The Black Lotus (Night Flower) (29 page)

Disorientated, Melissa almost missed the attacking figure. Her eyes were heavy with sleep and the near dark of the room made it hard to see. Yet even as she struggled towards wakefulness, she could sense that something was wrong. A cool breeze played off her skin raising gooseflesh and she turned looking for the source of the draught. Then she heard it, the hissed snarl that drew her eyes up in time. Glancing up, curiosity turned to shock as she watched the dark figure dive at her. As though in slow motion she took in the details, the black, featureless clothing, a scarf wrapped around the face so it hid all but the eyes and the last feature, the one that drew her eyes more than any other, a knife, glimmering dully in the moonlight from window. Fully awake now and reacting instinctively, she managed to roll to the left, avoiding the slashing blow from the thin knife as she tangled herself in the bedclothes. The sleeves of her nightgown however were not so lucky and the sharp blade tore through the fabric.

“MARCUS!” She shouted for her brother as she rolled again, struggling to manoeuvre through the sheets which were wrapping around her legs and slowing her down. A hand, strong and pitiless reached out and closed around her nightshirt pulling her forward. She felt the cotton rip as she was dragged across the bed. “MARCUS!” She screamed again almost sobbing as her fingers frantically reached up and scratched wildly. A muffled oath burst from her attacker as she raked her fingers into his eyes. With one powerful blow he pushed her back onto the bed before raising the knife again.

“NO!” Almost crying with fear, she threw herself forward, seizing hold of his wrist in a vain attempt to forestall the descending knife.
She could feel the strength in his arms as they wrestled and she knew she could not hold him for long. Biting and punching, the will to survive lent Melissa more strength than she thought possible, yet it would not be enough. He was stronger and once more he pushed her back, his fist connecting with her jaw and sending her reeling. He dove onto the bed and pinned her, raising the knife once more.

“
Miss?” The door burst open to reveal Jane, who let out a scream at the sight of her mistress in danger and raced across the room. Throwing her matronly frame onto the man, she seized hold of his arm. The brief struggle that ensued between her attacker and Jane gave Melissa time to reach the edge of the bed. Stretching out with grasping fingers, she reached for the only weapon available. Sat on the small bedside table was an unlit candle in its metal cradle. Jane gave a scream as she was thrust off and thrown to the floor. He turned back to the bed and Melissa, who had just whirled around. Grasped in her fingers was the metal holder and candle. Without hesitation Melissa thrust the candleholder straight at her attacker’s head. A grunt of pain escaped the figure and the knife slashed out wildly.

“MELISSA!” Her brother rushed into the room and the attacker took flight, diving from the bed and racing across the room for the window. Without even breaking stride, the man dove out, moments later they heard the muted thud as the body hit the floor outside. Jane let out a shriek of pure horror and Melissa gaped, staring at the window in disbelief. The figure hadn’t even paused before the large panes of glass.

“What the deuce!”  Marcus rushed to the window and stared out. “God’s teeth!” He swore, pulling his head back inside.

“Is he dead?” Melissa spoke, her voice trembling and out of breath as she pulled the shredded nightgown closer to her body with shaking fingers.

“No!” Marcus pulled away from the window and strode across the room, his rapier loosely held in his fingers. “The bastard’s running away.”

“What?” Melissa flew over to the window and stared out. Beneath the window, the broken remnants of the window shimmered in the moonlight and there was no sign of a body. Casting her eyes around in disbelief, Melissa caught sight of her assailant running along the yew path.

“Impossible!” Watching as the figure headed across the lawn with not even a limp to show that they had dived from a
first storey window. “How?” Turning, she caught sight of Marcus heading for the door.

“Where are
you going?” Melissa felt her heart leap into her chest. Her assailant had walked free from a fall that should have broken his legs. What could her brother hope to do against someone like that?

“Jane!” Marcus stopped her flow of words as he called to the maid. “Fetch Jeb and Simon, we’re going after him!”

“He just dived out of the window.” Melissa called after him,

“And?” He glanced over at her, at the torn nightgown and tangled hair. “He would have…” Casting his eyes downward, he stopped talking. “No arguments Melly, you stay here with Jane.” He nodded at the shattered window. “Close those shutters and move into a safer part of the house.” He watched her start forward. “At least until we make sure that he isn’t left on the grounds alright.”

“Melissa!” Her parents rushed into the room, eyes wild. What the devil is going on here?” Her father’s thunderous voice rose above all, as he took in the broken window, Melissa’s state of dress and Marcus’s rapier.

“Someone broke in.” Marcus answered shortly as he pushed through his parents to the door. “They had a knife.”

“Oh lord Melissa.” Her mother clasped her hand to her forehead and sank into the chair.

“I’m going after him.”

“Not alone you’re not!” Their father uttered shortly as he turned with purpose towards the main body of the house. Marcus looked as though he would protest, but after a moment he nodded and followed his father out of the room. As they left, a strange silence settled over the room. Melissa took several deep breaths, feeling the adrenaline from the struggle fade slightly as normality kicked in. Were it not for the shattered window and tumbled bed covers, she would have thought that the whole episode was a dream. Behind her, her mother finally got herself under control and stood up.

“Come on dear, let’s get you downstairs.” Melissa’s mother slid her arm about her shoulders and led her towards the door. Nodding, Melissa followed; a strange numb sensation drifting over her as the realisation of what had happened began to sink in. In silence, she traipsed downstairs after her mother to await the return of her father and Marcus.

