Chapter 10 #3
This was the Miss Martin Lucien knew and recognized from the Grosvenor Hotel last year, when she'd arrested him.
Capable, devious, fully in command of her wits, and confident of her strengths.
.. Only in the privacy of her own rooms did she ever reveal a softer side with hints of vulnerability.
It was a dangerous combination, for on one hand he admired her strength of will, whilst at the same time he found the woman who turned to him for comfort alluring.
He wanted to know all of her secrets, wanted to understand what put that sadness in her eyes at times when she grew distracted and stared out of windows. ..
"Don't know where she is, don't know what she wants, don't know—"
"But you're not denying that she's in the country."
Horroway's mouth slammed shut. Then he bared his teeth at her. "You fuckin' bitch, you didn't know."
The faintest of smiles crossed Miss Martin's mouth.
Slowly, with her skirts swishing, she paced in front of Horroway, looking for all the world like an academic contemplating a problem.
"She's back in the country, back in London, but she's not come to you for help, has she?
Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Poor Elijah.
All of that loyalty you placed behind her, hoping that she'd come back to you one day.
.. No hope of that though, now you're like this.
Morgana wouldn't want a husk of a man. No, whom else would she turn to?
Hmm." Miss Martin tapped her lips. "She never did have any female allies.
Always men, strangely enough. Or perhaps not allies, perhaps we should call them what they were—puppets.
So who is still alive out of all those who danced to her tune?
Well, of course, there's Tremayne, but then they parted on bad terms after she and Drake conspired to steal the Relics Infernal from him, and Tremayne isn't the sort to dance to her tune for long.
There's Roger Maddesley, but how much influence does he have these days?
Chester Hemmingfield, perhaps? He's ambitious and no friend to the Prime.
.." She glanced toward Horroway. "What do you think? "
"I think you're fishin' for information, and I don't plan on givin' you any more of it."
Lucien tugged his pocket watch out of his coat. "How much time does he have on his timepiece?"
Plucking a handkerchief from her reticule, Miss Martin used it to tug the chain from Horroway's shirt. "Hmm, hard to say. A few days by the look of it."
Which was time they didn't have... "Perhaps we could take him back to your house and lock him in the cellar? Far away from any fresh bodies."
"Hmm."
"Fuck you!" Horroway snarled, twisting against the invisible hold that pinned him to the wall.
"Tremayne, Maddesley, or Hemmingfield?" Lucien demanded. "Who's helping her?"
"How in the seven hells should I know?" Horroway shot back. "Do I look like I keep track of her swains? Maybe you ought to widen your list? There's more sorcerers who grow tired of the Prime's yoke than is on that list!"
"He's lying," Lucian said, with some certainty. It was more difficult to read the faint, faint flicker of color over Horroway's face—more of a mottling than the iridescent glimmer of color that Ianthe sometimes wore—but he knew he wasn't wrong. "Something in that last mess was a lie."
Both sets of eyes locked on him. Miss Martin wore a considering look, but she turned and aimed that pointed brow at Horroway. "So it's someone who we've mentioned."
"Ain't fuckin'—"
Miss Martin spat one of her ritual words, her fingers clenching into claws.
Horroway gasped as his flask flew from his pocket into her hand.
Miss Martin unscrewed it and threatened to pour the elixir within all over the floor.
"I've already warned you about your language, and I wouldn't toy with my sense of patience at the moment, Horroway.
Morgana has something that belongs to me, and I want it back.
" A trickle of effervescent green liquid splashed and hissed, as it burned straight through the timber floorboards.
"I find myself becoming quite vexed. Tell me the truth, and I'll leave you here to rot.
I truly do not care about your fate. Not at all. "
"Don't you dare—" Horroway writhed, a look of fury upon his face, as he watched her pour more of his precious elixir upon the floor.
"You bitch! You fuckin' bitch! Fine! I know where she is!
She's at the Windsor Hotel. Her and her lover.
" He sneered, spittle flying from his lips in his vehemence.
"And good luck to you there, at getting past him! "
"Her lover?" Miss Martin's eyes narrowed.
"Some pretty fop she has chipping along at her heels. Wears a dissembling veil over his face, some kind of spell that hides his identity, but he's strong. Stronger than you, stronger'n your precious Prime! Ain't nobody I know."
"So you have seen her." Another droplet of fluorescent green splashed upon the floor. "But you're not working with her?"
Horroway looked aside, his filmy eyes lost. Despite his distaste, Lucien felt a flicker of sympathy, for the man looked like he'd been cast aside like a used toy, knowing that he was no longer man enough to please a woman it was rumored that he'd once loved.
Horroway was one step away from a monster, however. That was something he couldn't forget. Sometimes the bodies he came by weren't from a grave.
"Didn't she want you anymore?" Lucien asked, steeling himself. "What did she ask of you then?"
"You ought to know."
Lucien paused. "What do you mean by that?"
"Your lord father's diary," Horroway spat. "She wanted it. Don't know what for. Don't much care."
"Lord Rathbourne?" Lucien's mind raced. He'd never have suspected the man to be involved with Morgana. "Did you get it for her?"
"Couldn't find the blasted thing." Horroway saw the look they exchanged. "And that's the truth."
"I'm not sure you're acquainted with such a notion," Miss Martin murmured.
"Rot in hell. I don't know nuthin' about no diary."
"If you tell us who has replaced you as Morgana's ally, we shall walk out of here and leave you alone. Perhaps we'll go annoy him instead."
"Aye, and good luck to you." Horroway laughed, a dry bitter sound. "Don't know much, but I ain't stupid." Those hate-filled eyes locked on the pair of them. "They ain't friends, but they've got a similar cause: to cast the Prime down."
"Who?"
"Tremayne," Horroway sneered. "Who else wants to see the Relics Infernal back in hand and the Prime cast down as much as Morgana does?"
They exited the Labyrinth without further ado.
"Remind me never to set foot on your bad side," Lucian remarked, taking her arm. "You are positively ruthless."
Miss Martin looked distracted again, but at his words, her eyes saddened. "Not really," she whispered, and he might not have heard the words if he hadn't been listening for them. "But sometimes, we find ourselves pushed beyond our limits. There's not a great deal I wouldn't do at the moment..."
"To get the relic back?" he asked, handing her up into the hackney that they'd arrived in.
"Yes," she murmured, "to get the relic back."
And for the second time that day, someone lied to him. Lucien's gaze sharpened upon her.
"What about your father's diary?" she asked, a clear diversion.
"Hell if I know. The Lord Rathbourne I knew would never have lowered himself to consort with such people."
"He made you raise a demon," Miss Martin said. "Did you ever ask him why?"
That verged on a conversation he never, ever wanted to have. A cold sweat sprang up around his collar. "I presumed it was because he wanted me to unleash it upon Drake. If it killed the Prime..." He faltered. The demon would have been traced back to him, and hence Lord Rathbourne. It made no sense.
"Why you?"
Lucien frowned. "I don't know."
"Did you ever see his diary?"
"No." Lucien looked at her. "But I know where he would have kept it."