Still masked, Matthew tore off in the opposite direction from where Belle’s carriages were waiting. Pan dug his talons into Matthew’s coat for purchase before squawking back to their pursuers. “Hang in chains! Hang in chains!”
“Must you pick an insult that gives them ideas on what to do with my corpse?” Matthew huffed out in a low voice as he swerved into a narrow alley that would prevent the men from riding even two abreast.
Pan, however, ignored him and shrieked. “Hang in chains! Hang in chains!”
“You do know you could just fly back to the others?” Matthew growled under his breath but loud enough for Pan to hear. The bird did not listen to Matthew and only increased the volume of the same insult. Pan had always taken perverse delight in accompanying Matthew on midnight chases through London town.
Although Matthew was fleet of foot—courtesy of years of trying to escape his older brothers—he could not outrun a horse, especially not a military-trained one. But he had learned how to use London’s twisting alleys against the massive warmbloods. Unfortunately, barreling into London’s rabbit warren of closes meant risking blundering into a dead-end. But racing down the alleys was better than taking to the rooftops.
Matthew hated fleeing on top of buildings. First, there was the jumping through empty air—not the most calming of pursuits.Worse, one never knew the condition of the structure one was about to land upon. Furthermore, landing face-first into thatch was deuced uncomfortable, and dried vegetation made for a poor running surface.
The narrow passage suddenly dumped Matthew onto a large street. More dragoons spotted him as he dashed across the cobblestones.
“Hang in chains! Hang in chains! Hang in chains!” Pan sounded downright gleeful.
His blood thumping even faster than the hooves behind him, Matthew flew into another alleyway next to a noisy tavern. An… erm…embracingcouple looked up from their lovemaking. Both made hasty efforts to cover their nakedness as Matthew dashed past them.
“My sincerest apologies!” Matthew shouted as he did his best to avert his eyes. Pan, however, had no shame.
“Beast with two backs! Beast with two backs!”
“Sophia never should have taught you Shakespeare,” Matthew scolded Pan.
Unchastened, Pan gaily yelled, “Beast with two backs! Hang in chains! Beast with two backs! Where’s a fine mort?”
“I truly am sorry,” Matthew called back to the couple just as the dragoons came stampeding into the alley. Quickly, Matthew slipped into another narrow passageway and then another. He’d gone about a hundred yards when he realized he’d blundered into a dead-end.
His heart, already pounding from exertion, slammed against his rib cage with what felt like enough force to crack his sternum. Matthew did not give in to panic, though, for in uncontrolled fear lay death. Instead, he harnessed his heightened senses as he madly looked for an escape.
“Roof! Roof! Roof!” Pan called happily. He loved when Matthew jumped from one building to the next.
Matthew ignored the parrot. Thankfully, Matthew’s gaze landed upon a low-lying structure that appeared to be a stable of sorts, jammed between the taller structures. It might make a good passage to another alley or, at least, a place of temporary shelter.
Matthew threw back the rickety half door and bolted inside… only to come skidding to an ignoble stop. Bits of straw flew everywhere as Matthew found himself face-to-face with a goat. An angry, thoroughly disgruntled billy goat.
Matthew froze. The goat did not. It simply kept chewing the straw in its mouth as if daring Matthew to take another step. Its already unholy eyes glowed in the moonlight streaming in the windows behind Matthew. He could only pray that the animal didn’t start screaming.
The goat continued to watch Matthew—a long piece of dried grass slowly disappearing between its crooked teeth. The tuft at the end of the blade switched back and forth in an almost mesmerizing and oddly intimidating sway.
Matthew moved to the left, hoping to squeeze past the cloven-footed sentry. The animal casually scuttled in the same direction. Matthew bobbed to the right. The creature blocked him again. Matthew feinted to the left and then dove right. He didn’t fool the capra. The goat shuffled into Matthew’s path, not even breaking the rhythm of its mastication.
The head of the straw disappeared between the goat’s lips. The horned beast immediately lowered its head as if it had been waiting to finish its snack before charging. One hoof struck the ground. Then the next. The creature’s sides puffed out before it emitted a displeased huff.
Matthew didn’t wait for the goat to lift another leg. He jumped onto the three-foot wooden partition bisecting the stable. Hedashed across the narrow surface, spreading out his arms in an attempt to maintain his balance.
It didn’t work.
He fell headfirst into a pile of straw of questionable freshness. As he worked to extricate himself from the malodorous mound, he told himself that he should at least be grateful that he’d landed on the non-goat side of the dilapidated structure.
“Fiend!” Pan cried out.
Matthew jerked his head toward the wooden divider, and to his horror, he saw the tips of horns. Slowly but steadily, more of the spikes appeared. Next, eerie, snake-like reddish-gold eyes eased into view.
The deuced devil must have found a crate or another object to scale.
When Matthew spied the tip of the creature’s pink nose, he clamored for purchase in the shifting pile of pungent straw. Somehow, Matthew managed to grip the sill of a rather narrow window. He did not have time to properly calculate if he could squeeze through.
When Matthew heard the ominous thud of a hoof on top of the partition, he heaved his body upward. Pan flew into the air and stayed behind in the stable. Matthew could hear the bird’s wings beating in the air as he cackled, “Stop, fiend! Stop, fiend!”
