Nero's Fiddle (42 page)

All things must come to an end…

London is in the frozen grip of an unnatural winter and Queen Victoria wants answers. Cara and Nate know who―the Curator. The Queen’s artifact hunters just don’t know
what
is responsible. Cara is on the trail of an ancient and powerful artifact capable of freezing a city and stirring demons, but first she must confront her past and her father’s history. Only in learning why her father became a disciple of the Curator can she hope to learn what the old noble holds and why he is so fascinated by her.

Tragedy strikes, and the bond forged by Nefertiti’s Heart is severed. Nate without Cara succumbs to his darkness and he lashes out at those he holds responsible for her loss. Meanwhile, in the shadows, Inspector Fraser waits for his opportunity to pull down the man known as the villainous viscount.

With London entombed in ice and all hope lost, this could be the end…

ooden planks covered the windows, the nails stuck out and hung at crazy angles as though someone unused to wielding a hammer put the boards up in a hurry. They could have blocked out the light, but the haphazard construction left gaps between each slice of timber. Cara glimpsed enough to tell night from day, morning from afternoon. Moments of peace from full on dread.

It only took three days for her to fear dusk. As the shards of light retreated with the approach of night, the men returned. She pressed her ear to the door, listening. Waiting. A light tread headed down the hall and she raced to the far corner of the room. She tried to make herself small and insignificant, burrowing into the wainscoting as close as her frame would allow. She curled into a ball, her arms around her knees, her spine flush with the wall. A sob broke off in her throat as the owner of the feet neared.

Day three and no one had come for her.

Three days and no one stopped the horror.

Her muscles protested every movement and her body ached; not just the welts from the beating, or the dark ring of bruises around her arms and wrists, but in other places. She thought they would tear her in two, rend her body like her mind and leave splintered pieces on the floor. Another cry welled up as she forced the memory away and tried to forget what they did to her each night. Every footfall made her heart leap into her throat. The lock clicked as the key turned and then the door rattled.

Her heart stuttered and stopped.

She screwed her eyes shut tight and buried her head between her knees. She couldn’t breathe, her heart jammed in her throat trying to escape even if she couldn’t. Don’t see me. Don’t see me, she prayed.

A hand gripped her ankle and dragged her from the corner.

“No!” she screamed, her hands scrabbled for purchase on the smooth floor.

No one heard her cries. No one would save her. She either laid down and gave up, or fought to escape. In the space between one heartbeat and another, she made a choice. She kicked and clawed, striking out blindly with her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see his face. Could not bear to see him grinning at her as he did those things to her body.

Large hands captured her wrists and held her tight, stopping her torn nails from digging into flesh. The panic in her chest erupted at being confined. She tried to scream but the terror constricted her throat and only a high pitched keen escaped.

“I have you,
cara mia
.”

The fear short circuited her brain and constricted her vocal cords, only a whimper managed to pass her lips. Her body shook with the effort of trying to free her limbs.

“No,” she whispered. “Please.”

“You’re safe,
cara mia
. You escaped and they were punished. They will never touch you again.”

Something about the low tone soothed the raging fear. Her mind stilled for an instant. Something was different this time. Arms wrapped around her and held her close, but not to hurt―to protect. A steady beat next to her cheek pulsed through her with the lull of a soft wave.

The cry of terror turned to a sob of relief.

“Safe?” She stuttered over the word, not daring to say it out loud. Still unwilling to open her eyes, least this prove to be a cruel trick.

“Safe,” the familiar voice whispered.

Safe. Dear God, she was safe. It was over.

The child in her cried with relief while Nate stroked her hair.

“I will always protect you.”

Some foul creature tortured her brain with a brand of pure sunlight. She cracked open one eye as she sat upright, dragging the blanket with her. A shadow opened the curtains, outlined by the ring of fire burning across the floor. The figure turned. The fog slowly lifted and Nate walked toward her. He picked up a mug of coffee from the end table and placed it in her hands and then sat on the bed. For once he didn’t hide his worry, he wore it openly on his face and in the piercing gaze.

“The nightmares are back. And they grow worse.”

She didn’t want to think about it, the nightly struggles were long ago confined in a dark corner of her mind. Until recently. She inhaled the sharp aromas wafting off the mug. “I thought I had defeated them, but they have arisen and are clawing themselves free in my mind.”

