“Beforeyou came down?” Arthur repeated. “You were on your way to help Rory and I infiltrate a duke’s estate and decided to stop for carrots first?”
Sebastian ran a hand over the back of the mare’s neck, stroking her straw-colored mane. “She didn’t get to go out with the others. Shouldn’t she at least get a snack?”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Out of pure morbid curiosity, what does Wesley have to say about your priorities?”
“Yeah,” said Rory. “Where’s my snack?”
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. “That wasn’t—never mind. You did also bring something for Rory to scry?”
Sebastian fed the mare the end of the carrot, as he pulled the glove from his overcoat pocket. “This,” he said, holding it out to Rory. “I took it from a bedroom in the guest house last night.”
Rory took the glove, frowning. “No fingertips,” he said, exchanging a meaningful look with Arthur.
“Tell me again about your encounter with Wesley’s cousin,” Arthur said, as Rory held the glove and closed his eyes. “Don’t you think it’s odd that he followed you?”
“Yes,” Sebastian said. “But he came right out and told me that is what he’d done. He was not acting like a man who thought he had something to hide.”
“I supposeshameisn’t a concept Wesley puts much stock in either.” Arthur gently touched Rory’s shoulder. “Don’t you go too deep into history there.”
“Don’t worry; I can’t.” Rory opened his eyes with a frustrated huff. “I can’t see the past of this thing either.What the hell is going on with these Valemounts and doctors that I can’t see history?”
“I don’t know, but it has to be something magical,” Sebastian said. “And we think there’s a chance Lord ValemountisDr. Wright.”
He explained Valemount’s absence the day before, Wesley’s train of thought, and the housekeeper’s confusion. Rory let out a low whistle. “But why would the duke have bothered with a disguise onboard the ship?”
“If Valemount was masterminding the destruction of magic by combining two relics, we did foil his plot,” Arthur pointed out. “Perhaps Valemount came to find out what happened to Langford, Alasdair, and Sir Ellery, but he didn’t want anyone to know he’d been in New York.”
“Especially if he murdered Alasdair while he was there,” Sebastian said grimly. “But surely Lady Nora would have known on the ship that her doctor was really her uncle? I don’t think she knows about magic, and even if she did, I don’t want to believe she would be involved in murder.”
“Maybe she’s keeping his secret for other reasons.” Rory pursed his lips. “You said Valemount was gone all day yesterday. What if he was moving Hyde again?”
“Or Hyde’sbody.” Sebastian and Rory both turned to look at Arthur, who seemed deep in thought. “You said the key to unlocking this medallion relic with hunting magic is the death of a paranormal with three kinds of magic,” Arthur said. “And Hyde fits that bill.”
“Shit,” Sebastian muttered. The mare nosed at him again, and he offered up the last carrot, mind racing.
“This estate’s huge,” Rory said. “No end to places you could bury a body.”
“But there’s a graveyard to the east, by the mausoleum and the ruins of the chapel.” Sebastian blew out a long breath. “Maybe we should go look for new graves.”
* * *
“Where is this damn fox?” Valemount said, as they marched down yet another sloping hillside dotted with scattered rocks.
“The dogs keep running off,” Sir Reginald observed with a frown. “But then—nothing.”
Wesley kept his mouth shut.
They’d been out wandering the moor for nearly two hours. He’d watched the landscape like a hawk, but he hadn’t seen so much as a flash of orange indicating an actual fox, and so far his false trails had held the hounds’ attention.
“There are birds, at least.” Geoffrey pointed at a grouping of taller hills ahead, covered in clusters of hardy bushes and short trees. Another ancient, crumbling stone wall jutted out halfway up one of the hills. “I bet we could find some pheasants hiding among the rocks.”
“Worth a look,” Wesley said. And if he could get some separation from the others, he could check that no idiot foxes were hiding up ahead and about to meet an untimely demise at the hands of Valemount’s hounds.
The dogs scattered as they reached the bottom of the new hills, their noses to the ground. As Valemount and the others turned right and started hiking up, Wesley quietly went left, around the hill’s base. He had his revolver in hand, but his gaze was on the ground.
“Hello, foxes,” he called under his breath, as he watched for telltale burrows. “There better not be any of you about. Please tell me your tiny, furry brains understandthe basic concept ofrunawayand you’re not foolishly hanging around these hills, waiting to be found by a bunch of dogs and armed men.”
Still alone, he turned and began to hike up the backside of the hill. About halfway up was a decent-sized tree, its leafless branches stretching above Wesley’s head and a large hole in its trunk.
