“I remember,” said Arthur. “I always had to be Davey’s squire, even though I was the eldest. I didn’t mind. My father was furious when he found out, though.
You’re a viscount!
he used to thunder.
The son of a Lord! Try to act like one!
I always was a disappointment to Dad.” He shrugged, and taking a healthy sip from his drink, looked directly at Holly. “They were good days, then. When we were young, and the world was so simple.”
“You’re getting maudlin, Arthur,” said David warningly. He turned to Holly and smiled reassuringly. “There’s really nothing to worry about, Holly. I’ll protect you, just as I always have.”
“And I’ll do my bit, however small,” said Arthur. “I would defend you with my life, Holly.”
Holly smiled genuinely for the first time, and reached out to clasp each of them by the hand. “I feel so safe with you two here. My guardians.”
“They’ve been gone too long,” said Katrina suddenly. “It shouldn’t take this long to check a few windows. Do you suppose something’s happened to them?”
“It’s too early to start panicking,” said Fisher. “They haven’t been gone an hour yet.”
“Is that all?” said Holly. “It seems longer.”
“It’s the waiting,” said Fisher. “Time always drags when you’re waiting for something to happen.”
“It still seems too long,” said Katrina stubbornly. “I’m sure Jamie didn’t intend for us to be left alone this long. Something’s happened, I’m sure of it. I think someone ought to go after them and make sure everything’s all right.”
“Don’t look at me,” said Arthur. “I may be drunk, but I’m not crazy.”
“Damn right,” said Fisher. “No one is to go off on their own. It isn’t safe.”
“Who the hell do you think you are, giving everyone orders?” said Katrina angrily. “Hold your tongue, and remember your place. David, if Arthur hasn’t the courage to go, I’m sure you’ll ...”
“Not this time, Katrina,” said David firmly. “For once, I find myself in agreement with Arthur. If the freak is roaming about out there, a man on his own would make a perfect target. And no, you can’t send one of the servants, either.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Greaves. Brennan grinned.
Katrina slumped back in her chair and pouted. “So; we just sit here and wait for them to come back, do we? What if they never come back?”
“They’ll be back,” said Fisher.
Holly looked at her. “How can we be so sure?”
Fisher smiled. “I have faith in my brother. We’ve been through a lot together.”
“Yes,” said Katrina darkly. “I’ll just bet you have.”
Fisher looked at her with a slightly raised eyebrow, and Katrina decided to go back to pouting.
The trip down through the Tower seemed to take forever. The stairs fell away endlessly before them, curling round and round the inner wall. Hawk’s thighs ached from the strain, and his back ached from the tension of constantly waiting for an attack. They were at their most vulnerable on the stairs, and the freak must know it. He’d never get a better chance at them. But landing corners came and went without an ambush, and doors passed unopened. Hawk’s scowl deepened. He almost wished the freak would attack and get it over with. But they reached the ground floor without incident, and Jamie led the way back to the drawing room.
Hawk brought up the rear, sword at the ready, his gaze still darting from shadow to shadow. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t left the sledgehammer up on the third floor. Alistair and Marc moved close together, also with swords at the ready, almost treading on Jamie’s heels. Hawk didn’t blame them. It was always when you were nearly back to safety that your adrenalin really began to pump. It was only then, when you stopped thinking about your mission and started thinking about being able to relax and take it easy again that you realized how much you had to lose if something were to go wrong at the last moment. He hung back a little, giving himself room to move, and swept the surrounding corridor with a steady, professional gaze. It wasn’t likely the freak would make a move now, after turning down so many other, better opportunities, but Hawk wasn’t about to drop his guard just because safety was so near at hand.
Jamie reached the drawing room door, banged on it with his fist, and called out his name. Marc and Alistair moved in close behind him, staring almost hungrily at the door as they listened to the barricade being dismantled. Hawk stood with his back to the door, watching the corridor. He looked left and right at random, careful not to give any attacker a pattern he could anticipate and elude. There was a movement to his right, and he looked sharply round to find Alistair beside him, looking slightly sheepish.
