Dominic's Nemesis (3 page)

Members of the audience aggregated in
smallish groups. Cael stood near one of two drink tables…a discreet
distance behind Greyson’s six plus frame. The gent in conversation
with him was older, with meager hair scattered over a shiny scalp.
Dom watched as his brother inched closer. Eavesdropping, no doubt.
The twosome was deep in conversation. So, Cael could be expressive
when it suited him, he thought. Curious of the odd mien marring his
usual poker-face, Dominic began to pace towards his brother.

“What did you say your business was, Mr…”

“Montgomery. Matthias Montgomery. Perhaps the
name is familiar.”

Dom watched Greyson shrug at the comment.
“No. I can
’
t say that it
is.”

“Pity.” For an instant, his eyes
hardened.

Upon closer examination, Dominic noted that
Montgomery
’
s garb was
quite a bit more common of style and thread than the others around
them. No waistcoat, or cravat either. He wore a rough charcoal
jacket over a shirt of equally dull color and would have been
considered stocky if he were shorter. Standing next to the
picturesque Greyson cast him as an impoverished cousin waiting in
the wings to inherit a better lot in life.

“Actually, Greyson, you an’ I is in the same
business. I just ‘andle a different leg of it, you might say.” He
edged closer, nudging Greyson’s arm. The gesture implied a
camaraderie that did not exist between the two men, if the younger
gentleman’s puzzled expression were to be believed.

“How
’
s that, sir. Are you an anatomist?”

“I runs a lunatic asylum for the upper crust
Lords and Ladies
wot
don’
t want a blemish ruining their social calendar. I used
to get about as a Bow
’
Runner in the old days, but found this line of work much more
rewardin
’
financially…and personally too, you understand. Wot
’
s a body to do wit the odd uncle
that goes off the deep end? They
’
d have a right nasty time of it in
Bedlam
’
s general
population. This way is more humane. But if it
’
s like you say, some of ‘em ain
’
t so much touched in the head as
they are adept at otherworldly things, perhaps we could strike a
bargain—”

Greyson cleared his throat without preamble.
“Mr. Montgomery. As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm and
unique…eh, view of cerebral abnormalities, I do not think that we
have enough goals in common to be true colleagues. I am however
honored at your faith in my work. Stay as long as you wish. There
are, I believe some leaflets available, which you might find of
interest. Do excuse me.”

Without giving the gentleman an opportunity
to renew their dialogue, Greyson departed. He did not stop or look
around, but joined a group of eager-looking ladies halfway across
the floor. Montgomery fumed at the cut before snatching a brandy
glass from the table and stalking off in the opposite
direction.

Dominic meandered to close the gap between
him and Cael.

“I did not like that gentleman.” His brother
confessed.

“Greyson?”

“The other one.”

“Yes.” Dominic mused. “There was something
disquieting about him, but he is no fool.”

“It might be better for Greyson if he
were.”

“Do not waste your sympathies. Greyson is no
fool either.”

Dominic grimaced at the swath of disheveled
papers before him. Deeds. Creditors. Unpaid debts. A vaguely
threatening magistrate’s letter. Damn. He needed a break. Like the
funeral, he had hoped to leave the settling of his
father
’
s estate to the
Italian branch of the family. But, events transpired such that he
was forced to play at least a cursory role in Lucca
Ambrosi
’
s affairs.

Dominic abandoned his desk and meandered
around the study, shoveling his hands through the already
disarrayed waves atop his head. He came to stand beside the hearth,
shed his jacket and waistcoat…and longed for a bath and a shave.
Afternoon had not yet resolved into evening, but he was restless
enough to consider retiring to his suites. His grandmother was due
the following morning, and he’d no doubt need a day and a
half
’
s rest to deal with
the old dragon. He dreaded her coming, but he was resigned to
it.

Dominic abhorred visitors in general. He
could narrowly tolerate the skeleton crew of servants required to
keep up an estate the size of his countryside residence. Where
there were people, gossip and innuendo were sure to follow. The
Ambrosi
’
could
ill-afford whispers and murmurings.

