"Simon?" Her voice cracked.
"He's alright," Mary said.
Constance blinked her eyes open with difficulty. She was in an unfamiliar room filled with old furnishings. It felt like she'd stepped into an authorial legend. Stone walls, metal sconces, faded tapestries on the walls. She sat up and tried to get out of bed, but fell back, her legs weak.
"Take me to him," she demanded, her head spinning.
"He's in his own room, asleep. He's perfectly fine."
"I need to see him."
"I swear on my life." She handed Constance a glass of water.
She drank it. Her mouth felt like it had gravel in it, but what she really wanted to do was throw it at her cousin's head.
"Simon was never in any real danger," Mary said breezily. "William would never have allowed him to be hurt."
Heat rose in Constance's belly. She set the empty glass aside with as much force as she could muster, which wasn't much.
"You believe that?" She said incredulously.
"Of course," Mary said earnestly.
"What other lies has he told you?"
"I know how it looks and how it must feel but—"
"You know how it feels?" Her words were sharp. "You've had your dearest friend chain you to a bed and leave you to die?"
Mary blanched.
"You've had werewolves break into your house and take you against your will. You've watched as they threw your brother into a pit, helpless to do anything to save him?"
"No, of course not," Mary said, studying her hands. "But I know Simon was safe. You saw Edward. He had a sword and was ready at a moment to jump in and rescue our cousin."
Constance saw the vampire's head rolling across the floor of the pit, black blood pooling under his twitching body. She stuck her head over the side of the bed and retched.
She'd made that poor man fall asleep and then Edward had killed him. Her stomach heaved again, but there was nothing left. It had been days since she'd eaten anything of value.
"There now," Mary said, soothingly pulling a rope over the bed, a bell sounding far away. "I was going to have a bath drawn for you, anyway."
Constance wiped her chin, her hands shaking.
"I'd like to see my brother," Constance said again.
"Let's get you cleaned up first." She tried to take Constance's hand.
"Don't touch me," she hissed, shaking her off.
Mary looked hurt.
"It's important that you know we wouldn't have allowed anything to harm our cousin. We needed you properly motivated. But now that it's over, you can know the truth—"
"You don't get to call him cousin. Not after dragging him from his home, where he felt safe. And I don't care if you believe Simon was safe. I know he wasn't. Are you so foolish you believe a man like Baines is capable of any kind of decency?"
Mary's eyes narrowed. "He is a man of purpose," she said, opening the door for the maid. "He is committed to a holy mission. We are committed to a holy mission."
She pointed to Constance's vomit. The maid sighed imperceptibly and then left to get cleaning supplies.
Constance could see in her cousin's eyes that she believed what she was saying. Her love for Constance may have been real, but she'd do whatever Baines told her to. She was a genuine believer.
"Unholy practices don't lead to holy missions," Constance said anyway. It was something her father had said many times. Usually after reading the paper. Her father had come from the colonies, and some of those terrible stories had lived on in their family.
"What would you know about any of it," Mary snapped.
They were quiet as the maid came back in and cleaned, which was a relief. The smell of stomach acid was getting to be a bit much. Mary pulled out clean chemises, stockings and stays. The sight of them sent a rush of anger through her. Were the clothes supposed to make Mary feel better about this? A prisoner in finery was still a prisoner. She missed her faded red cloak. As much as she'd thought it old and plain, it had always felt like a comfort and she'd take it over any of these expensive silks any day.
"When you're done there, draw Miss Allen a bath."
"Yes, miss," the maid said, ducking back out the door.
Constance felt a hundred different cutting remarks on her tongue, but she stayed silent. She needed to find Simon and find a way out. Hugh's estate was in Scotland too. Surely they could find their way there.
Unease whispered over her. Maybe Hugh would feel differently about her once he knew the truth. She bit her lip but lifted her chin. Constance would risk it for Simon. She'd beg him to take them in if it meant getting her brother to safety.
The door swung open again. Baines walked in. She hated that her heart stuttered in fear. She wanted to feel righteous anger, but his presence made her hands shake, her chest tighten.
"They told me she was awake."
Mary smiled at him, but it didn't reach her eyes the way it had at Bunsall.
"You understand Mary, don't you?" His tone was tender. "I have to do what's best for the mission."
"Of course," she whispered. "I know our hearts are of no consequence in the face of what must be done."
"Not of no consequence," he said, his voice soft in a way Constance did not trust. "I very much care about you. This doesn't change that. I hope you will still stand by my side. I'm not sure I can do it without you."
Mary lifted her chin and smiled at him bravely. Something about the exchange set Constance's teeth on edge.
He turned to her. "You were amazing." His smile was almost beatific. "Do you understand what you are?"
Wolfe's bane "I know enough." She felt exposed and small in bed while he smiled at her from above. She thought about standing, but then she wouldn't have the bedding to hide her trembling hands, and it would be awkward to climb up onto shaking legs while he stood there watching her.
"Miss Allen, you are the answer to all our prayers." He motioned to Mary and beyond the rooms. "You will usher in judgment on the monsters corrupting this country."
Her palms began sweating.
"If you're so righteous," she said, trying and failing to firm up her voice, "why did you use werewolves to abduct me and Simon?"
"I had hoped that would make you understand—that you would see them for what they are. A group of men willing to do any kind of violence so long as I paid them. I need you to see what we're up against, what's at stake. I hated doing it. It broke my heart, but I knew it was the only way to win you to our cause."
He had not hated it, had not felt regret pulling a knife on a child. She had seen the satisfaction and excitement on his face.
"What is it you want me to do?" She asked, her head spinning a little.
"You are going to help me turn the monsters on London, which will turn England on the monsters."
