The Curious Case Of The Clockwork Menace (18 page)

Priming the
pistol, Garrett ducked around the prop, and aimed a shot off,
nearly hitting Rommell. His lordship ducked with a startled curse,
as though he couldn’t believe anyone would dare try and shoot him.
Garrett slammed back behind the prop, and tipped his head back,
breathing hard. He had five shots remaining. Just enough to
hopefully keep them at bay, and give Perry time to get there.

“
So, it
was
you, Rommell,” Garrett called. “What happened? Finally grew
weary of being rebuffed by a theatre actress? It seems not even you
can buy everything you want.”

“
That bitch should have known where her loyalties lay,”
Rommell snapped. “I’m not the type of man one mocks.”

“
So you killed her?”

“
As if I got my own hands dirty,” Rommell snarled.

That explained
his alibi for the day Nelly went missing. He’d bloody paid someone
else to do the job.

The other
assailant, no doubt.

“
How did you find out that Nelly’s heart lay elsewhere?”
Thoughts raced through Garrett’s mind. Was it the posy of peonies
that had tipped Rommell off? “You had someone in the theatre spying
on her, didn’t you?” If so, then Rommell had put someone into the
theatre only recently - as the first lot of peonies had come on
Nelly’s birthday - and from the theatre records, only one man had
been recently employed. “It’s Millington, isn’t it? You saw the
peonies, and how much Nelly adored them, and so you set someone
into the theatre to find out who had sent her the flowers. And he
tracked Nelly back to James Hobb, didn’t he?” No doubt Nelly had
gone to visit her brother, never knowing just what trouble was
following her.

“
Very well done, Reed,” Rommell’s voice was silky. “A shame
you’re not going to be able to do anything about this
information.”

“
Lovecraft saw Hobbs die, and followed Millington back to the
theatre, didn’t he?” Garrett
continued, as
though he’d said nothing.

“
Actually, I walked straight into him as I were leavin’ Hobbs’
shop,” Millington offered. “Guess the filthy bastard figured out
what had happened, and followed me.”

“
I’m here,”
Perry whispered, through the aural communicator.
“Keep them
talking. I’m
going after Millington. His lordship’s holding that pistol like
it’s a dueling weapon, but Millington’s creeping up on your
left.”

Relief was
swift. “Be careful,” he whispered, then lifted his head to call, “A
shame that Millington wasn’t more thorough. You killed the wrong
man. Hobbs was Nelly’s half-brother. Her lover is still alive.”

Silence
greeted his response.

“
What
?” Rommell asked, in the kind of
voice that indicated he had directed his words at
Millington.

“
Don’t move!” Perry’s voice rang out from behind them all.
“You’re both under arrest for murder, and conspiracy to
murder.”

A shot rang
out, and Perry cursed. Three more shots fired in rapid
succession.

That
drove Garrett to his feet.
“Perry?” he called, easing past the prop just enough to see. Was
she all right?

Millington was
dead on the ground at Perry’s feet, and she had her pistol trained
on Rommell, who returned the stance.

Garrett eyed
his lordship through his own shaking sights. “Drop your weapon, my
lord. I won’t hesitate in shooting you.” A nasty little smile
curled over his mouth. “Indeed, I’d quite enjoy it.”

Rommell
stepped forward coldly, his pistol focused on Perry, and his eyes
flickering to Garrett. “And now we face a conundrum, Reed. Because
I’ll shoot the bitch, regardless of whether I go down too. I
promise you that. Perhaps you should put your we–”

Perry kicked
the pistol out of Rommell’s hand. She spun, drilling her knee up
into Rommell’s balls, and then drove an elbow sideways into his ear
when he crumpled with a scream.

“
You, my lord, are under arrest,” she said, yanking the pair
of manacles from her belt, and jerking Rommell’s arms up behind him
with visible relish. She snapped the cuffs into place. “For
orchestrating the murders of Nelly Tate, James Hobbs, and the man
known as Lovecraft.”

