Jacob loved her. His family welcomed her with warmth she’d never known. If only she had all six daggers in her possession, she’d be perfectly content.
“Julianne, wake up.”
She forced one eyelid open. The shades had been drawn to darken the bedchamber, but a thin strip of light stole through a slit in the curtains. The last rays of daylight still burned outside. Judging from the grittiness Julianne felt around her eyes, she hadn’t slept the clock around. She reasoned it must be late afternoon of the same day.
A soft rap sounded on the door, and Viola’s voice came again.
“May I come in?”
Julianne rose and donned a wrapper to cover the corset and all-in-one she’d dropped off to sleep in, as she crossed to admit her friend.
“I’m sorry to wake you, but I simply can’t hold it in a moment longer,” Viola said as she breezed into the room and plopped onto the foot of the bed. “Quinn and I may have found something.”
“Oh?”
“You need to get dressed. Nothing too fancy.” Viola hopped up and opened the wardrobe. She pulled out one of Julianne’s less fashionable half-mourning ensembles, a pale skirt and matching jacket in sturdy bombazine. “This will do.” After draping it over the dressing screen in the corner, she turned back to Julianne, her hazel eyes dancing with excitement. “It may be nothing, of course, but Quinn thinks it’s worth exploring. Oh, this is so exciting!”
Julianne disappeared behind the screen. “What on earth have you found?”
“Not on earth.
Under
it. Well, maybe,” Viola admitted. “Once you and Jacob found your beds, Quinn and I drove to Penton Rise to have a peek around with fresh eyes. Believe me, things look entirely different when you’re imagining what may lie beneath them.”
“I daresay they do.” Julianne wiggled into her narrowest crinoline and slid the skirt over her head. She stepped from behind the screen as she put on the jacket and fastened the mother-of-pearl buttons down the bodice. “Are you going to tell me what you found or am I to guess?”
“Guess if you like, but I’m not going to tell,” Viola said impishly. “I’d rather you see it for yourself.”
Viola continued to resist Julianne’s efforts to draw out her secret and soon the women were joined by the men in Lord Kilmaine’s coach. Traffic clogged the narrow streets, but the coach was much preferable to walking or riding since the November wind whipping through the man-made canyons was raw and tinged with the breath of winter.
When the coach came to a halt, Quinn rolled up the isinglass so they could see out clearly. They were stopped before an unremarkable tavern on a side street at the base of Penton Rise. Then Julianne read the swinging sign over the door and gasped.
The placard proclaimed the name of the place was Merlin’s Cave.
“Seek the dwelling place of spirits beneath the spirits,” Julianne repeated Dr. Snowdon’s rough translation of the codex. “Could it really be that simple?” she wondered.
“Trust me,” Jacob said with a grimace as he alighted from the coach and handed the women down. “Nothing is ever that simple.”
C
HAPTER
23
M
erlin’s Cave was a working man’s tavern, with rough benches and tables worn slick from hundreds of years of pints sliding across the venerable oak. Even though Jacob and the others had dressed down, they still stuck out as “quality” in this salt-of-the-earth haunt.
Unlike the proprietor of the King’s Arms, the ale-keep behind the bar of Merlin’s Cave showed no sign of fawning on them in hopes of drawing in more custom from among their class. The same sort of earthenware mugs the other patrons quaffed from were plopped down before each of them, along with a basket of crusty bread, a dish of clotted cream and bowls of thick stew, featuring mostly potatoes, leeks and rutabaga with very little meat. Jacob eyed each stringy bit of what was supposed to be beef with a healthy dollop of suspicion.
Nothing else seemed to be on the menu.
When the serving girl returned with a fresh round of ale for all, Quinn demanded, “What’s a man have to do to get whisky here?”
“Ask,” she said simply.
“Good,” Quinn said, slapping a sovereign on the table. “Bring your oldest bottle. And four glasses. Clean ones, for choice.”
Jacob watched the girl disappear through a door in the back of the common room that seemed to lead to a descending staircase. “They have a wine cellar,” he said.
Julianne’s gaze flicked to the door. “I wonder if there’s anything beneath it. Spirits under the spirits, you know.”
Viola shivered. “Spirits. Makes it sound as if the place is haunted.”
When the girl reappeared, a low whooshing sound followed her until she closed the door behind her.
“Haunted indeed,” Quinn said.
Jacob shook his head. “We’ve all heard a chimney moan on a windy day. That sound could simply mean there’s an outlet leading from the cellar, possibly a larger void where air currents build up.”
