The Wrong Girl

Chapter 14

"He's our footman."

Tate tipped his head back and laughed. "Capital! So Langley's sending the servants to do his work for him?"

"Aren't you?" I said, pointing my chin at the brute behind Tommy.

"That's Ham, short for Hamley. August isn't the only one who can recruit oversized idiots to work for him."

"Who're you calling an idiot?" Tommy said, pulling on one of the chains.

"I was referring to Bollard."

Whatever Bollard was, he was not stupid. Not like Ham. Both may have perfected that vacant stare, but Bollard's couldn't always hide the shrewdness behind his eyes. I'd wager there were no thoughts of any kind in Ham's mind. If the label of idiot bothered him, he didn't show it.

"Let Tommy go," I said. "This is nothing to do with him."

"He shouldn't have been in here," Tate said.

"Why?" Sylvia asked. "It's not like there's anything worth seeing in this burnt wreck."

"Let him go!" I shouted.

Tate moved further into the fuzzy circle of light near Tommy. "Are you getting angry, Miss Smith?" He picked up the lamp and held it high in our direction. "Yes, I believe you are. Very good. I'd like to see what happens. It's been a long time since I've observed the phenomena on another."

I swallowed, and some of my anger disappeared. It wasn't the reaction I wanted. Despite his wish to study me, spitting fire from my fingertips would have come in quite handy at that moment. "Jack's not here, is he?" I said in the hope the answer would rile me again.

"No," said Tommy. "I had a good look around before this beast clobbered me." He pointed at Ham and the chain clanked against the bench.

"Jack's not here," Tate said. "I haven't seen him. What does that mean, do you suppose? Has he left? Is he lost?"

"I doubt it," Sylvia said.

I pinched her again and she flinched.

"Pity. I would have liked to see him after all this time. He was a baby when I last saw him."

He'd known Jack as a baby? Was that because Jack really was Langley's nephew and as his partner, Tate had seen him? Or was there another reason? Something to do with the fire?

Tate returned the lamp to the hook hanging from the ceiling near Tommy and stepped back into the shadows. There was only enough light to outline his silhouette. "He was a good baby on the whole, but when he threw a tantrum, he was far more frightening than any child had a right to be."

I could only imagine. "Were we born with it?" I asked.

"Hannah, now is not the time to question him about yourself," Sylvia whispered. "We must release Tommy and find Jack. Have you got a plan?"

"Yes," I lied. "I'm instigating it as we speak."

I felt her relax a little against me, which I decided was indeed part of my plan. A relaxed Sylvia could think clearer and act faster if necessary.

"Release Tommy!" I ordered Tate.

He began to move toward us through the darkness, his silhouette dimly visible until his pale, glistening face emerged from the darkness like a ghost. Sylvia gave a little squeal, and Tate growled, baring his ugly teeth. He pushed her away. It wasn't a hard shove, but she fell to the floor.

"Sylvia!" I reached for her, but Tate grabbed my arm and pulled me into his side. His breath reeked worse than rancid meat, and heat swamped me. It was like opening an oven door and being blasted by hot air. There were no sparks or flames, but it was almost too hot to bear.