“Her name was Ruby Rowe. She worked for my family.”
Ruby!
All these years he had wondered, and she had never left his estate. And yet ... would there really be anything left to recognize her by? How could heknow?
If he was the one who put her there.
My heart plunged, and I raised a hand to my chest.
“Can you tell me when it happened?” asked Mr. Hilliard. “I don’t want to anticipate the coroner, especially before we’ve extracted the remains, but I think it’s no leap to say this body is in an extremely advanced state of decay.”
Harker’s shoulders rose as he took a deep breath. “No leap, constable. It was many years ago.”
At last Harker looked at me, and without any forethought, I gave my head a tiny shake.Don’t tell him the truth.Even if his memory had returned—even if he knew he was responsible—I couldn’t see how any good would come of his confession. Mr. Hilliard would have even more reason to think he’d killed the others.
Maybe he’s tired of carrying it.A hard, hot knot formed in my throat.
Harker’s gaze held mine, and the smallest, saddest of smiles appeared. Somehow I understood—it wasn’t him.
I closed my eyes, relief swelling.
“Mr. Tregarrick,” said the constable, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to do better than that. If you’ll come with me voluntarily to the village, we can sit down like gentlemen and discuss the particulars. I’ll alert the proper authorities and get some men out here to collect—”
Something caught the constable’s attention. Jeremy, once he’d felt safe again, had begun fidgeting next to me, kicking at grass seedheads and dry fern fronds. A moment ago he’d inched around the stone slab to the end farthest from the pool. Reminding me very much of Jack as a boy, he’d picked up a stick and started whacking at the wilting plants at the base of the slab.
“Be still a moment longer, lad,” called the constable. “We’re all going back to the village together.”
“Something’s ’ere, sir,” Jeremy replied excitedly, poking below the slab with his stick. “It looks like a ca—”
“No—no—don’t!” shouted Harker, and the desperate fright in his voice caused me to run toward the boy.
I grabbed him and pulled him against me. I could see movement in the soggy vegetation he’d disturbed. Then a confusing shape, dark andtwiggy, began to emerge. I dragged Jeremy back, but my feet caught in the heather and toppled us.
What crawled from beneath the slab looked very much like a thorn tree—bent and twisted, spotted with gray lichen—but I soon realized my mistake. A familiar creature unfolded and towered over us.
Lips peeled back over glistening fangs. Goosevar snarled and Jeremy screamed.
A cry of shock came from Mr. Hilliard, and Harker shouted another warning. But even had I not been frozen with fear and tangled up with Jeremy, there was no getting away from the monster, accidentally cornered and furious.
But Harker’s unnatural quickness had already brought him. He stood between us and the beast, looking terrifyingly small. There came a long and low growl—not from Goosevar, but fromHarker.
Goosevar curled down until his great muzzle was only inches from Harker’s face. Fog billowed from parted jaws, his breath loud as storm winds.
I had no confidence Goosevar would spare him, or any of us, now that his centuries-old secret was threatened. And strong though Harker was, his strength came from Goosevar. What hope was there of besting him?
But Harker stood against the Goliath and grated out, “Kill me, then, if you can.”
“No!” Hands shaking, fear firing my blood, I unwound my arms from Jeremy and got to my feet. The boy scrabbled and ran for the birchwood.
“Run, Mina!” Harker barked over his shoulder.
Fumbling at my throat for Mum’s cross, I caught the cool silver in my palm and yanked it from my neck.It’s so tiny.
As I quickly knotted the ends of the ribbon together, a shot rang out. I glanced up—Goosevar roared in rage and spun around. I saw the constable behind him—he’d climbed onto the stone slab and aimed a pistol.
Goosevar lunged, swiping at the constable with his long, tapered tree-bone fingers, just as the click before the second shot sounded. Mr. Hilliard was swept off the rock, the pistol firing as he splashed into the pool.
“Harker!” I called, tripping forward and thrusting the cross at him.
