“Alec?”
He became aware that he hadn’t answered his uncle. “’Tis nothing, Duke. The maid’s death has left a pall on the castle.” That much was true. He needed to speak with Kendra again, before he spoke to the Duke about her unusual circumstance. If some madness had seized her mind, his uncle was in the best position to help.
A knock at the door interrupted his morose thoughts. Relieved at the interruption, he crossed the room, opening the door to a young maid, who stood uncertainly, clutching a bundle to her chest.
“Yes?”
The girl dropped into a hasty curtsey. “Yer Lordship. Oi . . . ah, miss asked me ter give this ter ’is Grace and the sawbones—er, Oi mean, the Doctor Munroe.”
“What is it, pray tell?” Aldridge set down his teacup and came forward. They all watched as the maid shook out the material.
“That’s the gown and spencer that Kendra—Miss Donovan wore yesterday,” Alec identified with a frown.
“Aye.” The maid gave him a nervous look. “Miss said ye were ter look at the stains. Said it mebbe potash, sir.”
“Potash?” Munroe questioned, coming forward. He took the dress from the girl, scrutinizing the smears. “’Tis possible. They have a similar look. I would need your microscope, Your Grace, to be certain.”
“Of course.”
“Where is Miss Donovan?” Alec asked sharply.
“Oi dunno. She said she’d been wrong.”
Icy fear had Alec grabbing the girl’s arm. “Did she leave the castle?”
“Oi dunno, ye Lordship!”
“Alec, you’re frightening the girl.”
“Devil take it!” Alec glared at his uncle, but let go of the maid. “I told her not to go anywhere alone!”
Aldridge frowned, glancing at the maid. “You know nothing of Miss Donovan’s whereabouts?”
“Nay, sir!”
“You may go.” Once the maid had left, Aldridge turned to Alec. “Calm down. Miss Donovan is no fool.”
Kendra’s words came back to him in a terrifying rush. “Dammit. We need to find her!”
Aldridge moved to the bellpull. “I shall summon Rebecca. If Miss Donovan isn’t with her, she most likely will know where she’s gone.”
I hunt serial killers.
But that was the thing about hunting a wild beast—desperation made them more dangerous. Kendra may think she was hunting the killer, but Alec knew, a chill deep in his gut, that the situation could easily be reversed. The fiend could be hunting her.
61
Kendra did not have a first conscious thought. She only felt pain. It radiated from the top of her skull all the way down to her toes. Slowly, she became aware of two other things: she was lying on her back, and her hands were pinioned above her head. She tried to move her arms, and felt the pinch of metal against her wrists.
Panic jolted through her like an electrical current. Visions of other wrists rubbed raw flooded her mind. She opened her eyes, barely noticing the shadowy ceiling above her as she thrashed around, rattling the chains. The sour taste of terror invaded her mouth.
She stopped her frantic movements, concentrating instead on subduing the blind panic. She closed her eyes. Breathe in; breathe out.
As the fear receded, her senses expanded. The air was cold and dank. She could smell beeswax and mildew. And something else that nearly broke her control again.
Blood.
It took every ounce of willpower to keep calm. She opened her eyes. Golden light flickered over stone walls—a building of some kind, or a basement . . . no, a cave. One in the network of caves that Rebecca had mentioned. Which also meant it would be impossible to find.
“You’re awake.”
The voice was close, startling her. She cut her eyes to the source, the movement causing greasy nausea to roll through her. Thomas was sitting in the corner of the room, staring at her. In the candlelight, his eyes glowed like a demon.
“What the fuck did you hit me with?” Her voice was unsteady.
He stood and came over to her. “You were where you didn’t belong.”
“Story of my life.”
“You will be punished now.” The hermit giggled.
Kendra squinted up at him. Even in the dim light, she could see the unnatural shine in his eyes. Madness or narcotics? Maybe both.
“He’s coming,” whispered Thomas. He was close enough for his stale breath to fan across her face.
She stared at him, trying to make sense out of his words. “Who? Who’s coming?”
“My master. He’s coming for you.”
62
“I have not the faintest idea where Miss Donovan is,” Rebecca confessed. Her eyes darted between the Duke and Alec, her brow puckering. “Why? What has happened? Should I be concerned?”
Aldridge hesitated. “I am certain she is about. We simply need to locate her.”
Rebecca wasn’t fooled. “Do not treat me as though I have cotton for brains. She is my responsibility! I demand to know if something is amiss.”