Poison in the Blood (10 page)

“Would you be willing to recount the details of the previous crimes?” Simon asked.

Justine eyed him thoughtfully. “To what end, Mr. St. Jerome? Have you decided to aid my investigation? Or do you still believe that I am unsuitable?”

Simon leaned back in his seat and steepled his long, pale fingers. “I believe that we have common goals, and that working together is in everyone’s best interests. We should pool our resources.”

“If you can accept my lead, then we should have no further argument. But you should also keep in mind that there are those who would not appreciate a chronicler’s involvement in this case. Particularly the victims’ families, who lost their wives and daughters to a killer who drained them of their blood. Questions have already been raised about Mr. Black’s change in condition, and whether or not he could have been involved.”

“I would never!” Michael exclaimed.

Justine eyed him coolly. “Mr. Black, husband and father, might not do such a thing, but a newly made blood drinker is entirely capable of such an act.”

“From Yorkshire? That seems unlikely,” Simon scoffed.

“Not if the killer is possessed of the knowledge of shadowstepping,” she countered.

“Shadowstepping?” I repeated. “Is that what created the gateway I witnessed?”

Justine nodded. “I believe so. It explains how Mr. Paris was able to abduct the victims from their homes without any witnesses. He stepped in, grabbed them and stepped out again.”

“I don’t know how to shadowstep, and even if I did, I am not capable of murder,” Michael said.

“Good. Though others were concerned because you are still adjusting to your change in condition, I didn’t believe you were guilty. This is the work of an experienced blood drinker,” Justine said.

“Agreed,” Simon said. “Now, the details, if you please?”

The guardian paused for a long moment, and I wondered if she was going to throw him out, but then she launched into the details of the investigation.

“It could be a demon,” Simon suggested after she finished.

“It could be. But considering that only one summoner was among the victims, I feel a blood drinker is the most logical suspect. One does not hear hoof beats and suspect a zebra,” Justine said.

“Mr. Paris didn’t feel evil, as I assume a demon would,” I said. “Then again, he didn’t feel like a master necromancer either.”

“What was your sense of him?” Michael asked. He already knew my sense of chroniclers, for I had expressed my unease with Simon’s energy often enough.

“Hmm… He was charming, charismatic and very powerful. His presence was overwhelming. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it,” I admitted.

“Perhaps there is more than one killer. A master and an apprentice, with Mr. Paris as the living bait to draw the young women in,” Simon suggested.

My last vision flashed through my mind, of the woman’s despair at being infertile. “Are female master necromancers sterile?”

“Lady Brigid confirmed that all masters are sterile,” Justine said.

“Perhaps she is trying to steal their fertility. In my vision the woman had blood on her hands. I assumed it was hers, but what if it was the blood of her victims?”

“Can you describe her?” Justine asked.

“No, I was her in the vision. I have no idea what she looks like. If I had another vision… I’d need something to trigger it, though.” I sighed. Visions rarely appeared when I wanted one, and almost always when I did not.

“Which we may not find until Mr. Paris abducts another victim,” Justine said. I hoped it didn’t come to that.

“If he does, I would prefer that you two ladies not charge in on your own again,” Simon said.

“I am a guardian, sir—”

“—and Mrs. Black is not. You may be well equipped to fight demons and master necromancers, but seers have no offensive or defensive magic.”

Though I wished I could argue with Simon, it was the unfortunate truth.

“I have no offensive magic, and I have always been safe in Miss Dubois’s company,” Dr. Bennett said.

“You’ll forgive me if I do not want the mother of my children charging into battle without me,” Michael said. It seemed more difficult to argue when it was put that way.

Justine gave the chroniclers a slight nod. “I will wait for you both to join me, when possible, but I won’t hesitate if something happens that requires immediate action during the day.”

“Of course,” Simon said. Michael appeared less than convinced, judging by the furrow in his brow, but he gave a grudging nod.

We discussed a few more theories—insane alchemists, deranged magician hunters, various breeds of demon that could be responsible. Finding the murderer, or murderers, would be so much simpler if they didn’t have the whole of London to hide in.

Miss Dubois promised to keep us apprised of the situation, and my escorts remained silent during the trip home. Perhaps they recognized how I was of value to the investigation—more likely they were plotting their next move.

I continued to ignore them on our arrival, and I attempted to retreat to the safety of my room. Of course I did not make it past the nursery due to Robert’s wailing. Poor dear, he sounded as irritated as I felt. I knew I was encouraging bad behavior, and he would never sleep through the night on his own if I continued to coddle him, but I picked him up as best I could with my healing arm and brought him with me nonetheless. I suppose I needed the comfort as much as he did.

We settled into the rocking chair and I began to sing to him. My poetry is far better than my singing voice, but my children were young enough not to critique my performance yet. With my focus on soothing my son, I didn’t notice that we were no longer alone until Michael spoke.

“He isn’t sleeping through the night anymore?”

I tensed, surprised that I hadn’t heard the door open—it had opened, hadn’t it? My husband couldn’t walk through walls, could he? Perhaps I should put a bell on him, like the one worn by Josephine’s aging calico cat.

“No. He hasn’t since February. The healer claims it is a phase. You’re not allowed to be in here,” I reminded him sternly.

Michael held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I know. I wanted a chance to speak with you. I will keep my distance.”

I frowned as the baby whimpered. I wanted to believe Michael. I never would have believed him capable of harming me or the children, but as I had been constantly reminded, he was no longer himself. What sort of monster could he have become that he couldn’t be trusted to be alone with his own family?

“Speak quickly then,” I said.