Chapter
30:

Justin reached the edge of the De Vire estate and cantered over the boundary, heading for the large manor in the distance. The moon flooded the grounds highlighting each yew and elm in silver. He cast his gaze over the gardens, heart beating hard within his chest as he looked for his quarry.

A loud meaty thump drew his attention and he turned towards the sound. On the gravelled walkway that ran the length of the house, a man lay broken. Justin took a step forward and the man stirred, slowly dragged himself to his feet and started to move. A fast walk turned into a loping run and then the man was sprinting. “John.” He murmured, watching the familiar figure run across the garden. Justin glanced up at the second floor window and his heart stopped beating. “Dear god no.” He whispered brokenly as he watched the figure head through the hedges with uncanny ease and speed.

“Come on.” He nudged the horse forward and broke into a canter. Beneath the dappled moonlit, he urged the horse onwards, catching up with the figure as he reached the yew avenue.

“
John!” His voice whipped out angrily as he vaulted from the horse’s back, slamming into the shadowed figure. They both fell to the ground, rolling over and over in the dirt.

“You bastard!” Justin managed to drag himself upright and he aimed a heavy kick to his opponent’s stomach. “How dare you come here? How dare you draw her into this?”

“I?” John ignored the searing pain to his stomach and stood up. In the silvery light, his dark brown locks appeared almost black. “I didn’t bring her into this, you did, the moment you turned your corrupted eyes on her.” They circled each other warily, both looking for openings in the other’s defence. “You don’t deserve a moment’s peace.” Noise distantly erupted from the front of the house and John moved, his right hand slamming into Justin’s nose making his eyes water as his left dove for the lotus at his throat.

“No.” Justin struggled through the watering eyes and numbing pain in his nose to seize
John’s hand. For a long moment they wrestled, John’s clenched fist holding the enamel brooch tight within his fist as Justin aimed punches at his side, face and stomach. With a sharp twist, John wrenched the brooch free, tearing Justin’s shirt at his neck. His right hand snaked around Justin’s throat closing into a deathlike grip. 

“You’re not as strong as me Justin and you know it.” John ignored the blows that rained down on his side as leaned in and whispered softly into his ear. Justin raised his hands to prise himself free as John’s grip grew stronger making spots dance in his vision as he began to black out. Through the haze of he saw John flick the lid of the locket open. Beneath the silver and gray light of the moon the pictures within were dark and indistinct. He knew what John was about to do and in desperation he used all his strength to claw at the hand fixed at his throat. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, he succeeded in freeing himself just in time to see John tear through the picture on the left hand side of the locket with his thumbnail. Justin gasped, the shock of the connection between him and his donor breaking, catching him like a punch to the gut. “Especially not now.”

John
released him and let him fall to the floor as he threw the garments he had been wearing at Justin’s feet.  Shaking from the separation, Justin tried to pull himself upright, but John placed a foot on his chest and forced him back to the floor as he glanced back towards the house and smiled. “Enjoy yourself Justin.” He smiled as he reached up and seized the reins of Justin’s horse. Vaulting his way onto its back, he waved the lotus locket in Justin’s direction before touching his heels to the horse’s sides.

“
John!” Justin dragged himself upright and started after him, a staggering figure in muddy and dishevelled clothing. Behind him, the sounds of a pursuing crowd grew louder. John disappeared into the copse, leaving him alone for the baying mob that followed.

“That’s him!” Within moments he was surrounded and seized, several heavy punches landed on his already battered body and he fell to the ground, unable to heal from the wounds without the charm. He was pulled upright and struck again, fists flying in from all directions as he tried to protect his head and body.

“Alright that’s enough,” From the depths of the crowd, Marcus De Vire pushed his way to the front and stared down at his captive.

“Lestrade..” His face was grave as he stared down at Justin. “I might have known.” Marcus drew back his fist and the blow sent Justin’s head into a spin. “That’s for my sister.” He looked at the men holding Justin and nodded. “
Get him into the stables.”

“Marcus” Justin found his voice. “It wasn’t me. I would never hurt her.
Please let me know she’s alright?”

“Don’t you dare speak to me
about my sister.” Marcus whirled around and there was hate in his eyes. “I should kill you right now but I think you have a date with a noose. You can’t wriggle your way out of this one.”

Justin struggled futilely against the hands holding him as he urged Marcus to listen to him. “I saw the real assailant; he beat me and left me here. Damn it man, I’m being set up.”

“You must think me a fool.” Marcus replied, turning back to the house. “We saw no one but you. Your estate is next
door; don’t conjure phantoms to explain away your guilt.” He turned to the stable hands and waved them away. “Get him out of my sight.”

As one, the grooms pulled Justin to his feet and they dragged him across the ground towards the large stone building that housed the De Vire horses. Bodily they threw him into an empty stall and lashed his hands and feet together. Leaving him in a heap on the floor, they walked out, leaving a man on guard. Justin tried to move, but the grooms had skilfully hogtied him, leaving him little room to manoeuvre. As the reality of his situation sank him, he wondered how he could have been such a fool. Alistair would
have played mind games but even he would not have murdered innocents purely to inconvenience him. Really that’s all it was, John meant to see him hanged or sent on permanent exile, depending how De Vire wished to handle it. Whatever the odds, it would make it impossible for him to continue operating in England. Even if Edward and Marcus De Vire allowed him to run to France, he would not be able to return to England for many years. He closed his eyes and felt his head hit the stable wall. Melissa was in terrible danger now and the only way he could save her would mean an uncomfortable death.