Curse of the Nandi (Society for Paranormals Book 5) (13 page)

I glanced up and down the street; it was still deserted. “So you don’t like watching me endanger myself, hm? How often did you watch me?”

Mr. Timmons chuckled. “More than you know. I found myself following you around just to ensure you wouldn’t die before I could marry you. That night with the twin lion sisters, for example.”

“I thought you were after their energy,” I said as I tucked my walking stick under an arm and rubbed my arms with my hands to warm myself against a cool, dusty breeze and the aftereffect of intense emotions.

“Well, that too,” he admitted with his customary smug grin back in place.

“Are you two all right?” Mr. Elkhart shouted from the other end of Victoria Street. In the quiet, his voice echoed around us.

“Quite,” Mr. Timmons yelled back, then grasped both my hands in his. “Aren’t we?”

I experienced an unnatural constriction in my throat and didn’t dare lend voice to my thoughts. Instead, I merely nodded and gestured for him to proceed.

We rounded the corner and arrived just past the cluster of trees without being decapitated or dismembered. It was a pleasant realization, for to have in one’s possession all one’s limbs and members is most gratifying. Before I could congratulate myself on that matter, a haunting wail reminiscent of a tortured demon reverberated from the abandoned train station ahead of us, followed by what was undoubtedly the howl of a werewolf.

Chapter 17

“Drew!” I cried out. The recent exchange with my husband quite
forgotten, I hastened ahead, my walking stick held at the ready while the bow and quiver bounced against my back.

“Dash it all,” Mr. Timmons muttered behind me.

I couldn’t help but admire his restraint, for he normally wasn’t one to use such mild language when miffed. Disgruntled he was, and I was certain I might very well be on the receiving end of a scolding later that night. But the rebuke would have to wait, for my brother howled again, and I could detect both anticipation and anxiety.

We hurried into the open area in front of the station where the rickshaws normally congregated. At first appearance, the station was deserted, until something stepped out from the shadowy platform.

The creature stood over four feet tall at the shoulder. Like a hyena, it had a limping gait and a steeply sloping back but its ears were larger than a hyena and the snout shorter, more like a bear’s. Its long, shaggy coat was thick and reddish-brown with a slight streak of white down the hindquarters. Its long whiskers twitched, perhaps detecting the size of the brains we possessed.

“You’re not Drew,” I informed it.

“And you’re not listening,” Mr. Timmons said, and I had to assume he was directing that comment to me and not to the Kerit.

The Kerit snarled, revealing a healthy set of strong, sharp teeth.

“I think we can handle the one beast,” I said, stabbing the pointed end of my stick into the ground and drawing forth the bow and an arrow.

“Perhaps we’re being a tad hasty,” Mr. Timmons murmured as he placed a hand softly on my arm.

“Hasty?” I repeated and glanced about in time to see three other Kerit step out of the surrounding shadows. We were encircled. “Well, isn’t that a tidy state of affairs,” I said.

Without a word, we stood back-to-back, and I wondered how many of the Kerit I could shoot before I’d have to resort to the blade at the end of my walking stick. I plucked a second arrow from the quiver in preparation. I had come to the conclusion that I might manage to hit two when a fifth creature joined the Kerit.

“Drew?” I asked, somewhat incredulous.

My werewolf brother wagged his tail and barked, which was not the reaction I’d expected. Still wagging his tail, he walked up to the first Kerit and sat down at its side, looking like a puppy in size and behavior.

“Lovely,” Mr. Timmons drawled, his energy wrapping around us. “We’re about to have our brains devoured and your brother is more than happy to take a spectator’s seat.”

“Something’s a bit off though,” I said.

“You don’t say?” Mr. Timmons retorted. “I rather prefer my brains where they are.”

Leaning back slightly, I pressed my back against his. “Not that. Well, also that, but I was referring to their behavior. They don’t seem as if they’re preparing to attack.”

“And you would know?” he asked, but I could feel some of the tension leave him.

“As a matter of fact, I would. I…”

The Kerit all stiffened and swiveled their heads toward the open grasslands beyond the station. Drew mimicked them, sniffing the breeze. I inhaled but could detect nothing more than the dry clay earth, grass, dung and a distant herd of elephants.

“Why aren’t they attacking us?” I wondered aloud.

“Disappointed?” Mr. Timmons said, a smirk in his soft voice.

Before I could answer, all the Kerit spun about and lunged away and into the night, with Drew racing amongst them.

“Well, that’s a pickle,” I grumbled as we watched the retreating forms.

“And here I was thinking we’d just been saved from a lobotomy,” Mr. Timmons remarked.

“Yes, of course, but now we have to chase after them and we don’t have our horses,” I said as I slung the bow and quiver over a shoulder. The wolf energy animating my metal left hand glowed more fiercely, casting a pearly light on us. “I don’t much fancy marching across the Savannah at night.”

“Indeed,” he said and his acerbic tone caused me to look at him. He was struggling between amusement and irritation. “Who would?”

