Seleste deLaney - [Badlands 02] (15 page)

Chapter Fifteen

The scene in the queen’s throne room fluctuated between fear and joy, a visual echo of Carson’s earlier turmoil.

“If this is a throne room, I regret every one of my childhood dreams about being a princess,” Henrietta whispered.

Carson could see why. The walls here, like the rest of the fortress, were stone lined with the queen’s glowing lichen. No pomp. No circumstance. Not even a proper throne—just a chair at the front of the room where Laurette sat.

Still, the command emanating from the queen was palpable. The moment she sat down and gazed on them, the room fell to hushed silence. “As Cy has returned, I expected to see my sister. Instead, you are here alone. While I’m not unhappy to see you, Henrietta, I must ask where Everette is.”

With every eye in the room turned toward her, Henrietta stepped forward and stood tall, shoulders square, head high. The politician’s daughter for a moment. “We were caught in a rockslide caused by one of your mountainside traps, and she was injured. When...Cy found us, Ever sent me to have the cougar return with help.”

Captain Pierce’s face had paled when the puma slunk through the room to sit by Laurette’s side, but it went positively white at Henri’s words. “Where is she? Will she be okay?”

The puma snarled and the room fell silent once more as Laurette scratched the cat behind its ears. “Catherine, Spencer, form a team to go after her immediately. Cy found her once, she will lead you back now.”

While the queen whispered to the animal, Henri grabbed Spencer’s arm. “Whatever you do, do not remove the tourniquet or she
will
die.”

Once the captain left, Carson leaned closer to Henri. “You left her with a tourniquet on? She knows to loosen it periodically, right?”

Her chin lifted a little higher and she stared straight ahead at the wall of harsh, bare rock. “She can’t loosen it.”

“But—”

“I know precisely what it means and, if she survives, she’ll know soon enough too.”

He gaped at her, but the only reaction was the slight tightening of her jaw. Before he had the chance to say any more, the queen addressed him. “Marshal Alexander, with Dr. Mason here, I assume your search can proceed without delay?”

Obviously while he’d been outside wallowing, Spencer or one of the others had filled her in on the issue. “Yes. It’s my hope we’ll have what we need by morning and be able to depart.” Knowing it was uncouth in most societies but not caring one iota, he brazenly met the queen’s gaze. “Assuming your people have found Tobias St. Clair or his body.”

She reached down, moving as if to stroke the puma, but the animal had left with the search party. Her long-fingered hand twirled in the air before coming to rest on the arm of her throne. “As I’m sure you’ve been informed, I cannot guarantee he
will
be found. What I can say is Mr. St. Clair told me much the same story as Spencer did earlier—slight differences to hide his part in everything, obviously, but he did warn us that others would be coming for the research hidden here.”

Women. Even here, they were too damned trusting of a pretty face in an expensive suit. “And that means what, Your Highness? That I have it all wrong and he’s an upstanding citizen?”

He could feel Henrietta stiffen next to him, and more than one pair of eyebrows had risen on the women standing along the sides of the room. He didn’t care. The moment for subtleties and politeness had passed a long time ago, and he wasn’t taking any chances by sliding back into that tactic.

Queen Laurette didn’t react to his tone at all. She simply sat still, her face impassive, until the minor disturbance passed through the crowd. “No, Marshal. What I am suggesting you take into account, if you manage to apprehend Mr. St. Clair, is that while he should, of course, be punished for his part in the crimes committed, a desperate man will do many foolish things. And a wise man may learn to make amends.”

She didn’t understand. People like St. Clair didn’t change. They looked out for themselves, nothing more. So what if he’d noticed the tide shifting? It didn’t mean he wouldn’t drift back to the deep if given the chance. But obviously, Carson couldn’t expect as much help from the queen as he’d hoped.

“Is that all?”

With a quiet smile on her lips, she nodded and waved toward the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you from your work. By all means, carry on.”

