Secrets of the Highwayman (17 page)

Eddie had left the portrait in the library,
resting against Miss Pengorren’s desk. Melanie stood in front of it with Nathaniel just behind her, not touching her but close enough that she could feel the security of his presence. They were still disheveled, still shaken, but calm, too. Melanie knew what Nathaniel said made sense. Pengorren was trying to strip them of all that made them human, and they had to resist him. They didn’t understand what he was up to, what drove him and why, but they knew enough to be able to remain safe from him.

For now.

“His face is gone,” Melanie said, disappointed, although Eddie had warned her that the portrait was damaged. “I really wanted to see his face. I thought if I recognized him, then I’d be able to prove to myself he was the man I saw on the beach that day.”

“You don’t have to prove anything, Melanie. Pengorren is here, and we both know it.”

“Are any of the other portraits affected like this?” Melanie asked suddenly.

“Not as far as I’m aware, and I’ve been all over the house. Do you think this is more than just bad luck?”

“I don’t know.” She dragged her fingers back through her hair, tousling it worse than ever. “That’s just it, isn’t it? No one knows.”

He leaned closer, frowning at the portrait. Melanie tried to see what he saw. The face and a good deal around it was gone, and the paint and canvas had turned an unpleasant brown color.

“What’s that chain around his neck?” she asked curiously. “Not a cross, surely.”

“No, it was a locket. He always wore it. He said it was his mother’s.”

“The key?” Melanie murmured.

Pengorren’s body was still intact. He was wearing clothing similar to Nathaniel’s in his portrait, and the scene behind him was also very similar—Ravenswood and the trees of the park—but with the addition of a woman with dark hair and a child. They were both looking toward Pengorren, who dominated the scene.

It was meant to be Sophie, Melanie supposed, and their child. Before she was locked away? Or was this simply an artist’s impression of the happy family that never existed?

“I imagine it wouldn’t be polite to paint in Dorrie and the other women and their other children,” she said dryly. “They weren’t for public consumption, although everyone knew what he was up to.”

“He used them all.”

“Is that what Pengorren has planned for me? Bonking everything that moves?”

Nathaniel cupped her face in his hands and immediately the sexual desire began to stir. “I’m more than capable of keeping you satisfied,” he said, with the sort of male arrogance she usually found so irritating but in him it was a turn-on.

“I’m sure you are,” she whispered, the heat uncoiling inside her.

Abruptly he jerked his fingers away from her skin. Stepped back. “Close your eyes, Melanie,” he said gruffly, “unless you want to spend the day in bed.”

“Tempting,” she replied, obediently closing her eyes and trying for a normal voice, “but I’m hungry. Peanut butter sandwich?”

Nathaniel was trying, too. “Cheese and pickle.”

“Lovely.”

They made their way downstairs to the kitchen, being very careful to keep their distance and not to touch each other.

The queen smiled to herself as she inspected the cave at the end of one of the narrower tunnels in the between-worlds. It was cramped and gloomy, and perfect for Pengorren. She’d be able to drop in and visit him as she was passing, just to remind him of all he’d lost by betraying her.

Of course he might escape her again, it was possible, but she didn’t think so. His greed would be his undoing. He’d be unable to resist the bait. And he always
underestimated her, believing himself to be cleverer and more cunning. A fatal mistake.

I am infinitely patient.

But then, she could afford to be. She didn’t need to replenish her life force as Pengorren did.

The queen smiled again. Pengorren and she would have lots to talk about, and she would make sure she kept him alive.

More or less.

“No one makes a fool of me. Let that be a warning to you all!” Her voice rose and rushed through the tunnels like a windstorm. The creatures shuddered and hid, the waiting souls cried out in fear, and the doors to the between-worlds shook and rattled.

And far away, Pengorren lifted his head and listened, and knew he was running out of time.