“Must be getting old,” said Alistair gruffly. “Forgetting to watch my back, just because I’m nearly home. You’d make a good soldier, lad. You’ve got the right instincts. You sure you’ve never had any training?”
Hawk cast about for a convincing answer, but was saved by the sound of the drawing room door opening. Jamie hurried in, followed by Marc and Alistair. Hawk took one last look round the empty corridor, then backed unhurriedly into the drawing room. He kicked the door shut and pushed a heavy piece of furniture up against it. And then, finally, he put away his sword and allowed himself to relax a little.
Holly and Katrina were taking turns hugging the breath out of Jamie, while David and Lord Arthur clapped Marc and Alistair on the shoulder and pumped them for details about what they’d found out. Greaves and Robbie Brennan nodded politely to Hawk as he put down his lamp, congratulated him on his safe return, and set about rebuilding the barricade. Fisher came over to Hawk and offered him a brandy, which he accepted gratefully.
“Any sign of the freak?” she asked quietly.
“We found his lair, but he was long gone. Jamie’s got some documents that should fill us in on what the freak actually is. Apart from that, it was pretty much a wasted journey. One bit of bad news: There’s a good chance the freak is a magic-user. We ran into a pretty good illusion spell up around his lair.”
Fisher pursed her lips thoughtfully. “That’s all we needed. Did you come across anything that might tie in with Fenris?”
“Not a damn thing. I’m beginning to wonder if we might have been sent on a wild-goose chase. I haven’t come across anything to suggest Fenris was ever here.”
“The circle of sorcerers said they tracked the spy right to Tower MacNeil.”
Hawk sniffed. “I wouldn’t trust that lot to cast my horoscope.”
Fisher smiled. “Are you going to tell Commander Dubois that, or shall I?”
At that point. Jamie launched into an excited, only slightly exaggerated account of their journey. Fisher listened skeptically while Hawk enjoyed his brandy. He might not know much about vintages, but he knew enough not to waste a chance at a good brandy. It wasn’t often he could afford the good stuff on a Guard’s wages. Jamie finally wound up his report and spread out the papers he’d found on one of the larger tables so that everyone could take a look at them. With perseverance, and a little discreet elbowing, Hawk and Fisher made sure they got places in front of everyone else.
The pages were faded and cracked, and written in several different hands, running from the time of the freak’s birth to well after his incarceration. One writer was definitely the freak’s father. The others could have been anyone, from members of the Family to some of the MacNeils’ security people. The story that finally emerged from the assembled pages was more than a little unsettling.
The Family could have lived with the physical abnormalities exhibited by the freak at birth. Occasional unfortunates were inevitable when the Quality became as inbred as it had in Haven. It wasn’t until the child grew older that they discovered just how inhuman he really was. The freak didn’t need food or drink; he drained the life force out of anyone and anything that came within arm’s reach of him. At first, no one understood what was happening. When those close to the child felt ill and listless, they just put it down to a bug that was going around. Then someone gave the freak a puppy for his sixth birthday, and the Family watched in horror as he drained the life right out of it. The freak laughed delightedly and clapped his hands again and again, glowing with health and vitality, while the puppy lay shrivelled and still on the carpet.
After that, the freak was kept in isolation. Poultry and small animals were provided to satisfy his “unnatural appetites,” but no one save his mother and father ever saw him again. And they were always careful to visit him only after he’d just been fed. The father spent years searching for a cure, almost bankrupting the Family in the process. And then the mother went to visit her son one day, and never came back. By the time the household realized she was missing, it was far too late. His father found him squatting beside her body, singing in her voice. The MacNeil almost fainted with shock when the monstrous child addressed him in his dead wife’s voice. It seemed he didn’t just suck the life out of people; he took their memories as well. The freak actually thought he was his own mother. For a time ...