Spinning on his heel, he rested his hand on Henri’s back and steered her toward the hallway. At least now they could do something productive. The queen’s voice stopped him at the door.

“Oh and, Marshal Alexander, if Mr. St. Clair is found alive, I respectfully request he be sent into the Badlands after his conviction.”

The muscles in his cheeks twitched. Sure. Send him here so the queen could baby him. He wanted to see St. Clair dead or rotting in a Union prison for leading him on this ridiculous chase. “I’ll be sure to mention that to the courts.”

Without another word, he led Henri into the hallway, ushering her as quickly as he could.

A hundred yards after turning into a different hall, she dug in her heels. “Unless you know some sort of shortcut to the storage room, you’re going the wrong way.” Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at him. “Not that I’m all that fond of him, but I do think Laurette is right. As much of an idiot as Tobias has been through all this, the Badlands is the best place for him.”

“Not you too,” he growled. “Henrietta, you know better. Men like him are more interested in power than right.”

“And what better place to change that attitude than one where he will lose every ounce of his power until he grasps the idea of right?”

“You mean what better place than one where he’ll spin his web of lies and convince everyone he’s harmless even as he kills them?” She huffed out a breath and stared at him like a patient parent waiting for a child to finish a tantrum.
Hell’s
bells
. “Just take me to the storage room so we can do this.”

With a graceful shrug, Henri turned and walked back the direction they’d come. The way the soft suede breeches hugged her body, it was almost impossible for him not to watch her hips sway as she moved. He tore his gaze away and focused on the back of her neck instead. At the spot where a single curl had fallen loose and caressed her skin like a lover.

Damn
it
to
the
seven
—
the
nine
hells
.

He stepped up next to her. Feeling the heat of her body so close was preferable to his reactions at the view from behind. “I have to know. How did that snake get you to trust him at all?”

“Whatever you think, Carson, you’re wrong. I’m hardly the type to fall for the first handsome face I see.” She altered her path slightly to put a bit of distance between them, but he didn’t miss the flush rising in her cheeks. “We never really trusted him. None of us, including me. However, I do believe he wants to get away from this Lupo character.”

Carson hadn’t realized how close they’d been until she moved—close enough to touch. A fact the society girl in her would find completely improper. Not that it had mattered before, and not like something so insignificant would deter him. He lengthened his stride until he walked next to her again, his fingers brushing hers as their arms swung. He never moved closer than that, and though she clenched her hand into a fist, she didn’t move away either.

In the storeroom, she veered away from him to the opposite side of the stacks of boxes and crates. As Henri removed the lid from the first one, she said, “I want to get rid of as much dangerous material as possible. What precisely do you need for your case?”

“Anything that would connect your father to the mafia or Ignazio Lupo himself and any research regarding the implanted enhancements that created Lupo’s super-soldiers. In short, if it looks like it might be evidence, pull it.” He jerked the lid off a crate only to find that the contents had already been rummaged through.
St
.
Clair
.

“You need to understand a couple things. First, the moment Ever is returned, she is my priority, not this search.” Carson nodded. Obviously, saving the princess’s life took precedence. “Second, as I said, I won’t turn all the research over to you.”

He spun around, the lichen fading with his sudden, harsh movement. “Henrietta...”

Lifting her chin in the way he couldn’t decide if he found infuriating or endearing, Henrietta met his gaze, her own blue eyes as stony as his probably were. “I’ve heard about how much power that research gave to your Mr. Lupo and his men.
No
one
should have that kind of power. Not the mafia, but not our government either. I will go through everything we find with you, but we will destroy anything that could allow the Union to replicate the experiments.”

“Are you saying you don’t trust the United States government?”

“I’m saying my father, the very man who created this madness, was part of that same government for far too long. I’m saying I don’t trust anyone.” She turned back to her open box, her hair a golden halo around her. “Quite frankly,
Marshal
, you need me to decipher most of these papers. It wasn’t a request. It’s a requirement for my cooperation with your search. Do we have an accord?”

