A giant stood in the doorway, ducking his head to avoid hitting the frame. His legs were as large as oak trees, his arms thick with corded muscle. Helena remembered hearing stories of Benandonner who fled from Giant’s Causeway. She thought the childhood tales were nothing more than silly legends Aunt Rowan told the girls to get them to go to sleep. Until now. Surely this man hailed from such myths.
‘We have a problem.’ His voice rumbled like thunder in a dark sky.
‘Can it wait?’ Sinclair glanced over his shoulder, irritation tightening every line in his body.
‘It’s the fox.’
Hamlet!
‘What have you done to him? You monster!’ Fear and anger melded into a wild frenzy in her chest. Her lungs screamed, and her ribs expanded. She couldn’t get enough air.
‘Nothing. Yet. But what ’appens to ’im next depends on you, Miss Blair.’ Sinclair’s dark eyes glinted dangerously.
‘Sinclair, now.’ There was an urgency in the giant’s tone that had Sinclair turning and scowling at the man.
‘Can’t it wait?’
The giant shook his head. Delicate curls, more befitting a young lady than a hulking beast, fell across his brow.
Sinclair muttered a curse and turned. He moved like a boxer, light on the balls of his feet, smooth and lethal in his economy of effort. Pausing at the door, he glared at Helena. ‘I’ll be back soon. And when I return, you will give me what I seek, or you’ll see how monstrous the Devil can be.’
The click of the door was quickly followed by a rush of scalding heat from a vent above her head. She desperately grasped at the last hint of fresh air Sinclair took with him and willed herself to remain calm. If Hamlet was in danger, she couldn’t die without first saving him. Cynthia would need his strength and comfort in Helena’s absence, and she would be damned if she was going to leave her love without the support of their shared familiar.
Pulling with all her strength against the leather ties around her wrists, she lifted her feet to use her body weight as leverage. Hot blood dripped from where the cuffs cut into her skin, but it was useless. She was as powerless as a child.
‘You can’t let me fail in this. I couldn’t save my mother, but I won’t fail Hamlet. I won’t fail Cynthia. Don’t abandon me, goddess. Not now. Please.’ Her voice broke as dry sobs shook her chest. While she had no tears to shed, her soul bled as freely as her wrists. Still, the goddess remained silent.
But another voice wavered in her mind, soft and gentle as a summer breeze.
I’m coming, Helena.
25
Cynthia stopped the carriage several streets away from 5 Bell Street. She approached the Turkish baths on foot, keeping to the shadows, finally thankful for her relentlessly black clothes.
Three large men guarded the front entrance, standing like sentinels in the flickering streetlamps. One had a pistol sticking out of his britches; the other two were taking turns throwing knives at gutter rats. The fools weren’t even trying to hide, confident no one would dare challenge them. She was in the Devil’s playground now and would need to be smarter than Sinclair if she wanted to save her witchy damsel in distress.
Unsure of how to approach, she closed her eyes and focused on her centre and the well of power bubbling there like magma in the earth’s core. The wind breathed over her, carrying with it the scent of bergamot. Helena was close. Her heart thumped painfully, straining for the rhythm of its mate.
The nightingale’s haunting melody echoed through cobblestone streets, and with it the distinct whimper of a caged animal.
Hamlet! I’m here. Where are you?
Holding her breath, Cynthia willed the fox to hear her. To guide her in the right direction.
It’s about time. There’s an alley behind the baths. They brought us through a blue door.
It was all Cynthia needed.
She found the door, and the bolt slid easily with a slight nudge of her magic. Slipping along darkened corridors, she followed Hamlet’s thoughts to the first in a series of rooms and crouched next to the closed door. Muffled conversation carried through the stone walls. Four distinct voices, one of them so baritone, she felt the vibrations of his terse words in her bones.
They are guarding me. Imbeciles, but strong. There are too many for you to overpower.
Cynthia held back her indignant retort and forced calm into her thoughts.
If I can unlock your cage, can you distract them? Give me time to get to Helena?
Now it was Hamlet’s turn to be indignant.