“
One crucial mistake, my lord.” Garrett gave a pained laugh.
“You should never underestimate a woman with a gun.”

Rommell looked
like he was crying. “You b-bitch! Don’t you know who... I
am...?”

Perry stuffed
her handkerchief in his lordship’s mouth, and gagged him. “Of
course I know who you are. You’re the man who’s going to be
decapitated for his crimes. It’s going to be all through the
papers, so all of London society shall know who you are too.”

“
Nice work,” Garrett said, leaning back against the wall, and
pressing his hand against the bullet wound in his shoulder. Pain
flared up his nerves, but he breathed through it.

“
I just needed his attention focused elsewhere.” Perry gave a
fluid shrug. “Thank you.” Then her eyes locked on him, her irises
darkening as the hunger within her rose. “You’re
bleeding.”

“
I’ll live.” Garrett slid down the wall, his back pressed hard
against the timber paneling. Bloody hell. His legs felt like
jellied meat.

Stepping over
Rommell, Perry hurried to Garrett’s side and knelt, the tight
leather of her trousers straining over her lean thighs. “Are you
all right?”

“
Rommell’s about as good a shot as he is at seducing
women.”

“
Bad jests? I guess you can’t be that injured.” Still, she
frowned. “Let me look at it.”

Garrett
endured her poking and prodding. Her dark hair tumbled over her
eyes as she bent her head closer to examine his wound. “Through and
through,” she said, in relief. “By the time we get back to the
Guild, it probably won’t even require stitching. It’s already
healing.”

“
Excellent.” He felt somewhat dizzy; just enough that he
actually leaned toward her.

Perry slipped
her shoulder under his. Vanilla oil flavoured the air he breathed,
along with the faint scent of the soap she used. “Do you think
you’re well enough to stand? I’ll need to contact the Guild so that
they may fetch Rommell.”

The faint
flicker of her pulse in her throat caught Garrett’s attention. His
vision blackened out again, becoming nothing more than shadows as
the hunger surged within him.

Garrett
squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed. “Perry,” he warned.

She knew
better than to come near an injured blueblood. Stillness radiated
through her as Perry realized it. Feeling her gaze upon him, he
opened his own eyes.

Hers were very
big and gray, surrounded by thick dark lashes. She was so close,
that if he wasn’t reigning himself in sharply, Garrett could have
closed his fist in her hair, and dragged her head back to reveal
that tantalizing throat.

And she knew
it too. Perry’s startled outtake of breath dampened his lips. Her
eyes widened even further, and for a moment he was lost in them, as
blackness chased the color from her irises.

So close
... And he wanted to do it,
Garrett realized. Wanted to taste the sweet, cool slide of her
blood. Every muscle in his core trembled from the sheer
want
of it.
Hell
. He turned his face
away, letting out a shuddering breath.

“
Here.” Perry tugged a flask of blood from inside her coat,
and unscrewed the lid, her cheeks flushing with color. “Drink
this.”

He could
almost scent the heated blood in her veins, and his darkened gaze
dipped to her throat once more, but Garrett forced himself to drink
from the flask, sating some part of his dark hungers, at least.

A bloodletting
was always an intimate event between a blue blood, and the woman he
drank from. It was also highly pleasurable for both of them. His
cock hardened at the thought, and Garrett shifted his knee so that
Perry wouldn’t notice.

Hell, if she
even suspected where his thoughts were going she’d probably drive a
knee into said balls. She’d never let him forget it either. Or no,
he thought, glancing at the color in her cheeks - perhaps she
would. Perhaps they’d both pretend it had never happened.

It’s
not
going to happen.
Not
her
, he told himself angrily - or the
darker, hungrier part that didn’t care that she was his friend and
partner.

The hunger.
That was all this was. Though he’d never felt its grip quite this
tightly before.

You’ve never been shot before, either
, he reminded himself.

“
Thanks.” Garrett handed her the flask, and tipped his head
back in a sigh. The burning sensation in his shoulder had lessened,
and the room wasn’t swimming as much as it had been.

