Mirror, page 25
Like a pack of ravenous wolves, the creatures turned away from Lady Quill and sprinted toward Leroux. He struggled to shed his coat and tore at the buttons of his shirt in a vain effort to rid himself of the scent that drew them, but it was no use.
He ran for the door, but just as he reached it the beasts fell upon him. The fireworks raging overhead reached a crescendo as the creatures tore into him. Bright bursts of light made the horror seem like a series of photographs flashing before her eyes.
One creature bit into his arm as another two bit at his legs, and then another and another, until there were too many to see him clearly. He disappeared beneath them as they piled on top of him, each eager for a piece of flesh. He cried out in agony, and Artemis was shaken with shock at the sight. She started to cut away at the beasts on top of him. No sooner had she began to strike at them when every creature stopped, frozen in mid-attack, and then vanished, just as the final firework exploded overhead.
Then, in an instant, all was quiet. The flickering orange glow of the sparks from the final firework drifted down, dwindling until they, too, snuffed out, leaving nothing but unnatural silence and stillness behind.
All movement, all sound seemed to stop. The raging anarchy of just moments ago was gone. The wildly rushing beasts had vanished into thin air, leaving only the memory of their horror. Guests who had been running and fighting for their lives only seconds before stood frozen in shock. As if waiting for the creatures to return, they stayed just as they were—a woman half lifted from the ground, a man with one foot on the gangway to a boat, two women holding each other in prayer. No one dared move.
In the predatory stillness, a torn piece of bunting caught by the wind danced and twisted along the terrace like a snake until it wrapped itself around a fallen chair and it too ceased to move.
At Artemis’s feet, Alain Leroux lay on the ground, bloodied and unmoving, one arm outstretched toward the door, his clothes and flesh torn, his life taken by his own creations.
Finally someone, Artemis didn’t know who, moved, and then someone else spoke, and the world started to turn again.
Tommy, her father, Miss Ashcroft, and Lady Quill came toward her from the far end of the terrace.
The chaos that had reigned just moments ago seemed like a dream. And she might have been able to convince herself it was if it weren’t for the overturned tables, scattered torches still burning on the ground, and the bloody corpse at her feet.
“Are you all right?” her father asked as he and the others joined her.
“Yes.”
He gave her a long searching look, and then, satisfied, moved to check needlessly on Leroux.
Lady Quill was pale and trembling. Tommy took off his coat and put it over her shoulders.
Miss Ashcroft looked peaked, but never more beautiful in Artemis's eyes. She never could have done this without her. Her father and countless others would surely have died. How badly she’d misjudged her.
“Thank you,” Artemis said, knowing it wasn’t what she really wanted, or needed, to say.
Miss Ashcroft managed a weak smile. “What are friends for?”
Artemis let a smile come to her face, although she was nearly too tired to manage it.
Her father checked on Leroux, but there was nothing to be done for him now.
“Where did they all go?” Tommy asked, looking around as puzzled as everyone else by the creatures suddenly vanishing.
“The spell must have been tied to Leroux,” Miss Ashcroft said. “When he died, it ended and they … well, I suppose they returned to wherever they came from.”
Tommy looked around at the disaster area that used to be a rather fine party.
“Wot do we do now?”
“Leave, I think,” her father said. “The police will be here soon, and I’d rather not be here when they do.”
No one disagreed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
He would never get used to this.
Although it had become a frighteningly regular occurrence, Victor knew he would never grow accustomed to seeing his child hurt. She would heal, of course, at least from these wounds—four distinct bite marks on her legs, deep gouges made by the creatures’ relentless jaws. But would they always be so lucky?
He knew the answer to that and forced his mind away from it.
Tonight they were, and for that he was grateful.
Artemis sat on the examination table of his surgery, her injured leg extended as he cleaned and dressed the wound. She hissed in pain as he worked to clear debris from one of the deeper cuts.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Almost finished.”
He picked the last bit out with a pair of tweezers and poured carbolic acid over them to sterilize them as best he could. Despite her accelerated healing abilities, infection was still a very real danger, although, hardly the worst they’d faced tonight. It was a miracle more people weren’t hurt. It was a testament to Artemis's skill, and an assist from a few friends, he thought with a smile.
Miss Ashcroft had shown herself to be a powerful ally tonight. Her magic had kept dozens of people, himself included, alive tonight. He wished he knew what to offer a witch for magical depletion and made a note to ask her about it. In fact, he should ask her a great deal more about magical maladies and potential issues. He might have to treat more unusual injuries in the future that were certainly not part of Osler’s Principles and Practice of Medicine.
Artemis shifted on the table.
“All right?” he asked, concerned.
She’d been quiet ever since they’d left Westminster. Initially, he’d chalked it up to fatigue. She’d fought valiantly and relentlessly. In fact, all of the young people had, including Tommy, and even that damned Parker showed some mettle tonight.
