They started to circle the building and turned into the alley that ran between the block mill building and a large storehouse. Tamsyn’s intuition was on high alert. Something odd flickered in the alley ahead of them. There was something there she couldn’t quite see....
She stretched her intuition to the limits, then caught her breath. “Ahead of us are two men using stealth to conceal their movements!”
Cade looked where she pointed and swore under his breath. “Bran, take my hand so we can combine our energies!”
Tam was already holding Cade’s hand and Bran and then Andre joined the connection. She felt a rush of power and realized that Cade was trying to overcome the stealth being used by the men ahead.
There was a shimmer and suddenly two men wearing workmen’s smocks became visible. They were running away from the block mill as fast as they could.
Howard gasped as they became visible, then bellowed. “Halt!”
Instead, the men sprinted harder, heading for the end of the block building, where they could turn out of sight and perhaps get lost in the maze of buildings and crowds of exiting workers.
The chief shouted again, “Halt or we’ll shoot!”
One of the men pivoted around to face them and yanked a pistol from under his smock. He cocked it and fired, but his shot didn’t hit any of his pursuers.
Howard ordered his guards, “Fire!”
The guards were armed with rifles, more accurate than pistols, and their two shots were almost simultaneous. The weapons were deafening in the confined space between the two brick buildings, and the air filled with the acrid smoke of black powder.
Both of the fleeing men jerked and went down. When the pursuers reached the fallen men, Howard bent over the one on the left, whose head and neck were covered with blood. “Good shooting, Morris! He’s dead but I hope the other one is alive because I want to hear what he has to say.”
Tamsyn saw a faint glow of light about the man on the right, but it was flickering, and she guessed that he was mortally wounded. She crossed to him, with Cade in tow. This was the man who had fired his pistol, and because he was turned toward his pursuers, the bullet had struck his chest and he’d been knocked onto his back.
Tam knelt beside him and Cade placed a hand on her shoulder to help her study the man’s energy. He was young and ablaze with fury and defiance as he gloried in the knowledge that he was dying for France and Napoleon. He was also taking fierce satisfaction in the knowledge of the damage he’d arranged.
She rested a hand on his arm and said quietly in French, “You’re gravely injured, citizen. Do you have any last messages or prayers you’d like to make?”
He tried to spit but he didn’t have the breath to do it well. He did manage to snarl a few filthy French curses at her. Later she’d have to ask Cade what some of the words meant, though she could make a good guess.
She laid a hand on his cold forehead and continued speaking in French. “As an agent of France, you’ve done a brave and dangerous deed. But will your action today kill men you worked with who may have become friends?”
For a flickering moment she felt regret as her words struck home. She also sensed images of what he’d done and gave thanks that there should be time to undo his work. Again softly, she asked, “Were you working alone or are you part of a larger group?”
This time there was a jumble of words, place names, gone in an instant. She repeated them to herself so she wouldn’t forget.
His defiance dissolved into fear and he grabbed at her hand as he whispered a desperate “Mama?”
“You are not alone,” she said quietly.
He exhaled raggedly, then breathed no more.
CHAPTER35
As Tamsyn felt the young man die under her hand, she gasped and began shaking, near fainting. Cade’s arm came around her, warm and protective. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “You’re safe now.”
She saw that he had knelt beside her on the dusty street. She half turned and burrowed into his arms, wanting to disappear into him.
More distantly, she heard Bran say quietly to Chief Howard, “Tamsyn’s strongest gift is for mental health and healing, and I’ve seen her do extraordinary things. But using her gifts is exhausting.”
Bran was right—this particular incident had taken a great deal out of her—but she must speak of what she’d learned as soon as possible. She knew that the young man she’d shadowed into death had been named Jacques and he’d desperately wanted to aid his country and his hero, but in his final moments he’d been terrified by approaching death. She hoped he was at peace now. But that information wasn’t important compared to what else she’d learned.
Cade was stroking his hand down her back, bringing her back to herself. Raising her head, she said, “This man, Jacques, and his companion over there were French. They came to England pretending to be Belgians fleeing the French conquest of their country. When they applied to work here in the Yard, they quite convincingly claimed they wanted to work against Napoleon.”
“Are there others like them working here?” Cade asked calmly.
She needed to explain further, but first she must stop the potential damage. “They’re the only ones here in the Portsmouth Yard. Since they were both assigned to work in the wood shops, they decided that setting fires there would produce the maximum damage.”
