Whisper the Dead (The Lovegrove Legacy) (27 page)

She walked out into a morning that had grown bright and warm, utterly at odds with the fear lurking in every cranny and corner. She saw it in the gargoyles snarling at every passing shadow, in ropes of silver bells hung from iron gates, and in rowan branches tied to door knockers with red ribbon.

She hadn’t bothered with a lady’s maid or a footman; what was the point, when Tobias was surely stalking her even now? And she found it rather liberating to walk alone, despite the state of affairs in magical London. She couldn’t imagine Sophie would risk being in such a busy thoroughfare, not now that every Keeper in the Order was hunting for her. She’d given herself away by stealing Lilybeth’s bones. The Order wasn’t able to keep her escape a secret, not while still pacifying witching society. And with the sunlight slanting through the columns and the freshly washed shop windows, it was easy to imagine it entirely impossible for someone to steal the bones of dead girls in the first place.

The shop was bustling with customers, crowding elbow to elbow against the counter. Two clerks rushed back and forth, weighing herbs and measuring out tonics. The shelves of the apothecary were crowded with glass bottles of tonics, flower waters, dried rosebuds, and one cat. She inhaled the comforting scents of lavender, mint, and something more medicinal.

She turned sideways as a clerk approached her, her hair half falling out of her chignon. “We are entirely out of salt and rowan berries,” she said before Gretchen could speak.

“Quickly, I want to get home,” a shopper interrupted, eyes darting from side to side. He and nearly everyone else inside the shop was thinking about protective spells, some more successful than others. Gretchen heard it in the escalating whispering.

“This young lady was before you, sir,” the clerk said apologetically. Gretchen handed her list over. The clerk scanned the
parchment quickly. “I can help you with everything but the Saint-John’s-wort. It can be gathered only on Midsummer’s eve, if you’re using it for spellwork.” She lifted the lid off an enormous glass jar filled with dried leaves and used a decorative wooden spoon to scoop some into a cloth bag. “Metal spoons have iron in them sometimes,” she explained at Gretchen’s examination of the spoon. It was covered in tiny carved lotus flowers. “Or silver. Both of which can interfere with a plant’s magical properties.”

The clerk’s steady voice soothed the whispering in Gretchen’s brain. She took a deep breath.
Hush
, she thought at them.
These aren’t my spells and you’re driving me mad
. Surprisingly, the volume dimmed.

“You there.” A woman in a fringed velvet pelisse snapped her fingers imperiously. Gretchen recognized her as a countess but couldn’t remember her name. Her mother had memorized all of
Debrett’s
and knew every peer in England. She’d made Gretchen recite them before dinner every night the summer she was twelve. She’d promptly forgotten them all as soon as possible.

“I am sure you meant to say please,” Gretchen remarked loudly. “Being a lady of such elegant refinement.”

The countess sucked in a breath, her nostrils constricting so that they looked pinched. “I
beg
your pardon.”

“Is that Gretchen Thorn?” someone whispered loudly. “She found one of the empty graves!”

The resulting chatter made Gretchen sigh. She leaned on the counter, resting her chin on her hand. “Wonderful, it’s just like being back at the academy.”

“I am sure I am more deserving of your attention than a Lovegrove,” the countess insisted haughtily. “I require a full jar of rowan berries and several herbs your assistant says you have run out of. That is simply unacceptable.”

“I am sure we can find something just as effective,” the clerk assured her. “If you’ll wait just one moment, your ladyship.” She was brisk and efficient and slid several paper-wrapped packages across the counter. Gretchen handed her a coin. “Shall we have these delivered, my lady?”

Gretchen tilted her head. “Actually, if you could give them over to the gentleman with the very disapproving blue eyes waiting just outside, he’ll carry them for me.” If Tobias was going to continue to follow her about instead of walking at her side, especially after what they’d just been through, she intended to put him to good use.

The countess launched into an immediate and condescending lecture when the clerk didn’t offer help quite to her satisfaction. “I’m sure my grimoire said hyssop. And it’s been in my family since Hastings fell, young lady. I certainly trust it more than some shopgirl.”