Melanie was soaking in the bath. The water was warm, just verging on hot, but the truth was she felt too keyed up to relax. It was as if her metabolism had kicked up to high and she couldn’t slow it back down. She’d never been lacking in energy, but this was different, and anyway she should be well and truly tired after all that had happened over the past few days. Any normal woman would be completely exhausted, but not Melanie—it was like she was on a constant natural high.

Or
un
natural, maybe.

She climbed out of the water and picked up the towel to dry herself. While she attended to her dripping hair, she let her thoughts drift back to Nathaniel. They tended to do that a lot, but this time they were bittersweet. She
had found a man who was everything she wanted—although she’d always thought she wanted something else, but now she knew better—and he couldn’t stay. It was going to be impossible for them to have a happy ending together.

No long leisurely breakfasts in bed, no cappuccinos at the local café and reading the Sunday papers, no walks hand-in-hand and feeding the ducks, no sitting on the couch watching movies and kissing when the commercials came on…

She sensed the stirring in the air around her a moment before she heard it behind her.

Breathing.

The hairs stood up all over her body, but she didn’t turn. She had already pinpointed it; somewhere over near the cupboard where the fresh towels were kept folded. Heavy, labored breathing, as if whoever was over there was sick. Or very old.

Slowly, reluctantly, Melanie lifted her gaze to the mirror.

The steam had dissipated slightly, but the room was still damp and cloudy. It blinded her. But there was a darker shadow through the steam, something that looked as if it was bent over. She recognized it. The thing she had seen in the library was here in the bathroom, and this time it was blocking her access to the door.

Just for a moment she was numb with horror, staring at the reflection. And then the creature swayed forward, and she could hear the dry rustling as it dragged itself across the tiled floor. As it moved, the steam billowed away from it, and she saw that the head was still bowed,
although the white tufts of hair were longer than before and there was more of it so that it almost completely covered the gleaming skull. Shocked, she saw that the body had expanded, too, bulked out.

Whatever it was, it was growing.

As if to prove her point, the creature began slowly to straighten up.

She screamed for Nathaniel.

She could not turn, she dared not turn, but in the mirror she could see eyes. Small, bright eyes that glowed like neon lights.

“Melanie.” It spoke in a voice that was like the crackle of old parchment. “Do not fight me. You are mine, blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh…”

Melanie screamed again and stumbled forward against the washbasin and counter, scattering shampoo and cosmetics as she scrambled to climb on top. She slipped, bruising her hip, and fell to the floor. Quickly, she rolled over and pressed herself back against the drawers, not even feeling the metal handles digging into her flesh. Through her wet and tangled hair, she faced the thing that was shuffling toward her.

That familiar sense of evil, that sickening cloud of malevolence, wafted over her and filled the room. She could taste it, and for a second she thought she was going to retch. But there was no time to be sick.

“Go away!” she screamed, reaching above her to scrabble with her hand on the basin and finding the cake of soap. She threw it.

The cake struck the thing in the middle of the chest, but it didn’t seem fazed. It came on.

“Oh God, oh God…”

Next she threw her tube of toothpaste, then the washbasin plug, and then a bottle of expensive moisturizer. Nothing stopped it; it was as if it couldn’t feel pain. Or maybe it was just so intent on getting to her that it didn’t care what she did.

The creature’s hand, more like a claw really, stretched out toward her, shaking as though it had some sort of dreadful palsy. Its face was so close now that she could not mistake it for anything other than a human face, but so old. Old beyond any possibility that it could still be living. The skin was yellowed and dried out, like something that had lain in the sun for decades, and the mouth was just a slit, without lips, without teeth. Melanie threw back her head and let loose another piercing scream.

She felt it touch her on the leg, the brush of brittle fingernails, and she jerked away in horror, crawling across the floor toward the door, sobbing for help.

The door was shaking. She hadn’t realized, until now she hadn’t heard the crashing and thudding as someone outside tried to break it down. And then suddenly the lock burst open, and Nathaniel was there. He had never looked more wonderful.