“I’m so sorry, Em. I know this has been difficult for you. I never meant to hurt you, but I was afraid of losing you.” Michael stepped closer and then caught himself. With a frustrated sigh he flexed his fists and stepped back.

“But you will lose me. You’ll lose all of us one day. Except for Simon, I suppose,” I said, and he winced. “The two of you will be together forever.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No one is more aware of that than I.”

“That’s not what I meant. You know that I would rather have an eternity with you. Every day I live without you is a torment. That’s why I chose to undergo the ritual now. I wasn’t prepared to lose you, and I nearly did. I need you to understand that. The midwife warned me that you wouldn’t survive another childbirth.”

“We could have continued keeping separate rooms.”

“Ah, yes, because that worked so well for us before,” Michael replied with a dry smile. I blushed as Robert tugged on a tiny fistful of my hair, an apt reminder of how my husband and I had failed at avoiding sharing a bed in the past. Michael slowly approached us and knelt next to my chair. He took my free hand in his and ran his thumb across my knuckles, and I shivered in a reaction that had nothing to do with the chill of his skin.

“We are much too addicted to the pleasure of each other’s company. Knowing that, I thought it best to undergo the ritual now, rather than later.”

I squeezed his hand with a sigh. “I understand that, but it does not mean I have to accept it, or like it. When I first heard that you survived the ritual I was so relieved that I hadn’t lost you. But now I realize that wasn’t true. I did lose you. I just didn’t know it yet.” My throat tightened and my eyes stung, and I struggled to hold back the tears. If I started sobbing I would set Robert off again, and neither of us would get any sleep.

“That’s not true—”

“Yes, it is. I can see the change in you, more clearly than anyone else ever will. I can’t pretend that nothing is wrong, that things will go back to the way they were before. I think it would be better if…” I trailed off, unable to finish that statement.

“Don’t say that. I won’t give up on us so easily,” he insisted. “I need you to know, and you mustn’t tell anyone this…I tried to leave the Order.”

My jaw dropped in complete and utter shock. In a sense, Michael had been married to the Order since before we had met. “What? When?”

“Before the ritual. I was afraid that I wouldn’t survive, and I didn’t want to risk leaving you and the children alone. I asked Simon to release me from my oath, but he couldn’t. It’s not within his power. I had to go through with the ritual. My only other option was to desert the Order, and if I did that I would be considered an oathbreaker, and we would be left with nothing. No home, no money, no chance at a decent life.” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

“I don’t care about the money. We would have managed without it,” I assured him, and he shook his head.

“It’s more than that.” He gently stroked Robert’s hair. “I know that you hate what I’ve become, but this was the best choice for our family. The only choice. We would have been outcasts if I had left. It would have been a stain on our family’s honor that would have affected our children, and their children. I want the best for them, and for you. I love you. It’s my duty to provide for you all. This may not be an easy path, but it is the most rewarding.”

“I would gladly starve if it meant having you alive,” I said.

His brow rose as he looked from me to Robert and back again. “Would you?”

Could I let my children suffer if it meant having their father with us, alive and mortal? What would we do if we had no fortune and no home? At the moment we still lived with Simon, and he would have been under no obligation to continue providing for us if Michael was no longer his apprentice. We had nothing saved to start a new life with. He was right that the Order would provide for our family.

I sighed. “Perhaps not.”

Michael sat back on his heels. “Em, you come from a good family. I don’t. You haven’t known hardship as I have, and I don’t want you to. I never want our children to suffer as I did. I want our family to have a good life. You may never forgive me for this, but it was the best decision.”

I looked at him as I struggled with the urge to attempt to read him. Michael never mentioned his childhood—he avoided speaking about his parents, and answered questions about his past with an easygoing shrug and the assertion that it wasn’t important. Yet it was. Perhaps it was the most important piece of this puzzle, and I had never considered it.

I swallowed hard and nodded. “I understand.”

“Thank you.”

I looked away, my heart heavy with grief for the things I could not change. When I looked up again Michael was gone, and I tried to console myself with the fact that everything was for the best, even if that truth was painful.

Chapter Seven

The next morning brought a cold rain that prevented me from hiding in the garden, but thankfully I was also spared from further depressing dealings with our resident chroniclers for the majority of the day. I suspected that they were plotting something, and my fears were confirmed when Simon appeared in the hallway after supper and swooped down upon me like a scowling bird of prey.

“The Scrivener has summoned us,” he announced.

“I’m certain you’ll have a lovely visit. If you’ll excuse me—” I said, attempting to pass him. He moved to intercept me like a persistent, unwanted dance partner.

“He wishes to speak with you.”

I paused, gaping up at him in shock. “Me?”

“He asked for you specifically.”

It was a bit like a mortal being summoned to Mount Olympus to speak with Zeus, and that never ended well for the mortal. “Oh. I see. Allow me to fetch my wrap then.”

Though I would rather have had a set of armor to prepare myself for this battle, or at least a clever parasol like Justine’s, I was armed with only the dubious protection of my black silk gloves and a sturdy shawl. When I returned downstairs I found both Michael and Simon waiting for me in the foyer, and we left together, a less-than-united party headed into the lion’s den.

There was something bothersome about the rain in London. Not merely the inconvenience that it caused for our travel, but it held an additional factor that irritated my magic. Normally I found rain to be a cleansing element, but here it seemed to stir the city’s energy, as though the rain was filled with whispering spirits. I closed my eyes, trying and failing to ignore the phenomenon.

“Are you unwell?” Michael asked.

“Yes,” I replied, and left it at that.