Just then, a muffled commotion captured his
attention. Startled, he dashed for the desk to don his spectacles
before heading for the door. In the foyer beyond the main entrance,
Dominic spied Cael and Ethan haggling with his wiry butler. Dominic
dispatched Renfred to his quarters and blade them to join him in
the study.

He knew the instant the door closed that they
bore dire news. Ethan, a paler, older version of himself with warm
eyes and chocolate hair, took up pacing in front of the fire. Cael,
a sturdy port in any storm, came to stand opposite Dominic with the
wide expansion of desk in between.

“I received a summons from the University.”
Cael stated without buffer. “There
’
s been an
incident
involving Stephan and
several other students.”

So, it had finally happened, the thing he had
dreaded since he
’
d first
located his two American brothers. “How bad?” He heard himself
ask.

“It’s uncertain if one young man will ever
recover from his injuries.” Cael informed him. “But there is no
talk of witchcraft or sorcery…yet.”

Good. That’s good. Maybe the damage is still
manageable.

“The headmaster wants him off the premises
immediately.” Ethan inserted mid-stride. “There was mention of
involving the magistrate. It will take no small level of finesse if
we have any hope of keeping it quiet. We must be off post
haste.”

Dominic
groaned.
“I cannot.”

“You have a more pressing matter to attend to
than the possible incarceration of our brother? Do tell.” Cael
injected just the right amount of censure to get his point
across.

Dominic avoided his gaze, knowing his next
words would not be well received. He didn’t feel like arguing with
Cael tonight, but it seemed fate superseded him.

“Nonna descends shortly from Italy to help
settle some concerns regarding the Ambrosi legacy. Gideon informed
me of the Conte
’
s
ill-health some months ago and promised to handle things there,
but—”

“
Conte
Ambrosi
…is dead?” Ethan paused in his pacing.

“Your father died?” He felt Cael amber’s eyes
digging into him. “When?”

“Ahh…A month, perhaps six weeks ago.” He
fanned his fingers at the uselessness of the question. “Does it
matter? Gideon said—”

“To hell with Gideon.” Cael snapped. “Your
father died a month ago and you didn’t mention it? Did you attend
the services at least?”

Ethan came to stand beside Cael. Dominic
imagined he was accustomed by now to playing the arbitrator.

Dom sighed. “I was not overly attached to the
man. You know this. Is it such a shock that I would not mourn his
passing?”

“Say what you will, Dom, but it is unnatural
not to feel something…bitterness even…at the death of a
parent.”

Ethan
’
s voice sliced through a tension thicker than pea
soup. “Cael, that is unfair. Everyone grieves in their own
way.”

Both brothers ignored him.

Dom
’
s gaze held fast to the fire burning in the hearth.
“If you mean to say that I am an abomination, do not bother. I have
always been aware of my place in the world. I am, however, saddened
to learn Stephan has fell victim to the Ambrosi family curse. I had
prayed that you and he at least would be spared.”

“You know, Dom, cutting yourself off from
society will only hasten the madness that you are so afraid is
inevitable. God did not create man alone.” Cael ran a frustrated
hand through his hair. “I am going for a walk.” He turned to
address their other brother for the first time. “Ethan, be ready to
leave when I return.”

* * *

A tranquil breeze whistled through the
scattering of trees, causing the loose foliage on the ground to
flit upward in spiral patterns. The blue-grey sky far off on the
horizon provided a serene backdrop. Unmoved by the picturesque
surroundings, Eden wondered at the irony of such a beautiful place
being the setting for such tragic events. Fate was a cruel
mistress, she thought.

Evening crept in through the trees. Eden knew
she should start back towards the house. Instead, she ambled along
a trail of sorts that carried her beyond the St. James
’
country estate. Some time later
she found herself lost in a dense patch of forest. After a minute
or two of scanning the area, she slumped in acceptance. She felt as
if her spirits were lost as well, cast to the wintry breeze with
nothing to anchor them. The St. James
’
had been her last refuge. What would she do now?
Where would she go?