She clung to him, still sobbing hysterically, but deep inside where it was calm she knew that the thing was gone. That when she finally lifted her head and dared to look, the bathroom would be empty.

It took a very long time for Melanie to calm down.

Nathaniel found her description of what she had seen awful enough, but what really worried him were her
stumbling efforts to explain to him the dark air of evil that clung to it like a cloak.

“It came for me,” she said, over and over again, as he held her. “It called me by my name.”

Nathaniel held her tighter, as if he could save her with the strength of his arms.

“It touched me.”

She pulled away and pointed down to her leg and then froze. There was a mark on her skin, like a small burn, and it was red and blistered. It was similar to the mark on her hand—now gone—only more prominent.

Nathaniel swore. His fingers hovered over the injury but he didn’t touch it. “Did you feel anything when…?”

“No,” she said, eyes wide with horrified wonder. “I…I think I was just too scared to feel anything. I was more intent on getting away. But now…” She leaned her face wearily against his shoulder. “Nathaniel, I feel completely exhausted. I just want to go to sleep.”

It was understandable that she should be tired out, anyone would be. But Melanie wasn’t anyone. She had told him that she thought this time the creature was stronger, looked bigger. More like a man.

Was it using her to fuel its regeneration? Was it feeding off her?

The idea made him sick and furious, but the more he considered it, the more he found it entirely possible.

Melanie could hardly keep her eyes open. Nathaniel lifted her into his arms and carried her to her bedchamber and tucked her beneath the covers. Then he stood by
the window, keeping watch over her, while she slept. He didn’t want to leave her. His time in the between-worlds had taught him that there existed beings far more dangerous than he had ever imagined, and they could, and did, prey upon the innocent.

And this being, whatever it was, wanted her.

Melanie.

Her leg had been burned, and now she lay exhausted in her bed. Nathaniel felt as if he should know what was happening, but he didn’t. Was this something connected with Pengorren, or was it something else?

Melanie believed Pengorren had chosen him because he envied him and wanted to be like him. That Pengorren was consumed with jealousy and envy, and he wanted to take Nathaniel’s life. But where did Melanie fit in?

Melanie made a soft sound, and he looked up sharply. She had turned her head toward him and her face appeared smooth and untroubled in sleep. Most of the siren glow had left her, but it was still there, pulling his gaze back to her again and again. He heard the voice in his head, soft but audible, telling him to climb beneath the covers with her, to use her as he had used other women in his brief and unimportant encounters that had nothing to do with the heart.

“I won’t hurt her or deceive her,” he told it. “She trusts me, and I won’t put that in jeopardy. She’s my woman, and I will protect her, from myself if necessary.”

That he and Melanie had only met such a short time ago seemed remarkable to him. Could he really have fallen in love with her so quickly, or was their attraction
to do with the change in Melanie? Whatever the reason, he wanted to stay with her forever, and yet that couldn’t be. He would succeed and return to the past, or he would fail and be cast back into the dark tunnels of the between-worlds.

Either way he would never see her again.

Melanie was propped up in bed picking at her
toast and marmite, while Nathaniel sat in the chair watching her, narrow-eyed. He’d been watching her ever since she woke up, and she tried to ignore him. It was morning, and she’d slept the whole night through, but she still felt tired and weak. Yesterday she had been like a new woman, but today…she might as well be a hundred. The creature had taken all that from her, drained her of vigor.

Earlier, when she’d brushed her hair and looked in the mirror, she’d realized the strange aura had left her, too. The two obviously went together, because it was definitely gone; she was plain Melanie Jones once more. She admitted she was secretly disappointed about that—her goddess persona had some advantages—but it was a relief not to be ravaged by uncontrollable sexual appetites. Yes, she’d enjoyed sating them with Nathaniel, but the last time things had begun to get frighteningly, dangerously out of control.

“Eddie said he’d be over in a while,” Nathaniel said quietly from his chair.

