“Stop!” Simon shouted, raising his hand at the Scotsman and Kate, who were still twenty yards away. “Come no farther!”
Malcolm instantly grabbed Kate’s arm as she started to run on. She struggled to break free, but he held her fast. Simon turned to face the onrushing thing in the dirt. He dropped to one knee, head lolling forward with exhaustion, hand pressed against the frozen terrain. The mound roared forward, plowing within ten yards.
Suddenly there was a tremendous muffled boom. The ground around the head of the furrow blossomed in a dome of loose earth, blown upward from below. The torn beast was partially visible amidst the debris until pieces of the chnoubi slapped into the deep crater in a dusty cloud.
Simon staggered to his feet, watching for any sign of movement in the ground. Footsteps rushed from behind and Malcolm stepped ahead, pistol ready. Kate took Simon’s arm and handed him a vial of elixir vitae, but her eyes were still focused on the smoking hole ahead.
“What did you do?” Kate asked.
“Nothing. We’re inside the wards.” Simon laughed and drank the elixir.
She looked around with surprise. “How can you tell? At night? In the snow?”
“That tree.” He indicated an ash tree standing amidst other ash trees.
“It looks like a thousand other trees.”
“No, it looks like you.” Simon took a shallow, pained breath, but smiled. “It’s my marker.”
Both Kate and Malcolm stared at the tree. Kate cocked her hip. “It looks like me? A tree? That’s flattering.”
“Yes. See how the curves—” Simon worked his hands in an hourglass shape. “It looks like you.”
“Oh.” Malcolm grunted. “I see.”
Kate glared at the men. “Let’s get to the house.”
Simon and Malcolm watched her walk ahead of them through the wind-driven snow. The magician clapped a hand on the Scotsman’s shoulder, leaning heavily against him. Malcolm cast him a wry glance, and nodded.
Kate walked past dark wooden walls and busy wallpapers in Hartley Hall toward the Blue Parlor, where breakfast was typically laid. She would normally be buoyed by the smell of coffee and bread and bacon, but she hadn’t slept much thanks to terrible dreams about snakes. It was a bitter cold morning and her heavy woolen clothes couldn’t keep the gooseflesh from creeping up her arms and legs.
As she entered the Blue Parlor, Kate looked past the elegant coffee urn on the table to see Simon and Malcolm sitting across from one another near the window. They were huddled close, their faces intense, engaged in some desperate plotting, which had her nervous. She noticed that both men were unshaved and in the same rumpled clothes they had arrived in the night before. There were half-filled glasses of whiskey near their hands. Both men looked drained and pensive; Simon even more so.
“Good morning,” Kate announced loudly.
They turned in surprise and Simon glanced to the window, where the morning sun streamed in, brightened by the thin coat of snow outside. “So it is. Good morning, Kate. Surely you could use a bit more sleep.” His voice was gravel and his movements lacked their usual spark.
“Have you two been up all night drinking whiskey?”
Simon seemingly noticed breakfast for the first time. “The whiskey was a minor part of the evening, unfortunately.” He took a cup of coffee that Kate brought to him. “Thank you, but I must finish the night before starting the day.” He drained the whiskey glass and only then sipped the coffee.
Kate rolled her eyes in exasperation and signaled the newly arrived maid to prepare plates and bring them to the two men. Simon thanked the girl and held his breakfast without interest. Malcolm set the plate on his lap and started to eat like a starving man.
Simon said wearily, “Kate, there has been a slight change. I need to journey to my home at Warden Abbey in Bedfordshire. Would you care to accompany me?”
Kate looked confused by yet another shift in the agenda. “When are you planning to leave?”
Simon checked his watch. “Now.”
“Are you mad?” Kate slammed her coffee cup onto the saucer. “Look at yourself! Warden Abbey is at the very least a hard day away, perhaps two. Not to mention that Nephthys may be watching the roads.”
Simon reached into his unbuttoned waistcoat and removed a folded slip of paper. He handed it to Kate. “This arrived for me. Apparently a copy came here, and another to London. They were eager to find me.”
The severe look on Simon’s face cast a cold sheen over Kate. She opened the paper and saw a brief note: Sir. There has been some disturbance at Warden Abbey. I grieve to inform you that it appears as if your mother’s grave has been vandalized in some fashion. Please advise as to a proper course of action. Winston.
She looked up at him. “Simon, I’m … I don’t understand. What could this mean?”