Any Other Name (29 page)

“They’ve bandaged her up, and my uncle is with her.” Will paused. “Thorns?”

Cathy tried to nod but wasn’t certain if she was successful. “I told her to run, she was grabbed by… these creepers… growing out of the bushes covered in thorns. She was screaming. I tried to pull them off her. They were trying to wrap around her neck.” She looked back down at her hands, now understanding why they were bandaged.

“Then what happened?”

“The man had a dagger. He was going to hurt Sophia, so I tried to stop him.” She felt exhausted just talking about it.

“He was trying to hurt Sophia?”

“Yes, I don’t know why.”

“Not you?”

“Why would he want to hurt me? Why would he want to hurt her though? I don’t know, it doesn’t make any sense. Oh, God, Will it was awful. I don’t remember how I got here. He didn’t get Sophia?”

Will shook his head. “The man who attacked you, Cathy, did you recognise him?”

“No.”

“What did he look like?”

“I don’t remember his face… I was looking at the knife.” She felt tears welling. “He stabbed me?”

“Yes. Do you remember anything about him?”

“He was Fae-touched, he was wearing a grey coat with half-cape and a sparkly waistcoat. I saw it when he drew the dagger. Brown hair, in a ponytail.”

“Did he look like one of the Tulipa line?”

Cathy closed her eyes. All she wanted to do was sleep.

“Cathy? I’m sorry, but I need to know as much as possible. Did he look like Bartholomew?”

“What? No, nothing like him or his family. I’m tired.”

“You’re certain?”

 

26

 

Will sat hunched over his desk, the fire crackling in the grate as he examined what he knew. The Arbiter said there was Tulipa magic at the crime scene – how he knew that, Will hadn’t the faintest idea, but there was no reason the Arbiter would lie. The thorns Cathy reported explained Sophia’s injuries and those to her own hands. By the time the police arrived the Charm controlling the thorns would have dissipated, leaving a badly hurt child and no evidence.

Whilst it was some relief to know how Sophia had been scarred, it also confused him. Cathy was convinced the attacker was a Rosa and the thorn angle was damning. But it sounded like a powerful Charm, and who could wield Rose magic now the patron was broken and the Rosas rounded up by the Agency? And if there had been such powerful Rose magic there, why hadn’t the Arbiter mentioned it?

His uncle was still spending every minute of the day with Sophia, for which he was grateful; he only wanted close family around her. Every time he checked on her she asked when Cathy was coming home.

Will was still haunted by the thought that the man who threw the railing was a lover meeting Cathy in the park for a stolen hour. There was a chance he could have been passing by and intervened when he saw a woman and child being attacked, but when Will considered the secret mobile phone and computer, it was clear Cathy had been up to something in her private time. Whatever it was would end now. She was his wife and his alone, regardless of what happened before they married.

A rattling in the door made him look up. By the time he’d reached it the gilded letterbox had appeared and a note was posted through. When he saw the seal he knew it was from Amelia.

It was a Rosa, Will…
Cathy’s words haunted him as he went to the fireplace and opened the envelope. The note was brief and the handwriting suggested it was penned in a hurry.

 

Will, please come to me, something is wrong with Cornelius and I’m frightened.
 

Please hurry, darling.
 

Amelia.
 

 

Will crushed it in his hand, disturbed by the doubts that surfaced. Before seeing Cathy earlier that evening he would have been summoning a carriage without a second thought; now he wasn’t certain whether he should go at all. But he couldn’t just ignore the note.

He pulled the cord beside the fireplace. “Morgan, I need the carriage, urgently, with two armed footmen. And bring my sword cane with my cape.”

“Yes, sir.” Morgan bowed and left.

In the carriage Will prepared himself for the worst, fearing that Amelia was luring him into a trap. He chided himself for such paranoia. Then he remembered that if he’d been more cautious, Cathy and Sophia would never have been attacked. He was never going to let Cathy leave the house alone again. He’d have to find her a bodyguard for when he couldn’t be with her, but could he trust the Agency enough to provide one? He shook his head. It was getting to him.

The carriage drew up; the door was opened and the step lowered. Will climbed out and looked at the footmen. They had both been trained in the latest techniques from Mundanus, with modern pistols unclipped and ready to be drawn at their hip, the holsters incongruous with their formal eighteenth-century footmen’s attire. “Come with me,” he said to them. “And be ready for foul play.”

Will rapped on the door with the knocker and the butler answered as usual. Amelia was in the hallway. At the sight of him she rushed forward and threw her arms around him.

“I’m so glad you’re here!”

