“Come now, boy,” the man said in a voice so familiar that it set Zach’s body to trembling. “Let us get you back where you belong.”
CHAPTER 22
Lenoir nestled deeper into the collar of his coat. The sky hunkered low over the buildings, shedding its watery burden in relentless sheets. Lenoir’s thinning hair was flattened against his skull, and he cursed himself for being without a hat. That’s what you get for being an uncivilized brute, he thought wryly. He needed to find someplace warm and dry, someplace he could think things through. He turned his horse toward the nearest haven he could think of.
“My word, Nicolas!” Zera exclaimed when he appeared at the top of the stairs. “You look half-drowned!” Turning to a servant, she called, “Brandy! And towels, quickly!”
Lenoir planted himself in front of the fireplace. Steam immediately began to curl off his overcoat. Zera hovered, her eyebrows stitched together in displeasure as she stared at the puddle accumulating at Lenoir’s feet.
“My apologies,” he muttered. “Would you prefer I stand on a carpet?”
“I certainly would not. I would never get it dry in this weather.” She took his coat, shook it out, and handed it to a servant. “Why in God’s name did you let yourself get this wet, anyway? Where have you been?”
Judging the second question more important than the first, he said, “At Castle Warrick.”
Zera could not have looked more shocked if he had suddenly sprouted horns. “Castle Warrick! Whatever for? I thought you were in fear of your life, Nicolas! What happened to all that business about a vengeful spirit? For that matter, what about the boy you were supposed to be finding?” There was something disapproving about her tone, as though she had caught him gallivanting about instead of seeing to his duty. Even as she berated him, however, she dragged a chair to the hearth so he could sit. Being a proper hostess was utterly ingrained in her.
“Thank you,” he sighed, sinking gratefully into the chair. It was the least splendid of her furnishings, he noticed. He could hardly blame her. “It was my business with the boy that brought me to the duke,” he explained as he propped his boots near the fire.
Zera gave him a wary look as she slipped into one of the winged chairs flanking the hearth. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Lenoir grunted. “The duke expressed a similar view.” He paused to accept his brandy from the servant. He took a long sip, rolling the sweet fire on his tongue before he continued. “It is probably too much to explain. Suffice it to say that I think the duke’s tragedy plays a role in all this. I think someone is trying to help the duke replace his lost son.”
Zera let out a humorless laugh. “Replace his son? Don’t be absurd! We are talking about a child, not a pet. One cannot simply replace a dead boy.”
“I know how it sounds.” He took another sip of his brandy. “Tell me, Zera, have you ever heard of necromancy?”
She stiffened, the color fleeing her lips. Anger flashed briefly in her eyes before she mastered herself. “Would you ask me that if I were not Adali?” she asked coldly.
“Probably not. I mean no offense by it. I thought it was the quickest way of explaining my theory.”
“Your theory involves black magic?” she sneered. Lenoir had never seen her so waspish, but then, he had never waved her race in front of her before either. He had not realized her anxiety ran quite so deep. It was as though she considered her place in society to be nothing more than a fragile illusion, a spell that might break at any moment.
“My theory involves people who believe in black magic. And perhaps even some who don’t. For myself, I scarcely know what to believe anymore. After all, I have spoken with a spirit from beyond.”
If possible, Zera’s lips became even paler, parting with terrible awe. “Spoke with it? My God, Nicolas! Never mind the duke—what happened with the green-eyed man?”
Lenoir hardly knew where to begin. “I knew I couldn’t escape him, so I decided to make a deal with him.”
She gaped at him, aghast. “Are you mad? You would strike a bargain with a demon?”
“A demon?” Lenoir echoed thoughtfully. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he is an avenging angel. It does not really matter, does it? Either way, my life is forfeit.” He was surprised at how calmly he spoke the words. “I had nothing to lose by offering myself to the green-eyed man. So that is what I did. I offered to help him hunt down those he wishes to punish, in exchange for his help in finding Zach. And he agreed, if you can believe it.”
Zera sprang from her chair, her eyes glazed with fear. She began to pace in front of the hearth. Lenoir was touched by her concern. There were few people in the world who cared whether he lived or died. “You offered to help him hunt down those he wishes to punish,” she repeated slowly. Her gaze turned on him, and it was accusing. “You offered to hunt down people just like you.”
Lenoir blinked. He had not really thought of it in that light. Even if he had, however, it would not have changed his decision. “Perhaps people like me deserve their fates.”
“How wonderfully convenient your fatalism is,” she snapped. “It excuses your actions as well as your inaction. It lets you condemn others even as you wallow in your own self-pity.” She resumed her pacing. “Why didn’t you flee, Nicolas? Why not leave this place behind, just as you did Serles?”
“There is nowhere I could go that he would not find me.” Lenoir paused, shrugging. “I have accepted this, Zera. I am at peace with it. All I want is to find Zach before my time comes.”
She folded her arms tightly over her chest, as though shielding herself. “And the spirit will help you do that?”
“He has already led me to two of the kidnappers. Neither of them had the boy, but we were close.” So close, but we still left empty-handed. Lenoir stared down into the amber liquid in his glass, fighting to suppress a sudden wave of hopelessness. He had come here to think through his next move, but he was no closer to deciding what to do when darkness came.
“Where will you go next?” Zera asked, as though reading his thoughts.
He gave a despondent little shake of his head. “I don’t know. The spirit will return at dark, and I will have to report on my meeting with the duke. If the spirit is not satisfied that I have made any progress, our deal will expire, I think.”
He looked up at Zera. She was standing over him, scowling. “I still don’t see what Warrick has to do with anything.”
“If the rumors about the duke are true, he murdered his family in a fit of passion, only to bitterly regret it later on. What if someone offered him the chance to restore his son to him?”
“Rumors. Is that what you are reduced to now?”
“It is only a hunch,” he admitted. “But I have grown to trust my hunches. Every good inspector does. Sometimes, to connect the dots, we must make a leap of faith.”
“A leap of faith?” Zera arched a finely sculpted eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound much like you, Nicolas.”
“Perhaps not anymore, but it was once very like me. And it was like Kody too, which is why he drew a connection between the corpse thieves and the kidnappers before anyone else did. He was smarter than I gave him credit for. He saw the pattern, though we had no idea what to make of it at the time.” Lenoir realized belatedly that he was already referring to Kody in the past tense. How quick you are to give up hope, Lenoir.