate felt cold seeping through her own limbs and her gaze was drawn to the long, puckered line on their chests. She realized there was no rise and fall to their breasts.
They had no breath.
Kate tried to pull back from Barnes, who was staring at her like a cat tracking a wounded bird. He gripped her tightly. Her hand tried to reach for a vial in her pocket, but Barnes yanked her arms forward.
“Don’t be frightened of them,” he said. “Madeleine and Cecilia are harmless. If I wish it.”
There was a crash of glass behind her followed by a crack of thunder. A concussive blast swept them all off their feet. Barnes’s grip was lost. Kate scrambled up and ran toward Simon, who crouched on the floor in front of a broken window.
Barnes came up onto his elbows, sweeping the broken glass off himself. He eyed Simon with surprised curiosity. He snorted with laughter as he gained his feet once more and ran his fingers through tousled red hair.
Simon’s expression showed nothing but contempt. He stepped in front of Kate. “You’ll not harm another woman, especially her.”
“I haven’t harmed anyone yet. Your perception is so small,” the artist remarked.
“You killed and mutilated those women in an unspeakable ritual,” Simon said icily. “And you’ve reanimated them as trophies. You are something even worse than I suspected. Something inhuman.”
Barnes went to a pitcher and basin on a dresser along one wall. He began to wash his hands. The two dead women rose off the floor and continued to stare at their master. “They’re not trophies. They are Jerusalem. They are Albion.”
Simon whispered and clapped his hands together. Another shock wave rolled over Barnes. The artist slammed against the heavy dresser and toppled to the floor. He glared up at Simon, for the first time showing anger and concern. Barnes reached out toward Simon and spread his fingers wide. There was a faint glow of yellowish-green aether crackling in the air around Simon. The artist grunted with effort.
Suddenly, Simon clutched his chest with a grimace. Kate grabbed him. Simon leaned on her, cursing through the sudden agony.
Barnes struggled back to his feet with his hand still outstretched, his fingers closing as if around Simon’s heart. Simon doubled over screaming.
“Archer, I don’t know who or what you are,” Barnes hissed through gritted teeth, “but I’ll find out from your corpse once I wither your heart.”
“Stop it!” Kate shouted. Her hand pulled the vial of amber from her pocket and threw it at Barnes. The dead women stepped purposefully into its arc and the vial broke against their waxy skin. The amber swelled to encase them.
Barnes exclaimed in surprise at the vision of his reanimated disciples trapped in an ocher resin.
Despite the agony that had brought Simon to the point of collapse, he staggered over to the easel where the figure of Kate was taking form, nude despite Barnes’s assurances. The oils were still wet and Simon slapped a desperate hand on the canvas. With sharp strokes, his finger traced a dark rune across her breasts. His other hand grabbed the real Kate’s forearm, drawing her close against him. With a shuddering exhale, he whispered a word in her ear and the aether responded to him, spreading over them. Kate supported him as he sank to the ground with a rush of relief from the fierce pain in his chest.
Barnes tilted his head in confusion, tightening his grip in the air without result. He smiled angrily. “An aether shield. Impressive. But you can’t sustain it for long. I can wait.”
Kate was formulating a plan in her head when there was a faint noise behind them. There was a shuddering crash and the door shook on its hinges. Barnes leapt back with alarm as a second vibrating boom smashed in the door, spraying splinters of wood. The artist scurried for another door on the far side of the room. He pulled it open and darted away just as what was left of the other door exploded in thunder.