He could see she’d been crying. He returned the embrace, remembering how much he cared for her and how much he wanted her to be safe and happy. “What’s wrong?”

She glanced at the footmen and pulled him away a couple of paces. “Cornelius came back a few hours ago,” she said, her voice lowered. “He was very upset. He said Catherine had almost died and an Arbiter said the Tulipas were involved. But he seemed too upset. I knew he was holding something back.”

“Let’s talk in here,” Will said, pulling her towards the drawing room. “Guard the door,” he said to his men and then closed it.

“He was very tense… as if he were preoccupied. I asked him what was wrong but he wouldn’t tell me. He told me to go to my room and stay there.”

Will felt nauseous. Surely Cornelius couldn’t be involved? “Then what happened?”

“A couple of hours went by so I asked the maid what he was doing and she said he was writing letters and throwing them on the fire. I told her to tell me if he did anything else, and later she came to me saying he’d sent out the footman with a note. Cornelius didn’t come up to take tea with me as he usually does. I heard the door about an hour ago and the maid told me a man had arrived and asked for Cornelius. He was taken to his study straightaway. I asked her who it was and she said he didn’t have a calling card but Cornelius was expecting him.”

She paused, biting her lip. “Go on,” Will said.

“With everything that’s happened, and the way he was acting, I was worried so I came downstairs. I thought I’d knock on his door and pretend I didn’t know he had a guest, so I could see who it was. But when I came down I could hear Cornelius shouting. He never shouts. I heard the other man too, he said something about Tulipa, then there was a… I don’t know… a scuffle and then a thud and it went quiet.”

Will could feel her shivering beneath his hands. “Then what happened?”

“I knocked on the door and Cornelius told me to go away. Just like that, ‘Go away’, very harshly. Then I heard him weeping. I haven’t been able to get into the room, it’s locked from the inside. The butler said he was told not to disturb them. Cornelius won’t come out.” She broke down. “I didn’t know what to do so I wrote to you. Do you think I’m being silly?”

“No.”

“You’re angry with me.”

“No, I’m not. You did the right thing. Stay in here and don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s all right.”

The thought of Cathy in hospital flashed through his mind as he kissed Amelia. He went out, checked she was remaining behind and then shut the door. “Come with me,” he said to his men and headed for Cornelius’s study.

“Cornelius?” he called as he knocked. “Is everything all right?” There was a long pause. Will tried the handle but the door was locked. He knocked again. “Cornelius?”

He pressed his ear to the door but couldn’t hear anything. He beckoned to the butler, who’d been lingering in the hallway since he’d arrived. “Do you have a spare key?”

“Yes, sir, I’ll get it for you.”

Two minutes later Will was turning the key in the lock, his other hand on the sword cane. He opened the door slowly. “Cornelius? It’s Will, I’m coming inside.”

He peered around the door. The body was the first thing he saw, sprawled on the rug in front of the fire. It was a man, dressed in a grey coat with half-cape, just as Cathy had described.

It took him a moment to locate Cornelius. He was sitting in a corner wedged between two bookcases with knees drawn up, staring at the body. A glass paperweight was lying on the floor between his feet, smeared with blood. He was as white as a fine china cup and there were spots of blood on his cheek.

“Wait outside,” Will told his footmen, then went in and closed the door behind him. “Cornelius?”

“I killed him,” Cornelius whispered.

Will stepped carefully over the body and moved round to look at his face, which had been obscured by the desk. He was lying on his back, his eyes open. His hair was long and brown, tied back in a ponytail, and Will could see a heavily embroidered waistcoat beneath the partially unbuttoned coat. As he got closer, he could see the blood pooled on the rug and the depression in the man’s skull, presumably made by the leaded glass ball.

“Who is he?”

“My cousin,” Cornelius finally answered.

“A Rosa?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?” Will stooped to close the man’s eyelids. He’d never seen a dead body before nor touched one.

“He was the one who stabbed Catherine.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me.”

Will pulled the one chair in the room closer to Cornelius and sat down. “Did someone take him in to protect him from the Agency?”

“No. He was in hiding.”

“I think you need to start at the beginning. Let me get you a drink.”

Will poured two brandies from the decanter on the other side of the room and handed one to Cornelius, who took it with a shaking hand.

“When I came back from Mundanus I started to think about the Tulipas, how you said they’d never be so crass.” Cornelius took a long drink and it seemed to steady him. “So I decided to pull in a favour and make some enquiries.”

“I didn’t realise there was a place where one could contact the local assassin.”

