Poison in the Blood (9 page)

“We will take her to my home. It is closest,” Miss Dubois announced.

I watched with fascination as her silver weaponry changed shape, the shield becoming the umbrella of her parasol and the sword the handle. How marvelous. “May I have one of those too?” I asked.

Miss Dubois laughed. “I’m afraid not. It’s a guardian’s weapon and is harmful to the touch to anyone who is not a guardian.”

Pity. “I can walk,” I told Michael. “In fact it might be best if I do. You might accidentally jostle my arm if you carry me. Or we might both burst into flames beneath your mentor’s glare.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Simon muttered darkly. “I am adept at fire spells.”

Michael chuckled, and as my husband set me on my feet I pondered parasols, shadows and what sort of creature could walk through brick walls. The only thing I was certain of was that Josephine would be furious when she learned I was injured. As I shifted my weight a wave of pain shot through me and I stumbled. My uninjured hand shot out to steady me, and connected with the remains of the magical gateway in the wall. I cursed in a very unladylike manner as a vision welled up and swallowed me whole.

Chapter Six

Terrible sobs wracked my body as I wept. Hugging my arms to my chest, I rocked back and forth in the middle of the glen. It was bone-chillingly cold, and everything around me was caught in winter’s spell. No life, no color—the trees were spindly skeletons, reaching up toward a gray sky.
Barren.

“Darling, what’s wrong?”

I looked up at the sound of my lover’s voice, and my heart shattered again as he approached and knelt at my side. How could I tell him? With the words stuck in my throat, I held out my hands to him, revealing the only color in our surroundings. The crimson stain of blood.

“It isn’t fair.” Despair filled me until I burst into a fresh round of tears.

“We can try again,” he assured me.

Anger sizzled through me and I leapt to my feet. “No, I can’t bear it. It isn’t fair! Is one child truly so much to ask for?”

Blood. A miscarriage?
I had never miscarried. Indeed, fertility had not been a problem with Michael and me after our marriage. We even had a set of twins to show for that. When I looked up at my lover again his face was no longer my husband’s, but the angelic visage of Mr. Paris. I opened my mouth to ask a question, and the vision vanished.

“Mrs. Black?” Miss Dubois said.

“Emily,” I corrected. I opened my eyes and found the guardian seated in a chair next to my bed. I didn’t recognize the surroundings, so I assumed I had been transported to her home as planned. “You must call me Emily, for I have decided that we should be friends.”

She smiled, her expression filled with relief. “Then you must call me Justine. How do you feel?”

I glanced down and discovered that my arm had been bandaged. I was also dressed in an unfamiliar nightgown, which I assumed must belong to Justine due to the pretty pink ribbons. Pink suited her, because it softened the rigidity of her guardian’s attitude. An echo of pain tingled through my arm as I flexed my fingers.

“It hurts a bit, but it is bearable. Is it completely healed?” I asked.

“Yes, though Dr. Bennett warned that the bones will be weak for the next few days as they continue to heal, and you should not strain them. I sent word to your family that you are here. Dr. Bennett doesn’t want to move you just yet, so your husband will take you home tomorrow after nightfall.”

“Michael is here?”

“Yes, he’s in the library with his mentor. They’re both wearing paths into my carpet with their incessant pacing. I hope the news that you are awake will calm them.”

“Thank you.” I smiled, for it reminded me of how the men had worried when the children were born. Said children would hardly miss me in the meantime. Well, Robert would, but a bit of separation would be good for him.

“Dr. Bennett is a remarkable healer,” I commented. Any decent witch could heal a broken bone, but to do so this completely and quickly was impressive.

“He is,” she agreed, a blush pinking her cheeks. “I am sorry that you were injured. I came as fast as I could, and—”

“Don’t worry yourself over it. I knew you would come to my aid, and the injuries were easily fixed. And I apologize for anything Simon may have said while I was unconscious. He has the social graces of a badger.”

Justine chuckled. “It is kind of you to be so forgiving, but your safety was my responsibility. He could have snapped your neck.”

“That would hardly be a useful interrogation technique. He wanted to know who I was, and he harmed me when I refused to answer. Killing me would not have answered his question.”

“That is very pragmatic of you. Did he say anything of interest?” Justine seemed impressed by my cool head, and I in turn was pleased that I had impressed a guardian.

“No, but I had a vision.”

With some aid from Justine I managed to sit up and relate my tale, what little there was of it. I wished I had found out who I was in the dream, for that information would surely have helped our investigation a great deal. We had located another piece of the puzzle, but did not have anything to join it to yet.

Justine fidgeted with one golden curl as she pondered the vision. “Odd. Master necromancers are supposed to be sterile. Mr. Paris could hardly father a child. Is the same true of chroniclers?”

A lump of emotion caught in my throat, and I coughed lightly to clear it. I suspected that the sterility was the reason Michael had rushed to embrace the ritual. After nearly losing both me and our son during Robert’s birth, I knew that Michael was determined to avoid putting me in that sort of danger again. “Yes, it is. Perhaps he and his lover are seeking a way around that, but he did not have the energy of a necromancer.”

“How would you define him then?”

I frowned. “I’m not sure. He was very powerful, but that made him difficult to read. Perhaps a sorcerer? Or a summoner? Do you think he could be a demon?”

“It would explain his affinity for shadows. You’re certain he was not merely powerful for a necromancer?”

With a weary sigh I rubbed my eyes—my constant headache had worsened. “It is possible. I haven’t examined a great many master necromancers. If Mr. Paris had just fed, then that may have affected his energy. Simon’s aura is always strongest after he has fed.”

“I will contact Lady Brigid tonight to see if she is familiar with Mr. Paris. For now, you should rest. We can continue our discussion tomorrow. It has been a long night.” Justine smiled reassuringly at me, and I nodded in agreement. I was weary, and morning would bring a fresh perspective. “Would you like to speak with your husband now?”

