Tommy dashed ahead of the pack to bang upon the door.
Elizabeth drew her sword. Twin daggers appeared in Kuni’s fists. Viv retrieved her tarantula from her reticule and placed it on her shoulder.
The door opened the barest of cracks.
“Horse Patrol,” chirped Tommy, and kicked in the door.
Zeus bounded in first, knocking aside whomever guarded the entrance, and likely toppling tables and chairs as he skated through the house.
The rest of the Wynchesters poured in right behind, with Viv on the front lines.
“Quentin!” She shouted until her voice grew hoarse. “Quentin!”
“You cannot barge into a private residence,” stammered Miss Yates, whose countenance had gone deathly pale at the sight of them.
They were in the right spot. They just had to find him.
Viv and the other Wynchesters spread out. While most searched for Quentin, a few Wynchesters peeked beneath cushions and behind furniture for signs of the scandalous Olivebury painting in order to put a stop to the parliamentary vote manipulation altogether.
“Found it!” crowed Stephen, emerging from a side room with a rolled canvas waving in his hand.
Elizabeth pumped her sword in the air.
At the moment, Viv was more concerned about locating her cousin. He had to be here. And please God, unharmed.
Zeus clattered into the kitchen and gave a mighty woof so loud it shook the walls.
Viv came running.
A cook and a maid stood with their spines flush against tall shelves of pots and spices. Both of their panicked, guilty gazes looked everywhere except at the pantry in the corner.
“Don’t you dare run off,” Viv growled. She took the tarantula from her shoulder and set it on the floor. “Watch them, Sally.”
The maids shrieked and clutched each other.
Viv spun to the pantry and tried the door handle.
Locked.
“Quentin!” she screamed, her throat tight and raw. “Quentin, can you hear me?”
A muffled groan was barely audible on the other side.
“Out of the way,” Kuni commanded.
“Quentin, get back!” Viv called, fully expecting Kuni to break down the door with one kick.
Instead, Kuni slid a hatpin and the tip of her dagger into the keyhole. In seconds, the door sprang open.
Quentin was standing on the other side, his hands tied behind his back and his mouth gagged with a handkerchief.
As his eyes widened with confusion and recognition, Viv raced forward to tug the gag from his mouth. “Are you all right?”
“My whiskers are itchy,” he replied. “I haven’t been able to shave all month. And my hair needs new twists. Wait, are these people… Are you with…”
His whiskers were itchy! Viv let out a choking laugh and threw her arms around him. With her sword, Elizabeth sliced through therings of rope around his wrists. All of a sudden, after four long weeks, Viv’s baby cousin was finally hugging her back.
“You’re really safe,” she choked out. “I was so afraid…”