But as he observed his daughter, there seemed to be more to her silence than simple weariness, however well-earned. No doubt pain was part of it, he knew. Once the burst of adrenaline that he postulated accompanied the use of her powers subsided, sensation and awareness would set in. For all of her powers, she still felt every cut and every bruise. That bothered him deeply. He’d already treated her for more injuries in the last month than in her previous sixteen years combined. And to think that she not only had to have the courage to do what she did, but the courage to endure it.
He’d always admired his daughter’s resilience and thought he could not love her more, but somehow, with each passing day he found new depths to both feelings.
When she didn’t respond to his inquiry, he stopped wrapping the gauze around her leg.
“Artemis?” he prompted gently.
“Hmm?” she said, finally looking at him.
“I asked if you were all right?”
“Yes,” she said, but there was a worried crease in her brow and a distant look remained in her eyes. Victor didn’t want to push, and so he finished wrapping her leg, securing the bandage with tape.
“All set,” he said.
She gingerly swung her legs off the table and Victor held out a hand to help her down, but she didn’t take it. In fact, she didn’t move.
“What is it?” he asked.
When she finally looked at him again, her eyes were haunted. “I almost got us all killed tonight.”
Victor pulled back in surprise. “What do you mean? Without you, dozens of people would have been injured or worse. Certainly, Lady—”
“I couldn’t do it,” she said.
She averted her gaze then and Victor moved into her line of sight. “Couldn’t do what?”
She paused, the worry line between her eyes growing. “Kill him.”
“Leroux?”
“I knew it was the right thing to do. I think I knew ….” she hesitated. “If Miss Ashcroft hadn’t been there ….”
Victor stepped forward, closing the small space between them, and took gentle hold of her shoulders, urging her to look up at him.
“Artemis. You did everything you could and more.”
“You don’t understand. I had the chance to end it. I could have stopped him, but I didn’t. I just wasn’t sure he was the key, that he was controlling them. But he was. And I ….”
Victor was finally beginning to understand. “You hesitated because you weren’t sure, and he was human. Is that it?”
Artemis looked as if she were confessing a grievous sin. “I’m sorry.”
Victor’s heart, already full of love for her, nearly burst.
“Oh, my girl,” he said as he tucked a curled index finger under her chin to lift it. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. You faced an impossible decision and I’m so very proud of how you handled it.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Sometimes that’s the most difficult thing of all. For all his flaws, Leroux was just a man. And you were right to hesitate. We didn’t know for certain if he was in control of the creatures.”
Artemis didn’t look convinced in the slightest. She’d obviously had this conversation with herself many times over.
“Let me ask you this,” he said. “How would you feel, right now, if you’d killed Leroux and had been wrong about him being the key?”
That seemed to break through to her. “Your powers, your abilities, they give you enormous responsibilities, not the least of which is knowing when not to use them.”
“But I should have,” she protested. “I could have ended it sooner.”
“By taking a man’s life? Killing demons and shades and hellish creatures is one thing, sending them back to Otherworld, but taking a human life … that’s something we must never do.”
She nodded thoughtfully, at least some of her concerns abated.
“And besides,” he added, “you weren’t alone out there. Remember, when one of us falters, the other is there to pick them up.”
“And it certainly doesn’t hurt if you have a friendly witch along,” Artemis said.
Victor chuckled softly. “No, no, it doesn’t.”
Artemis moved to get off the table, and Victor helped ease her down.
She kept her injured leg off the ground at first and then tested it, wincing as she put weight on it.
“Do you need help upstairs?” he asked.
She hesitated, about to reflexively say no, but then stopped herself. He held out his arm, and she accepted his offer of support. Whether she asked for it or not, he would always be there to offer it.
“Still nothing?” Artemis asked.
Her father flipped through the last few pages of the newspaper, then lowered it. “Nothing.”
Artemis hadn’t slept much last night, and not just because of what happened, but because of who saw what happened. It seemed impossible that there wasn’t any mention of it in the paper. Not even the afternoon edition.
“Half the House of Lords saw me Blazing all over creation, and nothing?”
Her father arched an eyebrow and folded the paper, resting it on his knee as he sat back in the wingback chair opposite hers in his study.
“It is odd.”
That is an understatement.
Thank Heaven the gargoyles had returned to their places on the abbey once the magic spell had ended. If they hadn’t, now that would have been difficult to explain.
“More tea?” Mrs. Perry asked as she appeared in the doorway to collect the tray.
“No thank you,” her father said, looking thoughtfully into the fire.
They were both worried about the implications of so many people knowing, or at least suspecting, her secret. Would they come for her? Would they try to lock her up somewhere? It was all very distracting.
“How about you, miss?” Mrs. Perry said. “Another slice of cake?”
She could feel her father’s disapproval even before she looked at him.
Mrs. Perry leaned in. “It’s good for what ails you.”
“Is that your prescription, Mrs. Perry?” he asked. “Lemon cake?”