“Your grimoire’s wrong,” Gretchen said, pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to alleviate the sudden chorus of a dozen hysterical witches in her head. “Hyssop won’t work,” she told the countess. “You should listen to her.”

She let the door shut firmly behind her, glad to be back outside. She hurried across the bridge, avoiding the curious glances and outright pointing of those who recognized her as the girl who’d fallen in an open grave. The regular streets of London
were equally crowded with shoppers and vendors selling everything from buttered muffins and baked potatoes to posies of spring violets. She couldn’t see Tobias over the sea of crowned hats, nor Sophie nor anything untoward.

In truth, she was a little disappointed. Not over Sophie, of course, but because she had a hundred questions for Tobias. How did one go about changing into a wolf? Did it hurt? Did he retain knowledge of himself? Was it delicious to run as fast as four legs could carry you?

She glanced in the shop windows as she passed, noting a huge umbrella stand in the shape of an elephant. If she purchased something unwieldy and heavy and sent it out for him to carry, would it needle him into talking to her?

On second thought, why wait?

Determined, she turned sharply, hoping to catch him off guard. She managed to knock into a footman with a stack of parcels and an old woman who poked her savagely with the tip of her umbrella. She couldn’t see Tobias anywhere. He must have already stepped back into the shadows. “Well, we’ll just see about that, won’t we?” she muttered to herself.

She marched back down the street, peering into all of the alleys and each shop, even the tobacconist who was not pleased to see a woman in his doorway.

Still no Tobias, and no other Keeper.

Feeling suddenly concerned, she quickened her step. She knew enough about Tobias to know that if there was no one else following her, he was on duty. And if he was on duty and not to be found, then something was terribly wrong.

The carriage sitting quietly by the side of the curb shouldn’t have caught her attention.

Except that Tobias leaned against the window, eyes squinting at the single ray of sunlight that found its way between the edges of the curtains he twitched shut. She flung open the door and clambered into the carriage before the driver could stop her. “Tobias Lawless, you scared me half to death, you—” She broke off, outraged. There was stubble on his jaw and his cravat was half falling out of his pocket. His throat was exposed, as was the smooth skin under his collarbones. “Are you
drunk
?”

He scrubbed at his face. “Not now, Gretchen.”

She sniffed the air gingerly but didn’t catch the sharp burn of whiskey or gin. She knew precisely what Godric smelled like after a night of drinking in gaming hells and men’s clubs, and Tobias didn’t smell like that in the least. He smelled like some kind of flower and rain. His hair was tousled and wild and his linen shirt was wrinkled and untucked. Horrified, she sat back hard against the seat, embarrassment burning her cheeks. “Were you with a
girl
?”

Not that it was any of her business, of course. It shouldn’t matter in the least to her. In fact, it
didn’t
. She was only curious. She’d have been curious about anyone she found in this state, especially taking into account his usual elegance. Her traitorous heart sped up, calling her a liar. She didn’t need the smirking smug dead witches in her head to tell her.

He clenched his teeth suddenly, his jaw clenching violently. “Go away, Gretchen.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you bled good manners, Lawless.”

He shuddered, a strange sort of growl rumbling in his chest. There was the sound of fabric ripping and the seam popping on his sleeve. His teeth flashed white and sharp.

“I mean it,” he barked, bracing himself with one hand against the window, and his booted feet on the seat beside her.
“Get out!”

Too late.

She was suddenly trapped in a small, plush carriage with a wolf with burning blue eyes.

Under normal circumstances, if those even existed anymore, Gretchen would have been overjoyed to see Tobias transform into a wolf. He was beautiful—pale fur and eyes too blue to be natural. His legs were surprisingly long; his fur brushing her skirts as she tried to inch away. He was so large he took up the entire seat and towered over her. His white paws were as big as her hands.

The transformation happened so quickly she’d barely had time to process it. He shimmered like heat lightning. The violence of it lingered in the small space between them. She could hear the driver struggling to control the horses, who clearly sensed a predator. The carriage rocked back and forth, tilting dangerously. Gretchen flattened one hand against the side. His lips lifted off sharp teeth that made her cringe. It took no imagination at all to picture them grinding deer and rabbit bones.

Her
bones, if she wasn’t careful.

