As she descended to dinner in a peacock-blue evening gown with black fleur-de-lis embroidered over the skirt and bodice in a bold pattern, Thomas caught her in his emerald gaze. Every inch of her exposed skin heated.
Lady Langley stepped away from her. ‘Goodness! I must speak with someone about opening a few windows. It’s sweltering.’ The enterprising duchess spied Thomas as he made his way towards them and intercepted him before he could reach Clio.
‘You’ve been a very naughty boy, leaving today without telling any of us. But as you’ve returned so quickly, I shall forgive you by allowing you to escort me to dinner.’ Lady Langley swiftly secured Thomas’ arm. True to her word, she made sure Clio sat at the opposite side of the room, and the duchess managed to keep Thomas engaged for the rest of dinner. When the men joined the ladies after their port and cigars, Berty and the duke trapped Thomas on the far side of the room in a conversation she could only hope was revealing much of Berty’s intent to kill his doomed cousin. Clio, not generally a patient woman, had to content herself with Cynthia’s company until the evening’s festivities ended and she could escape.
She sent the maid away, assuring the girl she could manage her own toilet that night and making sure Sir Robin was settled behind a newly procured screen after explaining how she’d stupidly placedthe screen far too close to the fire and it had caught alight. She had important matters to discuss with Thomas and decided it best to do so fully clothed. But as she listened at her door for the sound of him moving down the hall and into his room, a chill descended.
A glowing shimmer at her shoulder quickly brightened into the hazy image of Viscount Beachley.
‘Please. You must come quickly. It’s Anna.’ Viscount Beachley’s raspy whisper was a desperate plea. His ghostly face disappeared as the flickering light played beneath the crack in her door. He was waiting for her in the deserted hall as she slipped out of her room. The wooden floor was cold on her stockinged feet. She almost turned back to retrieve her slippers, wake Sir Robin from his feathery dreams, and hopefully dally long enough for Thomas to join them, but Viscount Beachley already began floating towards the eastern staircase.
‘Please. Hurry.’ His smoky words echoed down the hall.
Clio had no choice but to follow him, fear for Anna tightening her chest. Would Berty try to hurt the girl? Anna could place him at her home the night her parents were murdered. Eliminating her as a witness would ensure Berty’s safety. Perhaps even now, he was making his way up the southern staircase in the family wing, intent on eliminating the last witness to his dastardly crimes. Clio hastened her steps, flying up the stairs and across the third floor until Viscount Beachley hovered at the nursery door.
Not waiting for him, Clio opened the door, stepped inside the room, and froze.
Violet Beachley, was helping Anna put on a child’s winter coat. The viscountess was very much alive as both she and her daughter turned with twin expressions of horror to stare at Clio and the ghost.
21
Lifting a grey arm and pointing his charcoal finger at the viscountess, the ghost screamed.
‘Murderer!’
Anna cowered behind her mother, her eyes wide with fear. ‘I told you, Mother! I told you Papa wouldn’t let us leave.’
Violet’s face whitened with fear, but she pushed Anna behind her and straightened her shoulders. ‘You can’t hurt us any more, Arthur. I killed you once. I can do it again.’
The ghost’s laughter was a cold and terrifying thing. Chills skated up Clio’s spine as gooseflesh broke out over her arms and legs.
‘You can’t punish the dead. We are already suffering for our crimes.’ Arthur turned to Clio, grabbed her wrist, and held her tight enough to leave a bruise. ‘Kill her. You must avenge me. You promised to help. She murdered me! Make her face judgement.’
Clio tried to pull free, but his grip was too powerful.
‘I won’t.’ She kept her voice strong and steady. ‘Murdering her will not help you find peace.’
‘I don’t want peace. I want revenge,’ he rasped, yanking hard onher wrist, pulling her close and gripping her throat with his other hand. As he began to squeeze, Clio saw stars. His silver gaze held her in thrall. Her magic stalled in her chest, the flame flickering, starved of oxygen as her lungs began to scream for air. She could barely hear him over her pounding heart. ‘I can’t touch her. But I can hurt you. I can kill you. And I will do it if you don’t follow my command.’ His harsh promise seeped into her like frigid water, bringing with it the icy guarantee of being forever trapped as a spectre. Not of this world, but not able to leave.
‘I don’t follow anyone’s command but my own,’ Clio gasped.And Thomas’ on very special occasions.The mere thought of him pitched her into a panic. What if she never saw him again? What if she died tonight and he never knew how much she loved him? Her heart beat madly as she tried to think. She should have told him sooner. The moment he arrived, she should have put aside her fear and made him see how very much she adored him, just as he was, with no changes. She closed her eyes and imagined his face. If she were going to die this night, she wanted the last thing she saw to be him.
‘Let her go!’ Thomas’ deep voice resonated in her imagination. It felt so real. As if she’d conjured him from thin air.
The unmistakable caw of Sir Robin pulled her from the edge of darkness. She forced her eyes open, and Arthur was no longer looking at her. His deathly grip fell away as he covered his head, protecting himself from the talons of her raven as Sir Robin once more attacked. Perhaps it was his connection to Clio as her familiar, or some mystical blessing from the fates, but whatever the cause, Sir Robin was able to pierce the viscount’s ghostly skin. Viscount Beachley swung his arm blindly, hitting the bird as Sir Robin descended. Feathers flew. Sir Robin careened wildly across the room. He landed with a thunk near Anna’s skirts. The girl screamed.
But the bird was only stunned. He hopped to his feet, blinking rapidly and fluffing his feathers, his head cocked to the side.
Clio felt a moment of relief before the viscount reclaimed her attention. He lowered his arms, and silver dripped from his face where black claw marks marred his once-perfect skin.
‘I will kill you both. You first, witch.’ He moved with inhuman speed, but before he could reach her, Thomas was at her side, gripping her hand in his.
The heat from his palm seeped into her as she took a ragged breath. She filled her lungs, and with it, her flame renewed, heating her chest. A dome of light surrounded them. As the viscount slammed into it, he was thrown backwards, his face twisting in rage.
‘No!’ He turned to Violet and Anna, moving towards them. ‘This is all because of you!’ He pointed a grey finger at his wife, the hatred in him creating a pulse of energy that struck out like a bolt, striking near Violet’s feet and leaving a charred scar on the wooden floor. The viscount’s eyes lit with surprise, then a manic kind of joy. He flung his rage once more, this bolt striking Violet in the belly. She cried out and doubled over.
‘Oh, dear goddess.’ Clio watched in horror as the viscount laughed in glee. He was somehow able to channel his fury into power. She’d never seen anything like this before. But she’d never encountered a ghost with such malevolent energy pulsing through his spirit.
‘You couldn’t just let me kill her.’ The viscount threw another bolt of energy, this one barely missing Anna. ‘I’ll finish what I started. And then I’ll bring you to this side, Violet. I’ll make you pay for what you did for all eternity. You’ll never escape me.’