She drew herself up to her not-so-impressive height. “Tastes better than that lot you dole out.”
He chuckled.
“Just a small one then,” Mrs. Perry whispered as she gave Artemis a wink, then started toward the door with the tray.
Just as she reached the hallway, the door chimed. She moved to set it down, but Artemis's father stood.
“It’s all right. I’ll get it.”
Mrs. Perry gave a quick nod of acknowledgement and left for the kitchen as her father moved to answer the door, but then the telephone rang.
“When it rains, it pours,” he said, “Can you?”
Artemis stood. “I’ll get the door. You answer the phone. It’s probably Mr. Darvill again.”
He’d already called twice today.
“You’re sure?” he asked, and both the telephone and doorbell rang in reply.
“I’m fine,” she said.
She was; her leg was still a little painful, but not bad at all. And she was already getting stir crazy from sitting around all morning.
Here’s to quick healing. And lemon cake.
She opened the front door and drew back in surprise.
“Liam?”
He smiled that bright wonderful smile, and she stood there awkward and unsure. Had he come back for her?
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I …” he began then faltered. “Well … I was ... About last night.”
“Oh.”
Of course.
She tried to hide her disappointment.
“You see it’s just that, well,” he said, seemingly struggling to form complete sentences. “It’s just that … well, there were … What I mean is ….”
“Parliament was attacked by strange Hellbeasts?” she provided for him.
He laughed in relief. “Yes.”
She’d expected this and knew he would probably be only the first. How many people were there last night? How many people saw her being the Blaze?
“And you fought them?” he asked, although it was more of a statement than a question. “With a flaming sword.”
He looked almost worried, as if she were going to tell him he was the crazy one and not the girl with the sword.
Artemis realized they were still standing in the open doorway. “Perhaps you should come in?”
Liam appeared relieved not to be sent away, but once he was inside a new nervousness took over.
“I know your father doesn’t want me here, but I—”
“That’s correct.”
Her father stood in the doorway to the study looking less than pleased.
“Sir, I’m sorry for intruding but—”
“He has questions,” Artemis explained, hoping to stop her father from summarily forcing Liam to leave.
“I see.”
“I realize I’m breaching our agreement,” Liam went on, “but I thought it best to ask you directly about … what exactly I saw last night.”
“I don’t suppose you could be persuaded to forget the entire thing?” her father asked, sounding hopeful.
“I’m afraid not, sir. I’m curious by nature and well ….”
“Yes, well ….”
Her father’s gaze shifted between the two of them and then finally landed on Artemis. He silently asked her what she thought they should do. They’d discussed the possibility of this very instance earlier. And while they’d agreed to deny and deflect most inquiries, they knew there would be those who would not be put off. And those they might not want to put off.
It was a pleasant surprise that her father seemed to be leaving that decision—at least in Liam’s case—up to her.
She liked Liam and she trusted him. He’d shown his courage and foresight last night. It felt wrong to lie to him after that. She gave her father an almost imperceptible nod.
He grunted and shifted his attention back to Liam.
“All right, Mr. Parker. Come in.”
He stood aside so that Liam could enter the study. Artemis followed him in.
Her father asked her quietly as she passed, “You’re sure?”
She was.
Her father remained in the doorway and eyed them both skeptically.
“I suppose it’s best you be the one to explain things, Artemis,” he said, surprising her for the second time in as many minutes.
He looked at her with the faith and trust she’d wanted so badly those long days ago. She hoped he knew how much those things meant to her.
The returning light in his eyes showed he did.
He cleared his throat as he eyed Liam. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Liam nervously hovered in the center of the room.
“This does not, however,” he went on, “mean I have changed my mind about our previous discussion. However, given the circumstances, I do recognize that perhaps a friendship, within reason, might be permissible.”
It was all Artemis could do not to beam at the idea. Liam glanced at her and a blush stole along her cheeks.
Her father cleared his throat again. “Yes, well. I’ll just leave the door open,” he said, pushing it all the way open and stepping into the space emphasizing the fact that it should remain so.
Liam straightened and faced her father.
“Thank you, sir,” Liam said.
Her father appraised him slowly, then started to leave but stopped. “Oh, and one more thing, Mr. Parker. In case you forget yourself, my daughter is not the only one skilled with a sword.” He arched his eyebrow for emphasis.
Liam swallowed nervously. “Understood, sir.”
Her father looked pleased. He caught Artemis's eye one last time and then left them alone. She knew he was probably standing out in the hall just out of sight and was at most ten feet away, but it was all she needed.
“So ….” Liam said, standing awkwardly.
Artemis gestured for him to sit, and he took the chair across from her that her father had occupied. And the silence resumed.
“So,” he started again.
“About before,” she interrupted. “At the party, before … I was rude to you.”
“No. It’s all right,” he said, then ducked his chin. “I have to admit, I might have overstepped a little. I realize asking to court you might have been ….”