This wasn’t a Philadelphia society girl or the senator’s precocious daughter. While the softness remained visible, there was a certain strength beneath it. Not a woman to be dismissed. Not to be trifled with either. Every moment they spent together made her earn a little more of his respect. This golden butterfly had a stinger.

“Fine. And it’s Carson. For you it’s always been Carson, you know that.”

The hues of the lichen shifted, but even that couldn’t hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. “Then I suppose I’ll have to allow you to continue calling me Henrietta.”

“Nah. I think I’ll stick to Henri, thanks.” Her back stiffened, and he couldn’t help but smile as he returned to the contents of the crate in front of him. He might respect her, but part of that meant keeping her honest and not letting her slip into some other “more proper” persona. He wanted to know the real Henrietta Mason.

Even if she ended up killing him in the process.

* * *

Tobias staggered down the slope, his torn trousers catching on one of the dead branches littering the ground. All his plans had blown up, leaving nothing but the scrap of paper in his pocket behind. The damn explosion had cost him his mount. And left him bleeding. He wiped blood from his eyes—again—searching for the path.

Even without the haze of scarlet, the trees wavered in his vision. He peeled his tongue from the roof of his mouth.
There
was
a
river
somewhere
,
wasn’t
there
?
There
had
to
be
. Once he thought of his thirst, he couldn’t focus on anything else.

Inhaling dust from the explosion had dried what little moisture was in his mouth, and that was hours ago. He tried to remember what happened since then and could only recall snippets. Being thrown from the horse. Rushing past trees. Noises brought on by the darkness. More running. More falling.

The
path
.
I
should
look
for
the
path
.

He leaned against a tree, catching his breath. Each inhalation burned like the dust had set fire to his throat. Blood ran onto his face again. Pushing off from the tree, he tried to tug off his jacket, but the movement upset his already precarious balance. His fingers reached for the tree but just scraped the bark as he teetered and, tripping over his own feet as he fought to stay upright, tumbled down the slope.

Briars caught in his hair and clothes. More dead branches snapped as he rolled over them, the slope increasing. Obstacles impacted with him, not slowing his descent at all. Low bushes. Sharp sticks. A rock that made something in his arm snap. Dirt filled his mouth as he opened it to scream. His body crashed sidelong into a tree, providing another agony, but at least it slowed him down.

The slope evened out, and when his body came to rest at last, Tobias found himself on cleared dirt. Still able to move his head, he swung it from side to side, checking his surroundings. What he meant as a laugh came out a choked sob. He’d found the path after all.

He only tried to stand once. Hitting the tree had done something to his leg. It wouldn’t support his weight, not even to crawl. Certain death would find him right here on the mountain. Tobias collapsed and cradled his broken arm, waiting for the animals or dehydration to finish him.

Moments...hours later, he stirred as something trickled down his cheek to coat his cracked and bleeding lips. His swollen tongue poked from his mouth, searching for it.

Water.

Expecting rain, he forced his aching muscles to roll him onto his back and opened his mouth as wide as it would go. The deluge that poured could have drowned him if his body hadn’t decided it wasn’t ready to give up on life quite yet. He coughed and sputtered until he could breathe again.

The sun kissed the path. Then a man leaned over him, blocking the worst of the glare. “Hey there, buddy, you’re not looking so good. Need a hand?”

Silently rejoicing that help had found him at last, Tobias reached up with his uninjured arm.

The other man gripped his forearm and yanked him to his feet, rapidly pressing the canteen to his lips. Only when he took a breath from sucking down the water did Tobias notice the man’s strong features: chiseled jaw, heavy brows, straight nose, olive skin...and the clockwork implant where his nostrils should have been. Gears spun as the thing sampled the air, scenting it like a bloodhound. The leg that barely held Tobias gave way and he tumbled to the ground again.

“Hey, Capo,” the man yelled. “Think we found that stray you were looking for. Don’t think he’ll be running off again anytime soon.”