Chapter 24 #2
“I guess you can’t, not really. Some of this you’re going to have to take on a little faith, but…” I hesitate.
“Go on, Prickles,” Sam encourages. “Finish it out.”
Exhaling loudly, I stare at Cornelius. “I know about the demon,” I say, and he sucks in a breath.
“I know about The Book of Lala Khal that Cordelia stole from that village in India before your parents brought you to England. That you and your sisters accidentally opened a portal in your family home in Whitechapel when you were children. I know what your father did to Cordelia, sending her to Crowscroft, and everything she suffered there at the hands of Dr Whyte and the Demon Club.”
This time, it’s Ichabod who inhales sharply, his gaze snapping to Cornelius in alarm at how much personal knowledge I seem to have, but I continue on. I have to get it all out if I have any hope of convincing them to trust us, let alone help us.
“I know she raised a demon named Ishaan and set him loose on Dr Whyte and his associates. Just like I know you trapped that very same demon in a devil’s trap in your home, where I suspect he is right now.”
“How?” Cornelius whispers harshly.
“I told you. I come from a time many years from now.”
He shakes his head. “But that doesn’t explain how you know the most personal and shameful secrets of my family.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I mutter. “For the past several months, I’ve been having these…dreams, I suppose we could call them. I saw firsthand what Cordelia and her demon did.”
Cornelius and Ichabod share a glance that I can’t decipher.
“Look.” Hit by a wave of exhaustion, I’m grateful for the feel of Sam’s hand on the back of my neck in silent support.
“I don’t know why we’re here. I’m not even sure who cursed your sister’s music box or why it was left on my doorstep or by who.
What I do know is that Sam and I need your help.
We can’t figure out a way home on our own. ”
Cornelius and Ichabod once again share a loaded look, almost as if they are communicating without words.
“We need to get them away from here,” Ichabod says after a moment. “If what they say is true, we can’t risk anyone else seeing them.”
“Agreed.” Cornelius nods and pulls out his pocket watch. “By now, most of the guests should be too preoccupied to notice our departure.”
“I’ll summon the carriage.”
Ichabod unlocks the door and slips stealthily into the corridor. For several long moments, the three of us stand in awkward silence. Cornelius studies us with a contemplative gaze, and I have no idea what the hell he’s thinking with Sam in his underwear and me in my quirky nightwear.
After what feels like an eternity, Ichabod reappears with two heavy overcoats and hands one to me and one to Sam.
“Put these on, keep your heads down, don’t talk to anyone if you can help it, and once we get onto the street, don’t dally.
Since the murders began, there are extra constables on patrol. ”
I nod in agreement and pull one of the overcoats on. It’s heavy and makes my skin itch. It also smells of tobacco. My stomach turns, and I can’t tell if it’s because of the scent or the fact that we’ve just been tossed a century and a half into the past.
My head spins again and I draw in a silent breath, beyond grateful that Sam is here with me.
We may still be on rocky ground, but there’s no one else I’d rather have by my side.
I’m like two seconds away from freaking out, but curiously, the one thing stopping me from falling apart is Sam’s presence, and in this moment, I realise I need him like I’ve never needed anyone in my life before.
“Come.” Cornelius’ one word pulls me from my thoughts.
He looks between us and carefully chooses his next words.
“I don’t dare to presume the nature of your…
friendship,” he says, although his tone suggests he knows exactly the nature of our friendship, no presuming necessary, “but you do seem very tactile with each other. I do not know what it’s like where you come from, but here it is considered inappropriate for two men to be overly affectionate with each other. At least outside of these walls.”
“We understand,” Sam replies.
He leads us down the stairs, then we head down the hallway. We pass an open door to what appears to be a parlour, and I come to a dead stop. My mouth falls open and my eyes widen.
A completely naked young man with blond hair and a soft, curvy body is bent over a console table while an older man with grey hair, muttonchops, and a very bushy moustache stands behind him.
The older man’s chest is bare and his trousers puddle at his ankles as he rails the young man into the middle of next week.
I’m frozen in shock, trying to process what is so blatantly on display for all to witness, when the older man turns and locks eyes with me. His pace doesn’t even falter. He continues to grip his partner’s hips and slam into him, the young man moaning loudly under him.
“Come and join us.” The grey-haired man grins.
Suddenly, Cornelius is beside me, his hands on my arms as he steers me away.
“Admiral,” he greets the other man politely, as if they’ve just bumped into each other at a tearoom and not while the other man is balls deep in another man’s arse.
“Ah, Cornelius, is he yours? Not surprised. You always did have a thing for redheads.”
“Yes, he’s with me,” Cornelius replies carefully.