Forty-One
Victor Hazelton’s library was infused with the dark, somber energy of long-standing grief. There was something else in the mix, as well, Beatrice thought—a quiet, anguished rage. Victor maintained a stoic façade but she could see the dark currents in his footsteps. She suspected that much of his well-controlled anger was directed at himself. He was the legendary Mr. Smith, after all, tasked with keeping the country safe from terrorists and conspirators. But he had failed to protect his beloved daughter from a madman.
Victor was a silver-maned lion of a man with fierce dark eyes and a commanding presence. He appeared to be in his late fifties but he moved with the athletic ease of a much younger person. It was not difficult to imagine him as a legendary spymaster—privy to secrets in the highest levels of government and Society—sending out his trusted agents to track down traitors and crush conspiracies.
He had clearly been surprised to see them when they had been ushered into the library, but he had welcomed them. Beatrice sensed a certain awkwardness between Joshua and Victor but there was also the unmistakable energy of a deep, long-standing bond.
The three of them were seated in the library, Victor behind his massive desk.
The high-ceilinged room was a shrine to Emma Hazelton. One nearby shelf was filled with her notebooks. Another held her diaries. Her framed watercolors were arranged on various walls. Her portrait occupied the place of honor over the fireplace. And all of it was hung with black silk.
Emma had been extraordinarily beautiful, Beatrice thought. She glowed in her portrait. With her fine features, dark hair and dark eyes she would have turned any man’s head. But the artist had also managed to capture her intelligence, elegance and charm.
“We must assume that Lancing is alive, Victor.” Joshua stacked his hands on the grip of his cane. “He will be quite mad by now.”
Victor went very still. His silvery brows snapped together above his aquiline nose. “You believe he survived the explosion?”
“Yes. I know this will be difficult for you to hear, but I think he managed to recover Emma’s body.”
Victor turned pale. He took a sharp breath. His eyes narrowed.
“Are you certain?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
“As certain as I can be without actual proof,” Joshua said.
“But we found two bodies in the rubble,” Victor said. “A man and a woman.”
“Charred beyond recognition. Two victims of his experiments, I imagine. Remember, Lancing lured me there that day with the intention of killing me and destroying all the evidence in a great fire. I think he may have had the two bodies ready before I even got there.”
Victor looked shaken to the bone. “But what of Emma?”
“I am speculating here,” Joshua said. “But I am almost certain that he has preserved her body all this time in the formula.”
“Why in heaven’s name would he do such a thing?”
Joshua’s jaw hardened. “You know why, sir. He is mad. He has convinced himself that he can bring Emma back to life.”
Victor exhaled deeply and closed his eyes briefly. His pain was a harsh, sad force in the atmosphere.
“Lancing was a brilliant scientist,” he said. He opened his eyes. “He of all people should know what is possible and what is not.”
“He is still a brilliant scientist,” Joshua said. “But that does not mean he is not also mad. You know that he was obsessed with Emma. When she tried to escape him he murdered her. It is possible that his guilt and grief pushed him over the edge. By the way, I discovered that he has the Eyes of Anubis. Emma found them for him shortly before he killed her. For the past year Lancing has been purchasing the rare salts required to prepare the recipe for the Egyptian Water from an apothecary in Teaberry Lane.”
“This is astounding news.” Victor rose and went to stand at the window looking out into the garden. “I am in shock.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Joshua said. “I know this is painful for you but I fear there is more unpleasant news. Miss Lockwood is in extreme danger.”
Victor turned to face them, his strong features tightened into a grim frown. “Why is that?”
“Lancing is evidently convinced that she possesses the paranormal talent required to activate the powers of the statue,” Joshua said. “He thinks he needs her to complete his grand experiment. He has made it plain that he will go to any lengths to kidnap her.”
Victor looked at Beatrice with frank curiosity. “Do you possess some psychical abilities, Miss Lockwood?”
“Yes,” she said. “Although Mr. Gage does not believe in the paranormal, he tells me that Clement Lancing does.”
“There is no question about that.” Victor clasped his hands behind his back. “Lancing was convinced that there is an entire spectrum of paranormal forces that extend beyond the normal. In fact, he thought that my daughter possessed some talent. It was one of the reasons he was so obsessed with her. He was certain that she had the ability to ignite the reviving effects of the Egyptian Water.”
“But with Emma dead, he requires another woman of talent,” Joshua said. “He has sent out a professional criminal who calls himself the Bone Man to kidnap Beatrice.”
Victor arched one silver brow. “I am pleased to note that the efforts have failed.”
Beatrice looked at Joshua. “Thanks to Mr. Gage.”
Victor smiled a wistful, fatherly smile. His eyes warmed with memories. “You were always my best agent, Josh. It appears your injuries have not changed that fact. I assume you have come to me because you have a plan?”
“I have set a trap for the assassin,” Joshua said. “With luck he will walk into it tonight. Meanwhile, I would be very grateful if you would allow Beatrice to remain here with you where I know she will be safe.”
“Of course,” Victor said. “Tell me your strategy.”