I frowned. “Then that settles it. We’ll fly. We should both be able to fit on Nelly, and…”

My train of thought was interrupted by a set of warm, slightly calloused hands settling on either side of my face. Mr. Timmons peered intensely into my eyes, and it was both startling and invigorating. My cheeks warmed under his touch from the confusion of emotions.

“Beatrice, while I admire your determination and would thoroughly enjoy sharing a ride with you on that nag, I cannot agree to such a harebrained plan.”

“Harebrained?” The heat in my face increased from another emotion that wasn’t quite as pleasant as the first. “Simon, if we don’t find the lair of these beasts, we’ll be plagued with brainless corpses. And that simply won’t do, for as you well know, I cannot abide such a mess.”

Mr. Timmons lowered his forehead to mine and murmured, “It’s a wonder you’re still alive and have only lost a hand.”

Unsure how to respond to that, I attempted to pull back, but he wouldn’t let me. I breathed in his warmth and wondered to what sort of lecture he would submit me. He however remained silent for a time, and the tension in my shoulders eased away as I leaned into him. Something howled from beyond the globe of light created by my animated metal hand, and the cackling of a hyena answered. The aromatic scent of fertile soil, the heady perfume of night flowers, and the tangy whiff of distant meals cooking over open fires floated along the breeze and wrapped us in its soothing embrace.

“My love, it’s not your job to save us all,” he finally said. He kissed my forehead and then shifted his hands down my arms while gazing into my eyes. “And while I had no issue marrying a woman with a missing hand, it might prove more of a challenge to stay married to her if she were missing a head.”

I smiled at that. “Why, Simon, I had no idea you had such high expectations.”

“Indeed, I am dreadfully disappointed, Mr. Timmons,” Gideon quipped as he floated out of the darkness. “I lost a whole body, and Beatrice didn’t abandon me.”

“Good gracious,” I muttered as Mr. Timmons turned away from me to face the cheeky grin of my former husband.

“Mr. Knight, your timing is impeccable,” Mr. Timmons said just as a Popobawa came flapping out of the sky and landed nearby with a swoosh of dust, its large, leathery wings flapping against the ground as it balanced itself.

“How marvelous,” Gideon said, ignoring Mr. Timmons. “A giant bat. You really do have such charming relatives, Bee.”

The bat in question spat and hissed at me, its wing tips agitating the red soil.

“I can’t understand a word you’re saying,” I replied.

The wings slapped against the ground and sharp teeth snapped together. Then, with a crackle of bones, Mr. Elkhart shifted into his human form and gazed about the grounds. “I thought you’d both been eaten by now,” he said.

“We should be so lucky,” Gideon replied, but Mr. Elkhart could neither hear nor see the ghost.

“Mr. Elkhart, would you be a dear and fly after the pack of Kerit?” I asked in as charming a tone as was possible for me. “You really can’t miss them. Oh, and Drew is there as well.”

Mr. Timmons rubbed at a sideburn while Mr. Elkhart scrutinized me. “You want me to chase a pack of Kerit? Wait, you mean there’s more than one? And what is your brother doing with them?”

“Having fun, I imagine,” Gideon said.

“Running amok,” Mr. Timmons replied.

“We’re not sure,” I added with a scathing look at both my husbands. “But it would be useful to know where they’re going.”

Mr. Elkhart chuckled. “Let me guess: you were planning on doing so yourself, weren’t you?”

“Well, the thought did cross my mind,” I admitted with a sniff and a sideways glance at the implacable Mr. Timmons.

“Are you mad?” Gideon demanded, an uncharacteristic sternness settling on his beautiful features.

“She’s a tad bit more than mad,” Mr. Timmons said.

Mr. Elkhart’s smile broadened. “I’m not sure about being mad, but my dear cousin is certainly entertaining. We could never be bored with her around, and there’s something to say for that.”

Before I could retort with a cross comment, he shifted back into the form of a man-sized bat and leaped into the star-studded sky, rapidly becoming no more than a shadow passing between the heavens and the earth.

Chapter 18

Mr. Hardinge wasn’t the least surprised upon receiving intelligence that his ward had flown off into the night. He was far too engrossed in conversing with Dr. Spurrier, who (judging from the state of his hair and the disarray of his clothes) seemed to have been recently summoned from his bed. Clustered about the men were a few other officials that I recognized but didn’t know well enough to remember their names.

After assuring us he would be taken home by one of his companions, Mr. Hardinge invited us to make use of his carriage, an offer we gratefully accepted. Gideon had faded away once he was assured that I wouldn’t be running or flying after any beasties, and so it was only Mr. Timmons and I who were greeted by an anxious household. We provided a brief report to the others who had been sleeplessly awaiting our safe return and then retired for the night.

Mornings tended to commence earlier in Nairobi than in London, and thus I found myself sitting outside on a roughly made wooden chair as the sun began its ascendance. The horizon was streaked with thin clouds and bands of faded color while the trees around the cottage were heavy with an assorted bird life that never failed to bedazzle me with its diversity of hues and songs. I slipped off my shoes and allowed my feet to brush against the slabs of cool stone that made our veranda.

Satisfied that I could enjoy at least a few moments of peace, I pulled out from my jacket pocket the portrait of my mother and admired the details captured in miniature.