The MacNeil finally did what his Family had been begging him to do for years. He had a secret room constructed on the third floor, and walled up the freak inside it. Since the boy was only ten years old, the MacNeil gave him poison to drink first. It didn’t work. The freak lived on, draining the strength out of anyone who passed by his room. The MacNeil was at his wits’ end. Since he’d already told everyone the freak was dead, and established his second son as heir, he didn’t dare go outside the Family for help. So he did the only thing he could. He evacuated the Tower, and left it empty long enough to weaken the freak. He hoped the freak would die, but it didn’t. He could hear it screaming. Eventually, he went back inside and made a small opening in the wall. And fed his son a rat. He slowly taught the freak to drain only food that was offered, and not the person who fed him. It took a long time, but the MacNeil was patient. And when the freak had finally learned, he let his Family back into Tower MacNeil.
They couldn’t leave the Tower permanently. People were already asking questions. And they couldn’t kill the freak. His magic had grown as he got older, tapping into people’s minds until they were afraid to antagonize him. As long as he was fed regularly he remained quiet, and the Family learned to live with it.
Years passed. One by one, everyone who knew about the freak died, until it became a Family Secret, handed down from father to eldest son. Feed the freak what he wanted, and he would remain quiet. And so it went, down the many years. The freak lived on, in his cell. Until finally Duncan MacNeil grew careless, and never got around to telling his new eldest son. He died in battle, and the supply of living food stopped. And the freak woke up hungry.
“The rest of it seems fairly obvious,” said Hawk. “He drained the servants to begin with, as they passed unknowing by the hidden room. Remember the colds they kept getting? Then he broke out, and drained all the life out of someone.”
“The dead man in the chimney,” said Jamie. “But why did he burn the victim’s face?”
“I think I know,” said Hawk. “But you’re not going to like it. Remember, when he drained his mother, he acquired her voice and memories. Even thought he was her, for a time. I think he took one of your guests, Jamie, destroyed the victim’s face so it couldn’t be recognized, and then took his place. Only the memories were so strong, after so many years’ abstinence, the freak forgot who he was and thought he was the person he’d killed. That’s why we haven’t been attacked; because one of us is the freak, and doesn’t know it.”
For a long moment they just stood there and looked at him.
“That’s ridiculous!” said David. “How could he not know what he is?”
Hawk shrugged. “All those years alone must have driven him crazy. Maybe his own personality had become so fragile ...”
“Wait a minute,” said Alistair. “What about the illusion on the cell wall? The freak kept that up for a while, and then dropped it when he realized it wasn’t needed anymore. How could the freak do that if he doesn’t remember who he is?”
“Maybe he remembers sometimes, when he has to, to protect himself,” said Hawk. “How should I know? I’m not an expert on freaks or madness!”
“You’re accusing one of us of being the freak?” said Katrina shrilly. “That’s crazy! Jamie, tell him it’s crazy!”
“Be quiet, Auntie,” said Jamie. She looked at him reproachfully, but his face was stem and uncompromising. At that moment he looked every inch the MacNeil, head of the Family, and Katrina subsided, limiting herself to a couple of bad-tempered sniffs. Jamie looked hard at Hawk. “If one of us is a murderer, and truly doesn’t know it, how can we tell who it is?”
“Perhaps there’s something in the documents,” said David. “Something we missed.”
“No,” said Alistair flatly. “Young Richard has summed up the papers’ contents very thoroughly. He didn’t miss a thing.”
“We’ve got to do something,” said Katrina stubbornly. “That ... creature could be leeching the life out of us even as we speak.”
“Has anybody felt ill recently?” said Marc. “Does anyone feel tired or listless?”
They all looked at each other, but nobody said anything. Hawk frowned as he tried to judge how he felt. After the hectic events of the past night and early morning he’d have been surprised if he hadn’t felt a little frayed around the edges, but he couldn’t say he felt unusually tired. He cocked an eyebrow at Fisher, and she shook her head slightly.