“You’ve seen him, then?” She pulled another piece off her toast, but couldn’t eat it. She placed it with the other bits she couldn’t eat, on the edge of the plate.

“He brought in some food. He said he’d arrange for feed for Neptune, too, from a local stable. Good man, that.”

Melanie smirked. “Worthy of your patronage?”

“Very worthy.” He stretched lazily, and Melanie found her gaze fastened on him. Maybe her sexual appetites weren’t quite as depleted as she’d thought.

Making love with Nathaniel would rate among the best times of her life. When she was as old as Miss Pengorren, she’d be dreaming of her ghostly lover.

“Miss Pengorren was afraid, wasn’t she? That’s why she left Ravenswood.”

“Whatever she saw over the last few months of her life, it made her want to replace Pengorren’s portrait with mine, and it made her believe that I had been unfairly treated.”

“So we assume she was seeing Pengorren and that he was threatening her…how? If he was like you were when I first saw you, a ghost, then she might be frightened, but she’d know he couldn’t harm her. Why would she abandon her home? I wish she’d left a note.”

“It would have been helpful, yes,” Nathaniel said dryly.

Melanie pulled back the covers and examined the burn on her leg. The injury was healing remarkably fast. There was barely any sign of it left, apart from the fact
that her skin was a little reddened and there was a blister in the center.

Nathaniel had wanted to take her to a “physician,” but Melanie had refused. What would she say when they asked her how it had happened? Besides, it was nothing some painkillers couldn’t ease. She’d had worse sunburn.

“So Miss Pengorren abandoned Ravenswood,” she said thoughtfully. “Or did she hope Pengorren would follow her to London? Maybe she was performing her own exorcism.”

“More marmite?” Nathaniel asked, but he was looking at her legs.

Melanie shook her head slowly. “I didn’t think you liked marmite?”

“It grows on one.”

“Hmm.”

“Are you going to get dressed?”

Melanie glanced up at him from under her lashes. The way he smiled back at her gave her that warm all-over tingle. “Soon,” she said, and did her own stretch, slow and thorough. “I don’t feel like getting dressed just yet.”

“You’re doing that on purpose,” he said in a mock growl.

Melanie laughed, and then grew serious. “It’s gone, isn’t it? Whatever I had yesterday has gone away?”

Nathaniel came and sat beside her on the bed and took her hand, entwining her fingers with his. She looked down at their hands, and they looked so right together it was uncanny.

“It has faded, Melanie,” he said, “but it’s still there. I
can feel it when I touch you and when I look into your eyes. It’s even there when I’m in the same room as you.”

“Perhaps you just fancy me rotten,” she joked, but her smile went awry. “That thing…that thing last night, it told me I was blood of its blood, flesh of its flesh. How can I be? How can I have anything to do with something like that?”

“I don’t know, my darling,” he said, “but we will find out.”

He bent toward her, and a loose strand of his hair fell forward and tickled her cheek. Then he began to kiss her, slowly, until she was drugged with need. He pulled off her pajamas and when she was naked, he pressed her back onto the bed and worked his way from her throat to her breasts until she was squirming. Only then did he move on, tongue warm and wet as he laved it against her stomach, and down. She clutched at his hair, holding him, as he settled himself between her thighs.

Sometime later, after the lights behind her eyes had burst and flashed like fireworks at night, he began to work his way back up again. By the time he’d reached her mouth, Melanie was on fire and more than ready for him to lay his long and graceful body upon hers.

“I’ll bet you do this to all the girls,” she said, but as she looked into his eyes she knew this was different, this was special.

“I’ve never had anyone like you,” he murmured, kissing her.

“What will happen—”

He placed a finger against her lips. “I’ve been sleeping in the between-worlds for almost two hundred years,” he
said. “I may be there for another two hundred. I don’t want to think about that. I want to think about you, how you feel and look and taste, the sound of your voice when we join together. I want to remember you, Melanie, when I’m gone.”

“Nathaniel…”

But what could she say? Don’t go? Don’t fail? Take me with you? Her words wouldn’t help either of them.