She considered leaping for the door, but all that would
accomplish would be to release a wolf into the streets of London. And she’d promised Tobias she’d keep his secret safe.

Still, she’d leaned toward the door without realizing it, and he barked once, sharply. It was so loud and sudden, it was like a slap to the face. She froze, trying not to stare at him openly. Hadn’t she read in some library or another that dogs attacked when stared at? She had no idea if dogs and wolves reacted the same way, and she really had no desire to find out.

There was something of Tobias the man in the blue eyes, even surrounded with fur. Her heart thumped a little less like a cannon and more like a misfiring pistol. He moved restlessly, uncomfortably. The cramped carriage smelled like a forest, like snow and pine and danger.

But she wasn’t frightened anymore.

Especially when he whimpered. Swallowing, she reached out a hand, moving as slowly as she knew how. Please God, don’t let her lose her fingers. He whined in his throat again, shifting. She froze. “Don’t be cross like Tobias,” she whispered. “Nice wolf.”

He was panting, front paws scrabbling on the floor as he tried to find purchase. The carriage rattled violently, stopping and starting. His ruined clothes tumbled onto her boots. The horses whinnied and snorted. “Don’t mind them,” she said gently, stripping off one of her gloves. “They think you’re going to eat them. Possibly, I shouldn’t give you any ideas.” She itched to touch him, his fur looked thick enough to sink into. His black nose flared. “But I know you’re a nice wolf,” she continued soothingly.

Her fingertips sank into thick fur, brushing warm, muscular flesh underneath. He was as warm and soft as she’d imagined. His breath was hot on her arm. He nudged her with his wet nose. The carriage lurched again. Her stomach dropped, sickeningly.

“I think I like you better as a wolf,” she murmured. “But unfortunately, I really need you to be Tobias again.”

Her fingers were stroking soft thick fur. She froze as it retracted and then she was touching warm skin.

The wolf was Tobias again.

And he was naked.

They stared at each other.

She was in a carriage with a naked man.

And not just any man, but the most proper one in all of Mayfair.

A giggle burst out of her. She slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle it.

“Bloody hell,” Tobias said, his voice hoarse as though he’d been a wolf for weeks instead of mere moments. He grabbed at the torn remnants of his shirt and pants. Gretchen giggled again. “It’s not funny,” he said sternly.

“It really is,” she insisted, even though her cheeks were red. Her gaze bounced to the brocade curtains, the mahogany paneling, his chest, the tip of her boot, his shoulders, her dress, his face. His mouth twitched. She nearly missed it. Their gazes collided again, and they burst out laughing. His chuckles were like honey wine, smooth and surprisingly sweet. She’d never heard him laugh before.

“Most girls wouldn’t think it so funny to be trapped in a carriage with a wolf,” he finally said.

“Never mind the wolf, you’re still naked.”

“I’d be most obliged if you’d hand me the change of clothes stored under your seat,” he added. He reached up and thumped the roof of the carriage with his fist twice, paused, and again. There were two quick answering raps from the driver.

“I take it this has happened before?” Gretchen asked, standing up to lift the cushion away to reveal the hinged lid of the hollow seat.

“No,” he said starkly.

“And yet you are so well prepared.” There was a woman’s dress and two sets of men’s clothes as well as a woolen blanket. She handed back a pair of dark brown trousers and a white linen shirt, telling herself not to peek. She caught a glimpse of his chest in the windowpane before she’d even finished lecturing herself. When she turned back he was more decently attired, if also more casual than his usual selection. He looked perfectly healthy, as if whatever it was that had plagued him when she’d found him had been exorcised by becoming a wolf. Only his eyes were still wild, dangerous.

“I do beg your pardon,” he said stiffly, resorting back to his usual excruciatingly polite self.

“Oh, don’t do that,” she fairly begged.

“But I put you in terrible danger,” he said. “And I am very sorry for it.”

She waved that away. “I wasn’t scared. Mostly.”

“Why didn’t you try to leave?”

“You might have been found out,” she replied. “I did promise.”

“Yes, you did, didn’t you?” The way he was watching her made her want to squirm and she wasn’t entirely sure why. She was suddenly more nervous than when she’d been trapped with over a hundred pounds of wolf.