P. Elrod: The Hanged Man

“Your father may be cold, but he’s a man of honor. He would have resigned and removed everyone from London. He’ll still resign. The family won’t survive what you and Teddy have done to it.

“I should be pleased to let Teddy know all that you’ve achieved. If you’d not acted, his plan for the Black Dawn to press forward might have worked. But whatever the outcome, you’d have lost.”

“You won’t get those years back,” said Andrina. “All those years your father praised me, not you. Those are mine . He was proud of me, not you. I’ve won.”

“Convince yourself of that in the times to come when you sit alone in a cell not nearly as pleasant as this.”

“There’s no proof connecting me to Gerard’s death. It’s all on Teddy. No one can prove I forged his name, and I will deny everything. I will put on a most convincing show. Not even a Reader will get past it. You and your ilk may detect lies, but you can’t force people to speak. You’ll get no admissions from me.”

The memory of Lord Richard questioning the captured Black Dawn fanatic was fresh and sharp. Alex had no doubt that whatever talent had been in play then would be used on Andrina later. Alex smiled. “Then you’ve a terrible surprise ahead. I won’t spoil it for you.”

“Are you finished? I’m tired. I want tea and food and a proper room. Send someone to bring me a change of clothes. I’ll make a list for my maid.”

“Witling,” Alex repeated. “That life is ended . This is your life now-while it lasts. I’ll have to look up what’s done to traitors these days. I don’t know if they’re hanged or beheaded. If the latter, then we might have to send for one of those French machines.”

Andrina laughed once and sat on the bench. “That won’t happen. They won’t execute a woman, and they certainly won’t execute a goddaughter of the queen. She’ll never allow it.”

“She may have no choice. She’s sworn to support the laws of the realm. But I like our godmother. There are ways of sparing her from such a decision-”

Andrina’s shriek for help was cut short when Alex whipped the silk cordings around her throat, pulling them tight like a thuggee sacrificing to Kali. Andrina clawed and beat at her.

Alex let her armor down and felt the rage, the fear, the panic, and then the stubborn disbelief. Andrina knew she wouldn’t die, not really. Her struggles faltered.

But that wasn’t the point.

Alex whispered in her ear. “ This is what happened to Father. This is how it feels. This is what you brought upon him. You are going to die, Cousin. Your tongue bulging and black, your eyes bloodshot, your face purple. What an ugly corpse you’ll make.”

Andrina suddenly found fresh strength to fight, trying to pull the strangling silk away.

Alex pulled it a fraction tighter and waited until the certainty of survival faded. She felt the raw instant when her cousin realized it was over. The horrified panic returned and it was devastating. Alex slammed her defenses between them to avoid that wailing despair, counted to ten, then let go.

Her cousin fell and lay like a dead thing. After a moment, Andrina twitched, then began wheezing. First short, ineffective gasps, then coughing, then whoops as she struggled to fill her lungs. Alex was reminded of her own near-drowning.

“Was it peaceful for you? Was it painless?” she asked.

Andrina seemed not to hear.

Alex gathered the letters and kicked the debris of the box outside the door. She went back and knelt close to Andrina, looking into her eyes, into her bloodshot and terrified eyes.

“You’re going to remember this. When the light fades each night you will always feel that tightness about your throat. You will dream about it and wake from nightmares about dying. You will remember what you did to deserve it. This will haunt you forever; each time you take a breath in the dark, you will remember this. You won’t be able to help yourself.”

Alex rose and walked out, bolting the door.

She made it halfway down the corridor before her knees gave way. The blackness struck her like a club.

Strangely, the floor was a soft and yielding thing. It held her close, rocking and protecting her.

It felt like music.

* * *

The peaty taste of whiskey pulled her back. She cleared her throat and shot fully awake.

To her chagrin, Mr. Brook was on the floor, holding her cradled in his arms. She started to rise, but after the first feeble effort decided it might be better to rest for a moment.

It was quite ridiculous. Wholly unprofessional.

But … exceedingly pleasant.

Other Service members walked around them, glancing down with concern, but Brook smiled and waved them off, letting them know the situation was well in hand.

“You heard all that?” she asked.

“Some of it. You are a frightening woman, Miss Pendlebury.”

Yet he held her. His feelings for her were the same.

“You shouldn’t know such things about me.”

“Why not? You know everything about me at any given moment. No one can hide aught from a Reader, or so I’ve been told. Several times.”

“Did your talent bring you here?” she asked.

“No, that would be Sybil. She popped in just as Mrs. Woodwake was asking where the devil you’d gotten to. Sybil suggested that I look for you here and wait outside. She was adamant that I not interrupt.”

“For all you knew I was killing Andrina.”

“The Seer’s name is Sybil, not Cassandra. If Colonel Mourne takes what she says seriously, then so will I. Now, I won’t say I wasn’t worried, but it was your family matter to settle, not mine.” She felt his disquiet, but it flared and vanished.

“I said some terrible things.”

“You were provoked. She stole something irreplaceable and cut short an innocent life. In the end you took the right path. I don’t know that I’d have been as wise or restrained.”

“Families,” she groaned. “They can be quite dreadful.”

“Or your best refuge.”

“Not that one. This is my family, my home. The Service isn’t perfect, but I can be myself here. They understand me. But the days to come … I’ll have to make arrangements, somehow speak to my uncle and aunt, then go through Father’s letters.…”

“Mr. Fingate will help. So will I. So will James. You won’t be alone.”

“It will still be awful.”

“And it can wait,” he said firmly. “Put it from your mind, at least for now.”

“Pendleburys. Damn the Pendleburys. I’d change my name if I could.”

“Indeed?”

The blazing soaring uplift of spirit in him was unmistakable: hope.

Oh, God, he can’t be thinking of that . It’s absurd. Absolutely absurd.

And yet …

His warmth surged. Enveloping her.

She floated on it.