Constance's heart hammered her ribs. She looked at Mary. Surely her cousin would see him for what he was, a power hungry megalomaniac, but Mary was gazing at him with such adoration. It would have made a lovely painting of the virgin mother, except this messiah was a monster. She shivered.
"Hugh?" she said, trying to regain control of her beating heart. "You thought if he killed me, what?"
"When people think of the supernatural, they think of people like him. Landowners and gentlemen. I wanted the masses to see past the facade. People would have grown suspicious and fearful, the first domino in a line leading to the right hand of the throne."
And a good man who could stand in your way gone, she thought.
"But when you emerged unscathed," his face lit up, "I knew God had finally given me the weapon I needed."
Mary flinched ever so slightly and Constance realized Mary was the one who should have been born with this cursed birthright. She was a believer who had been passed over.
"Why the prime minister?" Constance whispered. "The man who killed him was afraid. He didn't want to harm anyone. How did you make him?"
"That had already been in play. First, Hugh was supposed to rip to shreds an innocent country girl." He said it so proudly, as if Constance hadn't been the country girl he spoke of. "There's already so much unrest. The poor and the marginalized are tired of being overlooked. You were to be the spark, and then I would strike at the heart of the government. It's no matter, now the prime minister is the spark. I've lit the torch, Constance Anne Allen. You are going to burn it all down. And there is no need to worry about the murderer. I compensated his family very well."
And threatened, she thought. It was how he was controlling her now, threatening the people she loved. "And then what?" She asked, wrapping her arms around herself.
"I emerge with the solution to the blight on this country. She is rotten, and she needs a firm hand. I will help steer her into holy waters."
"I won't help you do this terrible thing," she whispered. "Anyone can be a monster. You've proven that."
His face hardened. "You can not turn your back on your gift. Your mother's betrayal cost her mind, and it will cost you yours, too."
Constance's head spun. "Even if that's true," she said, fisting her hands to keep them from shaking. "I won't help you." She could sacrifice herself, couldn't she? Her stomach knotted. She had to believe she was strong enough to make that sacrifice. She was just one poor nobody. Surely, slowly going crazy was worth protecting all the people in London from her powers.
Baines's eyes filled with fire. He grabbed her arm and hauled her out of bed, the cold floor biting at her toes.
"Once you are my wife, you will obey me."
"You must be the one losing your mind if you think I'll consent to marry you," she said, trying to pull away from him, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her underarm.
"I think you'll find your consent has very little to do with it," he said, leaning in so that his face was only inches from hers. "This is my citadel and the people here are one in mind. They understand the calling."
"I still won't agree to it. I have to agree. That's the law."
"I'm the law here. In Scotland, you need two witnesses to testify that you agreed should the matter ever arise in court. As it turns out, I have two witnesses, family of yours."
"They wouldn't—" her head was feeling more than a little lightheaded.
"What, perjure themselves? I think you'll find that everyone here will do whatever it takes to see this mission through. They already have a dispensation from the Holy Church."
It was as if someone had thrown her back into the freezing March river, only this time there was no one to pull her out. Her chest constricted, the air trapped in her lungs. "I still won't help you," she whispered.
He smiled, all teeth, his breath hot on her face. "You will bear me children, and our daughter will inherit these gifts you so foolishly refuse. I will take her from your breast and make her into a weapon no one can stand against."
A weight threatened to crush Constance's chest. She couldn't breathe.
"You think you can thwart me?" He continued. "All you can do is delay me." He straightened, his grip still a vise on her arm. "But I don't think you'll even be able to do that. Don't forget, you promised your mother you'd keep Simon safe. I told you I needed further assurances; the priest and the witnesses will have your consent, and I will have my weapon."
Constance looked at Mary for help. Her cousin was watching Baines, her brow furrowed.
"Get her cleaned up. She reeks." He let go of her with a shove. "The priest will be here in a few hours. I want her to look like a bride."
He turned on his heel and left. Constance's pulse thundered in her ears. She was still standing, but she couldn't feel her arms or legs.
"This is a good thing," Mary said quietly, placing her hand on Constance's elbow.
"How can you say that?" She said, trying to suck air into her constricted lungs.
"He's a Lord. You'll have a title, respect, wealth."
Constance looked at Mary in revulsion.
"You won't have to worry about providing for your family." Mary continued doggedly.
Constance wanted to scream, tear at her clothes, scratch Mary's face. "Why can't you see he's the monster?" she said instead. "He threatened Simon again, and you think he wouldn't follow through?" She remembered Mary being led from Hugh's room, leaning into Baines, and tried a different track. "He promised you things, didn't he? Told you he loved you? He made you into a believer, and then what?"
"Stop," Mary said, her voice shaking.
"He threw you over as soon as he thought something better came along." Venom dripped from her words. She had to wake Mary up. "And he didn't just throw you over, he didn't actually set you free to find love somewhere else. Instead, he keeps you on his line, to shore up his ego, to worship him. That isn't love, Mary."
"You know nothing, Constance." She said, all the warmth gone from her voice. "Unlike you, I'm willing to sacrifice my selfishness for the greater good."
"You mean you were willing to sacrifice me?"
"Yes, but I love you. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I knew they would remember you as making the worthiest of sacrifices."
"No one asked me if I was willing to be the sacrifice!"
"Constance, I'm sorry, but it was and is for the greater good."
"Is that going to give you peace when he forces me into his bed?"
"I will not talk about this anymore. The maid drew you a bath," Mary said, pushing her toward a copper tub behind the changing screen.
"If he loved you, he wouldn't make you stand beside him while he marries another woman."
Mary said nothing, just started stripping Constance out of her travel weary clothes.
"He wouldn't force you to help get me get ready for a wedding that should be yours," Constance said desperately.
Mary pushed her into the water and stalked away.