Cornelius didn’t react to the comment. “There are certain unsavoury individuals in Londinium who always seem to know what’s going on. One thing led to another and it all pointed to my cousin. He was desperate enough to agree to a meeting. He was afraid he was going to be killed.” Cornelius laughed bitterly. “But not by his own cousin.”

“What did he tell you?”

“That Tulipa promised to hide him from the Agency indefinitely in return for Catherine’s death.”

Will put his glass on the desk. Now he was starting to shake. “Bartholomew?”

“Yes.”

“Are you certain he was telling the truth?”

“Yes. I… I lost control of myself. I could see you throwing Amelia and me out to the dogs because of that selfish bastard. And there was a child there, he almost murdered a woman and child, Will. One of my blood. I didn’t realise I’d hit him until he fell.” The glass slipped from his hand and he hid his face.

“I don’t blame you,” Will said. All of his rage was aimed at the Tulipas. “You and Amelia are Whites now, not Rosas. And if you were still a Rosa you would have hidden this from me, hidden him and not cared about what he’d done. It all makes sense now. Cathy thought he was a Rosa. Bartholomew must have given him some sort of Charm, that’s what the Arbiter picked up on. But she said creepers covered with thorns were holding the child… that’s the only thing I don’t understand. How could a Rose Charm still be–”

“The dagger once belonged to one of the Thorn brothers,” Cornelius replied. “It still held some power. He told me.”

Will felt all the uncertainty drop away, leaving only a bright core of pure anger and the desire for revenge. “You were right about Bartholomew,” he whispered. “It was all an act and I fell for it. Even though he didn’t do it with his own hands, he planned it all and he paid another man to murder my wife.” Will knocked the rest of the brandy down his throat. “I have to act. It’s just a matter of time before my Patroon or my patron find out about this and demand to know what I’m doing about it.”

“This isn’t just about them trying to murder Catherine,” Cornelius said. “This is about the throne of Londinium. Strike back and send a clear signal to the Londinium Court that you are a strong, decisive man.”

Will nodded slowly, remembering the sight of his sister, thinking of Cathy lying in hospital, needing to do something to channel the rage. “If I’m to go against the Tulipas directly I’m going to do it properly. I have to see my patron.”

 

The house smelled stale when Sam got home. He didn’t bother to turn the light on; the creeping twilight gave him enough to see by and matched his mood. It had taken almost an hour to walk home and whilst it had made his wounds complain he needed the exhaustion.

Leanne was dead.

He chucked the keys into the bowl in the hallway and looked at the picture of the two of them in the field, lit by an amber shard from the streetlight outside. He wished he could remember it being taken, wished it gave him something other than a sense of emptiness. He knew the album from their wedding day was on the bookshelf in the spare room upstairs, and that he wouldn’t be able to look at it for a long time. A part of him wanted to study the pictures and invite in pure grief in the hope that eventually the rock in his chest would be expelled, but more of him just wanted to switch off.

He went into the living room and saw nothing but the pictures she’d chosen, the furniture she’d picked out, the plants she’d bought. The only thing he’d really contributed was the TV and DVD player. He decided to put the house on the market the next day and move somewhere a long way away that was completely his.

Car doors slammed outside and he went to the window. The street was filled with parked cars now all the commuters were home. He saw neighbours from either side of the house and a couple of people he didn’t recognise all pull out and drive off at the same time, leaving the road outside his house and his neighbour’s completely free of parked cars.

Normally he wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but now he knew about the Fae-touched and Sorcerers he felt distinctly unsettled. He wondered if Cathy’s husband had found out about him or if Ekstrand was planning to do something that required easy access to his house. Then he realised neither party would want to do anything in the real world; they’d be sneaking through the Nether. He shivered and looked behind him at the empty room.

The sound of a car outside brought his attention back to the road. A stretch limousine was crawling down the narrow street and pulled into the space that had just been made. Sam went to the side of the window so he’d be out of sight from the road, fearing that Neugent would step out any moment. Once it was parked, a man got out of the front passenger seat dressed in a dark suit. He looked like a broad-shouldered security man or FBI mook from a silly American thriller. He even had an earpiece and a flesh-coloured curly wire reaching down beneath the collar of his white shirt.

The man looked the street up and down, spoke into a concealed mouthpiece and then moved to open the rear passenger door. Another burly guard got out, followed by another. Sam’s breath sped up as the adrenalin kicked in. He considered leaving by the back door, not wanting to find out who was inside, even if it was Neugent. Nobody brought blokes that big with them for a tea party. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the spectacle in his quiet suburban street.