“You’re right,” she whispered, as he began to kiss her again. “We have to enjoy this moment.”

They stayed in bed for another hour, and then they heard Eddie calling from downstairs. Nathaniel left Melanie to get dressed and went to head him off.

Eddie followed Nathaniel into the library, shooting quick, uneasy glances around him. “Melanie not here?”

“She’ll be here soon.”

Nathaniel smiled to himself. Eddie was expecting Melanie to pounce on him, and he appeared relieved to hear he’d be safe for a little while longer. “I brought my book,” he said, trying to be nonchalant, but Nathaniel could see how nervous he was about letting him read it.

The “book” was actually a thick bundle of papers bound together with something narrow and stretchy. Eddie held the bundle out like a father offering his baby, and Nathaniel took it from him, carefully, and read the title.

“
Ravenswood Reclaimed.
”

“Reclaimed from
The Raven’s Curse,
” Eddie explained in a self-important tone. “I wanted to redress the wrong done to the Raven, you see.”

“I see,” Nathaniel said quietly, looking at the other man with new eyes, “and I appreciate it. Please, Edward, won’t you be seated?” He gestured to the chair opposite his own.
The Raven’s Curse
was lying on the seat where Melanie had left it. Curiously, as if it might bite him, Eddie picked it up. He examined the cover with a frown, as if he’d never seen it before.

“Oh!” he said. “That’s where I’ve heard the name.”

Nathaniel had his head bent over the pages, already reading. “Name?”

“Trewartha. Melanie asked me if I knew a Mr. Trewartha who ran an antique business. I thought I knew the name, only I’d never heard it in connection with antiques. Now I know why. H. Trewartha is the author of this book.” He held it up. “
The Raven’s Curse.
”

“Trewartha,” Nathaniel repeated, stunned. “Antiques?”

Eddie nodded. “That’s right. Melanie said she’d asked him to come and do a catalogue of Ravenswood’s contents, for the auction. I hope she realizes she’ll be listening to his theories about the Raven while he’s going through the cupboards.”

Melanie had asked Mr. Trewartha to come to Ravenswood to list the contents of the house? The same man who wrote that bloody book, claiming Nathaniel was insane?

The thought of
anyone
touching his things, going through the trunks of family belongings, reducing everything to lists, infuriated him, but he’d steeled himself to the reality of it. But for the author of that book to be
doing it…It was too much! Nathaniel felt sick with anger and resentment. This was
his
house.

Eddie was watching him warily. “Are you all right, mate? You don’t look too good.”

“I don’t like that book,” Nathaniel said with quiet menace.

“No, but he wrote it with quite a bit of authority. I don’t know the details, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Trewartha was related to Pengorren, too.”

“Everyone else seems to be.” Nathaniel tried to swallow his anger.

Eddie laughed. “Couldn’t seem to help himself. And the women didn’t put up much of a fight.”

“Act in haste, repent at leisure,” Nathaniel said piously, sounding like his father.

“Do you mind me asking? You said your ancestor was born on the wrong side of the blanket…I am descended from Pengorren and Dorrie. Can you tell me something about yourself? I’m curious. I didn’t realize there were any Ravens left.”

Nathaniel removed the next page from the bundle on his lap. “A liaison between my fa…Nathaniel senior’s brother, Oscar, and a woman of the town,” he said, silently apologizing to his uncle Oscar, a respectable man who died wifeless and childless.

Eddie considered that for a moment. “I didn’t realize. And I can understand why you’re so annoyed about Trewartha’s book. Family pride and all that. I’m a bit surprised you wanted him here at all.”

“I didn’t know he was coming,” Nathaniel said dryly.

Eddie was finally silenced, and Nathaniel returned to his reading. Only to stop abruptly after a couple of sentences. He reread it, and then looked up at Eddie, his hazel eyes narrowed.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded.
“There is no record of Pengorren’s birth, or any details of where he originally came from. His army records are incorrect, possibly downright lies, and lead nowhere. Historically, Pengorren never existed.”