Her shoes, inadequate for long walks, kept
getting snared under tree roots and low-lying vines. After the
third misstep, she kicked the troublesome things aside and
continued on barefoot, savoring the sharp cold of the soil. She
might have to spend the night in the woods since the approaching
twilight left little chance of finding her way back. She kept
walking out of futility rather than hope. Lord Linley would be more
prone to bar the door than send a search party. A hysterical laugh
bubbled up at the thought.

She stopped short. A clearing. A sizable
clearing. It slanted downward into a pond. Well, it was more of a
marsh, Eden deduced when she came nearer. Wind rustled through the
trees, roughing the surface of the pond. Curious, she crept closer,
her eyes drawn to the murky, moss-colored water. It called to her,
some unseen thrall, luring her ever nearer…to the water’s edge,
where a grotesque thought entered her mind.

What if all the pain could be over? It would
be easy, quick, perhaps not painless, but a lesser torture in the
grand scheme of things. The soggy ground oozed up between her toes.
Eden continued to stare at the reflection in the water’s surface;
her hazel eyes were owlish and un-focused. Wisps of chestnut hair
spilled out from the bun at her nape. To her mind, the lady in the
pond resembled a tragic maiden caught in the cross-fire between two
warring Gods.

Come home to us, Eden. We will take care of
you.

Wait…Chestnut. Her hair should be blonde. She
was knocked off-kilter. The ripples in the water
’
s surface calmed as the wind died down.
Something…someone, an eerie unfamiliar face…or vestige of a face
took shape…a face not her own. In the bowels of the pond, Eden
spied feminine features obscured by tentacle-d hair and the
water
’
s natural
murkiness. That of a smaller, child-like image continuous almost
with the pond lady hovered near.
Eden. Come with us.

Eden did not know when or if she made a
conscious decision to hurl herself in the water. She only became
aware of herself when she inhaled a mouthful of viscous liquid. Her
eyes stung terribly as she flailed around. She gained little
headway towards the surface for all her frantic movements.
Disoriented from lack of air, she grew tired. Her mass of skirts
helped weigh her downwards to certain doom. Resigned, she ceased
struggling and let herself sink, graceful almost, into oblivion.
Her life did not pass before her. Eyes closed, arms outstretched,
Eden
’
s last conscious
impression was that of a man…with olive-skin, black hair, and the
oddest expression she could ever imagine.

* * *

In the thirty or so minutes since Cael had
stalked off, Dominic plunged into silence. As he sat motionless on
the couch between the desk and the hearth, he could sense that
Ethan knew not what to say to him.

“Dom?”

Dominic smiled at the shortening of his name.
Cael and Stephan started the trend. Before them, Ethan would have
been scandalized at the mere notion of a
nickname
. Ethan was as English as the
Queen.

“Do not apologize for him. Cael meant every
word.”

“Tell him the truth.”

“Given the choice I think he’d prefer the
illusion. Besides, his knowing will change nothing.”

“But at least then he would understand.”

“Perhaps
I
prefer he did not know.”
Dominic stood abruptly and faced his brother. “Ethan, as a
physician it is in your nature to heal, to fix things. Your ability
enhances that instinct. You helped to heal my body as much as
possible, and whatever fragment of my soul that still remained. Be
content. My spirit, however, is lost. Cael will learn that soon
enough with no outside help. Then, he will turn his efforts to
Stephan where they belong.”

Ethan acquiesced for the moment, but Dominic
got the distinct impression that this particular debate
wasn
’
t over.

“Where is Cael? He should have returned by
now.”

Dominic frowned, not liking his extended
absence either. “I
’
ll
find him.” He closed his eyes to concentrate on his
brother
’
s lifeforce. It
took him but a moment to locate him…or rather,
them
. “Cael
is not alone. There is another entangled with him.”

“Who?” Ethan stiffened.