“You had a couple the first few months we were together. Then none until early this year.” He cupped her face and his thumb stroked her cheek. “Now they are almost weekly and stronger. You struggle so hard to be free, Cara.” A single tear rolled down her cheek and he brushed it away.

She stared into her mug. “They nearly broke me,” she whispered. “Part of me wanted to just lay down and die but then I remembered who I was and I fought.” She turned her face into his palm.

“How do we make you free?”

She let the vapour drift up to her brain. “It’s linked to what is happening out there.” She waved at the window with its thick white frosting. Even though they approached the end of March, outside London lay frozen. More than the temperature, the cold pervaded the atmosphere and slunk into every home. The people were morose and laughter diminished, the life and vitality sucked from their bodies.

She raised her gaze to meet his. “Something bad is coming and the demons are rising up with it.”

Cara stood in the secretary’s office and plucked invisible dust motes from her clothes. Her hands were unable to rest and kept fussing with the fabric of her skirt.

“We’re not in trouble,” Nate whispered from behind her. He reached around to take her hand and still the nervous movement.

She snorted. “Name one trip here that hasn’t resulted in trouble.”

His lips twitched. “Fair point, but no one will try and kill us here. Not today.”

The secretary pushed apart the doors and announced them. The Queen, dressed in full mourning, stood in front of the world map that encompassed one wall. Her hand rested on the Pacific Ocean between Australia and Aotearoa. “We hear your endeavours in the colonies are successful, Viscount Lyons.”

They rose from their brief bow and curtsey. The Queen launched straight into business and not letting them teeter in the uncomfortable positions. “Yes, Your Majesty. The new long range airships take immigrants and supplies out and will return laden with cargo.”

Victoria’s hand swept upward and over China. “We look forward to the taxes from your new trade to supplement our treasury.”

Cara swallowed her sudden laughter so hard that tears sprung to her eyes. She coughed, trying to put the air back into her lungs. Nate didn’t pay taxes, McToon the canny Scottish lawyer saw to that.

Ignoring his choking wife, Nate spread his hands. “I labour to benefit queen and country, ma’am.”

Victoria made a noise deep in her throat that mimicked Cara’s scoff of disbelief. The Queen flowed to the window, her steps invisible under the enormous crinoline, making her appear to be on wheels. She raised a hand to the glass to trace a falling snow flake. “Why does the snow keep falling?”

Cara chewed her lip. Was it a rhetorical question? “It is an unseasonably late winter, ma’am.”

The Queen fixed her with a piercing gaze. So similar to Nate’s in many ways. It tore through your protective layers and left you exposed. She needed to add only the most delicate arch of her eyebrow to express her complete disdain for Cara’s words. So hard to reconcile her with the fun loving Nessy, her natural mother.

“It is near the end of March, Lady Lyons. The Thames remains frozen. Our scientists tell us that each day the ice thickens. We are aware this phenomena is wrapped around London but elsewhere in our dominion spring approaches.” Her hand curled into a fist, the steady gaze faltered. She looked away for a moment; when she met Cara’s gaze again, her face softened, the lines visible on her brow. “Is this our doing?”

Hatshepsut’s Collar discharged its energy into the sky and unleashed a storm upon London. Many speculated that the unnatural winter was triggered by the lightning that shot upward to the sky that October night.

“No, ma’am.” Cara had thought exactly that and read every book Malachi could provide her that alluded to the Collar. She could find no reference to it altering the weather beyond the short term effect of the lightning. As days turned into months, it became obvious the cold grip was localised. The rest of England warmed, daffodils popped up their heads and lambs made their appearances. It was more than the cold and snow, a dread settled over London as though the damp crept into the populace and chilled their spirits. Long buried demons sought to return and haunt the people. Tempers flared as the citizens became fractious and the Enforcers were overrun with petty crime and disputes.

Cara reached out for Nate. They both believed they knew who was behind the abnormal winter. When the Thames froze over it began in Southwark and radiated out, confirming their fears. They just didn’t know what had such an effect.

“We shall investigate, ma’am,” Nate said. He gave Cara’s hand a squeeze, silencing the protest on her lips.

“Good.” She nodded and returned to her desk.

“If I may make one request, ma’am,” Cara halted the queen’s return glide.

“Yes?”

“Amongst Prince Albert’s things are a number of books he collected on matters of unusual phenomena, they may assist our enquiry if I could have access to them.”