He resisted being more definite. All they had was conjecture. The hopeful expression on Julianne’s face made him cringe. If he was wrong, she’d be sorely disappointed.
“How do we find out for sure?” she asked.
He looked around. The ale-keep was busy pulling pints. A rough-looking group of dock workers had just lumbered in and the serving girl slipped into the alcove where the stew pot bubbled to dish up helpings for them. Jacob turned to Quinn.
“If I’m not back in an hour or two, I’ll expect you to come after me.”
“You mean if we’re not back,” Julianne corrected, lifting her chin slightly.
There was no point in arguing. If he tried to leave her behind, she’d simply follow him. Strangely, he didn’t seem to mind. Even though he had no idea what they might blunder into in the cellar beneath the tavern, he couldn’t imagine blundering into it without her.
“If we’re not back,” he amended with a nod. “We’ll need a diversion here if we’re to slip into the cellar unseen.”
“Leave that to me,” Quinn said. He rose and called to the ale-keep, hefting the bottle of whisky in his direction. “I say, my good man, drinks all around!”
This pronouncement was greeted with cheers and a flurry of activity from the proprietor and the serving girl, who scrambled to find enough shot glasses, clean or otherwise, to go around. Quinn stood and moved about the room splashing whisky into upraised glasses and accepting hearty wishes for his continued good health, laughing and talking with everyone.
And drawing all eyes to him.
“Now’s the time,” Viola said.
Jacob and Julianne moved as quickly as possible to the door at the rear of the common room. They slipped through it and, leaving the world of light behind, descended a set of uneven stone stairs to the wine cellar. At the base of the steps, a kerosene lamp hung on a hook embedded in the rock face.
“Now’s when a fire trick like your friend Sir Malcolm can pull off would come in handy.” Jacob dug a packet of matches from his pocket and lit the wick.
“He’s not my friend,” Julianne said as she peered around him, taking in the dust-laden bottles and ancient kegs. “And I doubt it’s a trick. If you see visions when you touch metal, and I’m certain you do, I’m willing to entertain the possibility that Sir Malcolm can pull fire from thin air.”
The lamp guttered. “His is a damn sight better trick to have at the moment,” Jacob said with a snort.
He trimmed the wick, a task made more difficult by his gloves, but he didn’t want to hear the lantern’s tinny voice. Then he relit it and lowered the flue to protect the flame.
“Stay close,” he ordered and Julia fell into step behind him with her hand resting on his shoulder. They explored the length and breadth of the cellar, but found nothing but rows of bottles lying on their sides and a stack of kegs along the farthest wall.
“There’s nothing here.” Julia’s shoulders sagged.
“I’m here.” Jacob set down the lantern and put his arms around her, but she didn’t relax into his embrace as he hoped. Instead, she trembled. “Easy, girl. There’s nothing to fear in this cellar but getting your skirts dusty.”
“I’m not afraid,” she said testily. “I’m upset. I know it’s stupid, but I was so certain we’d find something.”
“What if we never do?” Jacob asked, tipping her chin up so she’d face him squarely. “You need to start thinking about your alternatives in case we don’t uncover the last dagger.”
“I don’t know why I should think about them. They haven’t changed. I can marry my stepson’s toad-eating friend, return to the stage, or become a courtesan,” she said, ticking off the possibilities on her gloved fingers with bitterness. “Not much of a choice, is it?”
“You’re forgetting one.” He wanted to be her main alternative.
But before Julianne could respond, the whooshing sound they’d heard in the tavern above came again. It was louder, closer and even more like the mournful groan of a disembodied soul.
“There’s our mysterious spirit again. It’s coming from behind those kegs,” Julianne said, pulling away from Jacob to inspect them more closely. The tendrils of hair that escaped her neat coiffure wavered a bit as she drew near. “There’s a definite air current coming from behind them.”
She fairly danced in excitement, like a mare sidestepping and straining at the bit before a race. Her pleasure was a palpable thing, like a rush of lust to his groin. He’d do anything to keep her eyes glittering like that.
“Here.” Jacob handed her the lantern and began clearing away the kegs. After he’d moved half a dozen or so, they discovered a crack starting near the ceiling beams. It widened as it meandered down the stone wall. He quickly muscled the rest of the kegs out of the way.
By the time the cleft in the rock reached the level of Jacob’s waist, the gap was wide enough for a man’s shoulders to fit through. Jacob squatted before the opening and raised the lantern. Light shot into the darkness. “It looks like a tight squeeze, but it seems to open into a larger chamber in a few feet.”