“It’s true.” Eddie leaned forward with enthusiasm. “It’s as if he stepped off a blank page. If you read on a bit, you’ll see I speculate about whether or not his name really was Pengorren. When I checked the army records at Kew, I found a note written by a woman—a gentlewoman fallen on hard times—who said a stranger had paid her for the use of her deceased brother’s name and address, and she’d heard afterward that he’d risen to be a major in the army. The brother’s name was Hew Pengorren.”

Nathaniel flicked over some more pages, reading here and there as he went.
“Mass murderer?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “
Serial killer?
Good God!”

“I’m writing a real-life historical murder mystery. I offer my own theory of what happened, and it’s up to the readers to agree or not. This sort of stuff is very popular at the moment. What do you think?”

“I think you’re probably right,” he said quietly.

Eddie grinned. “I’ve done plenty of research, but I have to make assumptions when the records aren’t there. Every criminologist makes assumptions, every murder investigator has to take a jump of faith.”

“And you expect your book to be taken just as seriously as
The Raven’s Curse
?”

“Why not? I think it’s just as credible. At least I don’t believe Nathaniel was insane, just gullible.”

At that moment Melanie appeared in the doorway.

Nathaniel had expected to be angry with her, but all such thoughts flew out of his head because she’d dressed in clothing that made his eyes widen and his heart begin to race. She might as well have been wearing nothing—a garment that hung on her hips and barely reached to midthigh, and a tight shirt with no sleeves that clung to her breasts and showed her midriff. But it wasn’t only her clothing that made his breath quicken. Her glow was coming back.

Eddie stared down at his shoes.

“Who was gullible?” she asked, looking from one to the other.

“Nathaniel Raven,” Nathaniel said, when Eddie didn’t answer. “Eddie forgot to tell us that he is writing the history of Ravenswood as a murder mystery in which Major Pengorren is the villain. You tell her your theory, Edward.”

“Yes, please, I’m very interested.” Melanie seemed to glide across the room toward them. Her eyes glittered like pale blue fire.

“I’m going for a different angle,” Eddie told her, his enthusiasm tempered by the fact he was staring at the floor. “From what I’ve discovered, Pengorren was a bit of a mystery man from the start, but he and Raven quickly became friends, despite the difference in rank. I asked myself a couple of questions: What if Raven boasted
about his home and his family? What if he made them sound so attractive that he caught Major Pengorren’s interest? What if Pengorren was looking for somewhere to hide out, to make a new life for himself? Well, naturally, he’d look covetously at Ravenswood, wouldn’t he?”

“But Eddie,” Melanie began, awkwardly, glancing at Nathaniel.

“No, no, hear me out,” Eddie insisted. “Pengorren saved Nathaniel’s life, so naturally he is invited to Ravenswood to be thanked in person. He’s a hero, why wouldn’t he be? But as soon as he arrives things start to happen. First, Mr. Raven senior is killed in a riding accident, then Pengorren takes over the arrangements, making himself indispensable to the widow and family. They all seem to be completely under his spell. Even Nathaniel, the son, who doesn’t seem to realize he’s been targeted. Next, Pengorren marries the widow, and remember this is only a few weeks after her husband has been buried. Unheard of, a terrible scandal, but not one person stays away from the wedding. No one complains. And then his wife dies in mysterious circumstances, and the next thing he’s marrying the daughter, Sophie, who’s already pregnant with his child.

“By then young Nathaniel is dead. He’d taken to holding up coaches and running wild. Pengorren seemed inclined to ignore him for a while, but then Nathaniel started to irritate him, and Pengorren lost his temper. And he had a temper.”

“I can believe Pengorren was a psychopath,” Melanie said decidedly.

“Yes, exactly! Psychopaths haven’t just appeared in
modern times; they have always been with us. Pengorren has all the traits.”