A huff of annoyance slipped from his lips. “The two of you have caused a great deal of trouble by upsetting the timing of my plans. But her ink will soon run dry. As for the brat, he’s no use to me anymore, and since I have to kill you, I may as well do away with both of you at the same time. She’ll be next.”
“Just one last question,” said the earl, dutifully turning to march back to the storage area, satisfied that he had gained the boy enough time to be out of harm’s reach. “How did you know I was here?”
“Physics, my dear Wrexford! Newton was, among other things, a serious student of light,” said Lowell, looking extremely amused at his own cleverness. “I saw the reflection of you overhead in the metal casing of my lantern.” They passed through the two doors. “Oh, and in case you are wondering how I know the imp of Satan is still tied to the chair, I spotted a knife that had fallen atop a stack of burlap sacks. It had to be yours, as it wasn’t there this morning.”
He laughed again. “You were not half bad at solving intellectual conundrums, but as a knight in shining armor, you’ve proved to be a bumbling fool.”
“So it would seem,” affirmed the earl.
Lowell’s mirth proved short-lived. A vicious oath rent the air as he looked into the alcove and spotted the empty chair.
“How—” he began.
Wrexford turned to face him. “Poof!It was alchemy, my dear Golden One, not physics. Newton was, among other things, a religious fanatic who spent much of his time dabbling in the occult!” He knew he was playing with fire. Lowell’s trigger hand was now quivering with fury, but he hoped to use the man’s overweening pride and nervous anger against him.
“I used an ancient unraveling incantation,” he said, goading his captor to lose his temper. “And a black magic levitation spell.”
Lowell clenched his free hand in a fist and swung at the earl’s head.
Wrexford was ready. Ducking away, he grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted hard.
Lowell screamed in pain.
In the same movement, he slammed his knee into Lowell’s thigh, buckling the man’s leg. “It’s far easier to attack a helpless child, isn’t it?” The pistol fell to the floor and skittered off into the gloom.
Wrenching his hand free, Lowell stumbled back a step.
“I may be a bumbling fool, but you don’t really think I was stupid enough to come here alone, do you? Now that the lad is free, the authorities will be moving in.” Artistic license, but no doubt Charlotte would approve. He snapped open Hawk’s pocketknife. “The game is over, Golden One.”
A hesitation, and a hand waved in surrender. The distraction was only for an instant, but at the same time Lowell spun around and raced for the still-open door.
Wrexford was right on his heels, but the other man was too quick. He lost ground in the short corridor, just enough that Lowell reached the laboratory first and managed to slam the portal shut in his face.
He heard the key turn in the lock.
Damnation.The building was riddled with passageways, and many of the old warehouses in this part of Town were interconnected by way of the cellars. If Golden One managed to slip away and reach the subterranean labyrinth, he and his deadly formula might very well escape to France.
Spotting his pistol on the floor, he grabbed it up. Pulling the vial of Lowell’s chemical from his inner pocket he wrenched off the top and sprinkled some of the powder between the latch and the molding. He then stepped back, took close aim at the door, and, turning away to shield his face, pulled the trigger.
The wood exploded in a welter of flying splinters, one of them cutting a gash across his temple. A kick loosened the bolt. Another, and then another. On the fourth, the door sprang free. The earl burst in, just in time to see Lowell stuff some papers and a metal flask into his pocket and dart into a side alcove.
He shoved aside a work cart on wheels, sending a rack of glass vials crashing to the floor. Broken glass crunched under his boots as he sprinted after his quarry.
Thank God for the thick soles.
In the alcove was a half-open paneled door, revealing a narrow circular iron staircase that led up into darkness. Hearing rapid-fire steps above him, Wrexford plunged in, taking the treads two at a time. Up, up, up he went, feet pounding at a dizzying pace. He heard another door open and shut. The stairs made one more turn and ended abruptly on a small landing.
Sensing he was catching up, the earl lowered his shoulder and barreled through the wood paneling at a run.
Lowell was only a dozen strides ahead of him, and looked to be limping. He looked back, and seeing that the distance between them was narrowing, he suddenly cut to his right and disappeared behind a billowing sheet of canvas.
“Damn,” muttered Wrexford, taking a moment to assess his surroundings. The chase had brought them to the top floor of the warehouse, a cavernous space that stretched the full length of the building. It was crammed with aisle upon aisle of old mining supplies—the detritus of Canaday’s failed business venture? In this row, racks of ghostly pale tarps fluttered in a gust of air let in through a broken windowpane.
He slowed his steps and shifted his weight to the balls of his feet.
Flap, flap, flap.He didn’t need the whispered warnings to stay alert.
At the next gap, he turned to make his way to a less cluttered vantage point. Halfway along the line, the rasp of metal on metal sounded for just an instant. Wrexford ducked, just as a pickaxe tore through the canvas, smashing the wooden frame overhead. Spinning sideways, he pushed through the tangle and lunged for Lowell. He caught the chemist’s wrist but Lowell twisted and hammered a hard blow to his hand.