“If we could crawl through that grate into St. Paul’s crypt, we can certainly get through there,” Julianne said, starting toward the gap in the wall.
“Not so fast. Usually I’m a ‘ladies first’ sort of fellow, but not this time. You stay behind me or you stay here,” he said with sternness. “Is that understood?”
She tossed him a saucy smile and raised an eyebrow. “I remember you demonstrating that ‘ladies first’ philosophy quite well. But since we aren’t in a coach or your bed, I’ll be happy to follow you now.”
He nearly choked on his surprise. Her pupils had grown so her eyes appeared nearly black. A flush of color heated her cheeks. He’d heard some women found danger stimulating, that the threat of discovery added spice to a liaison. Even without drugging incense, Julianne was obviously stimulated by mystery, by the chase, by the unknown. He’d have to make sure this woman had her share of adventures in the future if he wanted to keep her happy.
And he wanted that more than anything, he realized. It was the only way he’d ever be happy.
He pulled her close and kissed her, willing her to feel what was threatening to burst out of his heart. She was his mystery, his adventure. Unriddling this woman would take him a lifetime and he was prepared to devote himself to the task.
If she’d let him.
She gave his lip a playful nip as their mouths parted. “Now, let’s go find that dagger.”
“Right,” he said as he turned and bent double to squeeze through the narrow gap in the stone. “After me, then.”
The low hum began as soon as he entered the cleft. The walls of rock were laced with metals. He felt them on the edges of his mind trying to press their way in as he brushed against the sides of the low tunnel. There was the shrill cry of tin, the drone of iron, splashes of nickel and zinc, a sprinkle of gold and silver, their laughing voices a whisper almost too faint to be heard.
He sighed with relief when the fissure in the rock opened into a high-ceilinged chamber. He was able to step far enough from the metal in the walls to make their voices fade. He lifted the lantern and surveyed the chamber as Julianne emerged behind him.
Striations of color streaked the rock face. Pockets of crystal dotted the cave walls, catching the lantern light and sending it dancing over the space in myriad prisms. The air was dry and cool, but Jacob heard the occasional patter of water.
Stalactites dripped from the vault overhead and stalagmites rose to meet them. Against the opposite wall a series of the formations had joined, looking like a rank of eerie, slick organ pipes. A pool glistened, dark and oily, in the center of the chamber.
“Careful,” he said softly. “There may be fissures underfoot as big as the one we came through, so stay close.”
She nodded and grasped his arm. “It doesn’t look as if anyone has been here for a long time.”
Or ever,
he thought but didn’t want to say.
No point in dashing her hopes immediately
. But there was no evidence any human had ever set foot in the cave. The floor was rocky and uneven. There was not even enough dust to capture a footprint. No stones had been gathered into a fire ring. No sign of soot stained the walls.
Jacob made his way over the uneven floor, stopping to help Julianne over the upraised stones that littered the space. “Careful,” he warned. “Don’t want you to turn an ankle or—”
He stopped dead as a low-pitched sound reached inside him and shuffled his innards.
“Do you hear that?” he asked.
“Hear what?”
He took another step and the sound grew louder, deeper. “There’s something here.”
It was similar to the voice of the dagger Julianne had first shown him, but only in the way that a lion in his prime is similar to a house cat. The song of this blade shimmered in the air around him and sank a claw into the base of his brain. He fought to remain upright as it sliced through him.
Jacob hadn’t even laid eyes on the infernal thing yet. He didn’t want to think what it could do once he actually touched it.
“Where is it?” Julianne whispered. Her voice echoed around the chamber in retreating sibilance.
Jacob closed his eyes to concentrate for a few breaths. The agony in his head subsided to a dull ache as he grew accustomed to the unwelcome presence of the dagger’s voice. Then he raised a hand toward the formation that resembled a pipe organ. Power shot into his extended fingers and jolted up his arm.
He swallowed hard. In all his life, he’d never felt such intense energy emanating from a metal. “It’s behind there.”
Julianne took the lantern from him and scrambled toward the formation, untroubled by the nearness of the metal, oblivious to its soul-sucking drone.
“Yes, there’s room to walk behind them,” she called out and slipped behind the tubular structure. Then, much more softly, he heard her say. “Oh, no.”
Only the dismay in her voice moved Jacob toward the source of that diabolical sound. He hurried to her side and found her staring up at a wall covered with daggers hanging from lime-encrusted hooks.
“‘Sons of forest brave halls of stone to leave one lying ne’er alone,’” she quoted from the manuscript. “There are hundreds of daggers. And they’re identical. We can’t take them all. How shall we ever tell which is the one?”