I smiled dryly. “I can manage a few minutes, but not a lecture.”

Justine left, and I enjoyed a few moments of peace before Michael arrived. My heart lifted at the sight of him as he hurried to my side. He clasped the hand of my uninjured arm, and I fought the urge to flinch at his icy touch. I wasn’t certain I would ever become used to his change in temperature.

“I’m quite recovered,” I assured him.

“You could have been killed. I never should have let you out of my sight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It was a poetry salon. There was no way to know I would be injured, and I’m nearly recovered already. It was certainly no more dangerous than childbirth, which you put me through four times.”

He chuckled, though it was a hollow sound. I glanced at Simon, expecting a sermon on the inappropriateness of my actions, but he remained silent as he sulked near the door.

“But now I need to rest. You’re welcome to fuss over me more tomorrow.”

Michael nodded, and he ignored his mentor’s warning glare and leaned in and kissed me goodnight. My chest tightened and I fought the instinct to pull him close and kiss him again. I wanted to believe there would be more time for kisses in the future, but the fear that there wouldn’t be haunted my thoughts until sleep overtook me.

With no children to tend to, I slept to an indecently late hour and was pampered with breakfast in bed. Michael and Simon were shut into an interior room to avoid the sunlight streaming in through the windows, so I was left in peace.

Alone in the library, I closed my eyes and set aside the book I had been reading as I attempted some simple calming exercises to ease my constant headache. Miss Dubois’s home was surrounded by layers of wards that added to the assault of spells already wearing on me.

“Are you unwell?” Michael asked.

I yelped, startled, and opened my eyes to discover both chroniclers watching me with concern from across the room. I hadn’t heard either of them enter.

“As well as I can be in this wretched city,” I muttered in reply.

“You don’t care for London?” Simon inquired.

“No. It is filthy, overcrowded, noisy, and I cannot go five steps without running into a spell of some sort. It’s like living inside a hive of angry bees.”

“Then why stay? Why not return home now?” Michael asked. “We can see to the rest of the investigation on our own.”

I choked on a laugh and made a sound like a strangled hiccough. Home. As though that would miraculously resolve the problems with our situation. Folding my hands in my lap, I studied Michael. “If someone took Lily, or Meg, wouldn’t you want the people looking for her to do everything in their power to find her?”

“Of course,” he replied.

“Then do not ask me to walk away from this investigation. These women deserve justice.”

“And that is not a matter for you to handle,” Simon said.

“Just what is it that you think a seer should handle? Clearly not matters that involve the Order of St. Jerome. Do you think my magic is best served by looking after the children and seeing to the needs of the household?”

“Those are the traditional duties of a wife and a mother,” he retorted.

I thought of Lady Brigid and her assertion that men preferred to forget that the goddess was a warrior in addition to a mother. “Are there female chroniclers?” I asked, suddenly curious.

Simon’s eyes widened in surprise. “Not that I am aware of. I have never met one.”

“One might wonder why the gods gave women magic at all, if we are not intended to use it.” Shaking my head, I sighed in disappointment and changed the subject. “Why didn’t you tell me you were censured for killing Mr. Farrell?”

“What?” Michael asked. Judging by his shock, I gathered he hadn’t known either. Interesting.

Simon studied me. “Where did you hear of this?”

For a moment I considered lying, or at least misleading, but then I decided the truth would be worth watching his reaction to it. “I spoke with Lady Brigid, of the necromancer council.”

Priceless. I’d never seen Simon so instantly animated.

“You did
what
?” he exclaimed.

Justine cleared her throat loudly from the doorway and then gracefully glided past Michael and Simon to sit beside me. Dr. Bennett followed and took a chair near us.

“Emily accompanied Dr. Bennett and me to a necromancer gathering so that she could read the council members’ auras and determine whether or not they were lying to protect the killer. They aren’t. They have no idea who the killer is, and this worries them,” she said matter-of-factly. “We were all granted safe passage, and Emily was never in any danger.”

“You…” Michael sputtered. “Emily! This is beyond irresponsible!”

“It made perfect sense. I was in a position to help, so I did. Plus I’ve had so much experience reading your aura it was hardly a challenge,” I said to Simon, who continued to appear distressed. “You haven’t answered my original question.”

“It didn’t concern you. The necromancers took umbrage at my involvement, Lord Willowbrook explained the circumstances, and the matter was dropped. The two of you were on your tour after your wedding, so I saw no reason to inform you on your return.”

I exchanged a glance with Justine, and though she lacked a seer’s awareness she was shrewd enough to note my annoyance. She smiled politely at them. “Gentlemen, if you would both be so kind as to take a seat, we will discuss our findings.”

“How does your arm feel today?” Dr. Bennett asked me.

“It feels quite fine, thank you.”

“It was a clean break. The bones should continue to heal if left alone,” Dr. Bennett pronounced.

“Which is an excellent reason why you should return home,” Michael said.

Ignoring him, I turned to Justine. “What have you learned?”

Justine glanced at her chronicler guests. “Would anyone like a glass of wine before we begin?”

“I would, thank you.” Normally I avoid alcohol, for imbibing too much interfered with my abilities, but one glass would do no harm.

When we were all settled, Justine began. “I met with Lady Brigid, and she confirmed that they have no record of Mr. Paris, which I assume is an alias. They also have no record of anyone matching his description, apprentice or master.”

“Could he have been disguised?” Simon asked.

“Doubtful. I would have seen through it, as I did his attempt to conceal himself,” I replied.

“Did you see through my glamour?” Justine asked, and I nodded. “Impressive. For the time being I have given Mr. Paris’s description to each of the local councils and warned them of his hunting habits and his preferred type of victim.”