“
Think you can manage?” she asked.

“
I’m fine. I’ll keep an eye on Rommell.”

“
Good.” Perry straightened. “I’ll go send a ‘gram to the
Guild.”

Garrett
watched her go, and breathed a little sigh of relief that she was
no longer here to torment him.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

LYNCH LEANED
BACK in his chair, his fingers forming a steeple in his lap as he
listened to their report. “The one thing I don’t understand is how
Rommell thought he would get away with murdering two Nighthawks,
let alone three other people?”

“
It’s a particular failing of his,” Garrett replied
diplomatically. “Rommell seems to think he can buy his way out of
any problem.”

“
His head is in his arse, sir,” Perry added.

Lynch’s firm
mouth softened into a faint smile as he eyed them both. “Is that
everything?”

“
Yes, sir,” Garrett said, standing to attention. “Though
Rommell’s demanding a trial before the Council of Dukes. Says no
human murder is going to bring down a man of his standing, and that
he didn’t get his hands dirty - that Millington planned it
all.”

Lynch
grimaced. “That’s going to be hard to prove.”

“
Not impossible. We have bank records for Millington, proving
a rather substantial sum was deposited there by Lord Rommell, plus
Rommell’s stated confession to both Perry and I. And the murder
weapon was discovered to have come from Rommell’s collection - he’s
a weapons enthusiast, though he has more skill at collecting them,
than using them. Both the Webley and the Colt are accounted for,
according to his records, and Fitz is adamant that they were used
in the murders.”

Lynch slowly
nodded. “Good work. I’ll see if I can place some pressure on the
Council to make the right choices. An example should be made. If
the human classes realize that the Echelon is trying to hush this
up, they’ll end up rioting.”

“
Thank you, sir,” both Perry and Garrett echoed.

The chair
creaked as Lynch leaned back in it. “And your argument? You’ve
worked matters out between you?”

Without
looking, Garrett knew Perry was blushing. “We have,” he told Lynch.
“A minor disagreement, nothing else. It’s done.”

Or at least,
he hoped it was bloody well done.

“
This doesn’t happen again, do you both understand?” Lynch’s
eyes were lazy and hooded, but Garrett knew that it didn’t make the
guild master any less dangerous.

“
It won’t happen again,” Perry said. The vehemence in her
voice made him look at her.

“
It won’t happen again,” Garrett agreed, in a quieter voice,
though he was thinking of what had almost happened to her, rather
than the argument.

That was over
now. He had to keep telling himself that. Perry was safe, and now
that she’d accepted the knife from him, he’d always have a way to
find her if he needed to. The tracking device was a small, hard
lump in his coat pocket, correlating directly to the beacon in the
knife.

A crisp nod -
the matter was evidently finished in Lynch’s eyes. “Dismissed,
then.”

They both let
out a sigh of relief.

Two days
later...

The teahouse near the Guild
was
filled with the noise of teacups
rattling
against their saucers, and the dull murmur of conversation. Perry
sank back into a studded, red leather armchair, and shook out the
paper.

Garrett leaned
on the edge of her chair, and peered over her shoulder, tugging at
the top page. “Not even the bloody front page. How’s that for
gratitude?”

“
Lynch is trying to keep Rommell’s part in this quiet until
the court case is finalized,” she said irritably, shaking the paper
free of his grasp, and smoothing the crumpled sheets. “His house is
a powerful one. The Duke of Morioch is his cousin, I
believe.”

“
Don’t know how you keep track of them all...” His voice
trailed off, which was good, as she didn’t quite know how to answer
that.

Lie to him about her origins?
The
thought made her feel uncomfortable. They rarely spoke about where
they’d come from, and she was quite content with that. After all,
what was she to say?
Surprise, Garrett, I
grew up with a copy of Lady Hammersley’s Guide to the Peerage in my
hands. I know every lord in the land, and even their consorts and
thralls - or I did once. I also know how to curtsy and dance,
and
play the pianoforte
horrendously...