Mike decided the puppeteer was a clever actor.
After entering Ian's workshop, Lily had removed his shirt and washed his wounds with water from a bottle. She had then cut a sheet into strips and used them as a makeshift bandage tied around his chest. The dog-man stayed outside.
While she worked, Lily explained everything that had happened to her from the time she'd left Auguste's study with Ian the evening before. Through everything, the puppeteer reacted with the appropriate level of shock and horror as though all of this were news to him, and Lily had shown no signs of suspicion—only sympathy and concern for his wellbeing.
Mike was growing increasingly distressed and frustrated—on the verge of losing his mind from not being able to express himself. If only he could communicate with Lily somehow and warn her of the danger she was in. She was so close—so close that he could kiss her lips—yet she may as well have been all the way across the ocean. And with the puppeteer being such a good actor, how was she ever to notice that something was amiss?
The puppeteer would have no trouble baiting her.
He could only hope that Ian would know something was wrong, and might even be able to save him.
If only he were here now.
"Did the others tell you about Ian's letter instructing them to pack up and leave?" Lily asked, moving away from him and sitting down on a stack of tomes.
"His letter?"
Mike was instantly hopeful. The puppeteer seemed confused. Maybe he would slip up after all.
"Yes, he left them a letter saying to vacate the mansion immediately. That's why he went back to the mansion this morning—because he suspected Hannah hadn't left, and no one could find you either."
Mike was horrified. This would play perfectly into the cloaked man's plan.
"Oh, the letter," the puppeteer said, posturing as though his mind had simply gone blank in the excitement of the morning's events. "Of course they told me about it. And you can imagine how devastated Hannah was. I spent a considerable amount of time consoling her." An appropriate pause for effect. "After she calmed down, I told her I'd help her pack," he continued. "But when we reached the foot of the stairs leading to our rooms, we saw a hooded man dressed in ancient leather standing on the landing, looking down at us. He had a sword in his hand."
Lily's face visibly paled. "How did you get away?" she asked in a choked voice.
"We ran like crazy to the back door and didn't look back, but Hannah fell on the greensward and hurt her ankle real bad."
"Is she . . . all right?" Lily's sea-green eyes were wide and limpid, full of fear.
"I don't know," the puppeteer said in a regrettable tone as though he cared very deeply about Hannah's welfare. "I didn't have car keys on me," he explained, "so I carried her into the forest and covered her with evergreen boughs and leaves—told her to lay very still while I went for help. As far as I could tell, the maniac hadn't followed us outside." He paused as though to increase the suspense; Lily's attention was rapt.
"I considered running down the road to seek out a neighbor, but I didn't want to risk passing the mansion—in case the maniac had come out the front or side doors. . . . In the end, we opted to spend the night in the forest and just wait it out."
"And that's when you came looking for Ian—this morning."
"Yes." A nod. And perhaps for effect—a painful cringe. He looked down at his chest and her eyes followed his.
She grimaced and gave him a look of compassion.
Somehow Mike knew this was the response the puppeteer was hoping for. He was winning her over through her nurturing spirit; using it as an Achilles heel.
"Hannah's still hidden in the forest," he heard himself say, "but she's caught a chill and is delirious. I need to get back to her and make sure she's still safe—especially with those-those beasts out there." He put on a frightened look and cast a furtive glance at the door.
"I'll inform Varkis," she said reassuringly, "and he'll instruct the others to leave Hannah alone if they find her."
"I can't stay here any longer," his voice said. He stood with a groan and leaned forward to take her little hand in his, pulling her to her feet. "I must check on Hannah and go find Ian. He's wasting his time searching for us in the mansion, and in the meantime, we're all in danger." They went to the door. "I'll tell Varkis where to find her," he said. "If you trust him, I trust him."
"I'm coming with you to find Ian," she said, hands on her hips and lips set in a firm line. "I feel like a sitting duck and I can't stand it any longer."
No! Mike screamed inwardly, soundlessly. No! It's all lies—lies. Don't listen to this psycho!
Mike's hands reached out and took Lily by the shoulders, rubbing them with his thumbs in a gesture of affection. "You must stay here, where it's safe," his voice said to her in a soothing, caring tone. "I don't want that maniac to have any chance at getting his hands on you. That canine creature out there can protect you far better than I can."
She shook her head. "No, Mike. I don't want your death on my conscience. I'm coming with you whether you like it or not."
He let go of her shoulders and moved closer, searching her eyes. "Is there nothing I can say to convince you to stay here?"
He's playing you—Mike shouted in vain. He's making you think it's your own idea. It's exactly what he wants you to do!
She stepped back and folded her arms over her chest. "I'm coming," she said, "but I'm bringing Varkis with us for protection."
"Out of the question." He spoke too sharply and her eyes registered confusion. "Hannah hasn't seen any of the creatures," he explained in a softer tone, redeeming himself. "In her current state, a fright like that could put her over the edge. What if she has a heart attack?"
Her eyes were downcast. She sighed. "You're right, of course." She met his eyes again. "Varkis will never allow me to leave without him, but I have an idea." She spoke in a whisper. "You act like you've gone mad with fear and run down the path back to the mansion. They'll leave you be. I'll catch up with you after I figure out a way to get past Varkis."
He frowned. "There's too much that could go wrong."
"Do you want to save Hannah or not?"
Mike's hand reached for the door handle and he took a deep breath. "Don't keep me waiting too long, okay?" He kissed her forehead. "Here goes nothing . . . "
Lily followed Mike out of the tree with a gesture of helplessness as his Oscar-winning performance unfolded.
He ran forward, picked up a stick and waved it at Varkis, who was surveying the scene with aloof superiority and a vague look of amusement in his amber eyes.
"I want out of here," he said, eyes wild as he waved the stick. "You're all a bunch of freaks . . . monsters . . . vermin. Look what you've done to me—" He pointed to his chest with a tremulous hand. "I'm leaving this mansion for good and don't any of you try to stop me."
Lily put out her hands. "Mike—please. Calm down." She met eyes with Varkis and frowned apologetically before turning back to Mike. "I told you—no one is going to hurt you again. You're safe now."
"Lies! They ate Ian, didn't they?"
The dog-man's lips curled back over his teeth but he said nothing.
"I told you," Lily said in a tender voice, "Ian's at the mansion searching for you and Hannah."
His eyes widened with feigned panic. "Shut up—you're in on it. I bet you helped cook him up—"
"You're losing it, Mike. You're talking crazy." She approached him with tentative steps, hands raised in surrender.
"Stay away from me—" he screeched, throwing the stick at her and racing off down the trail toward the mansion, kicking up dirt and leaves in his frenzied wake.
Varkis let out a low growl. "Want me to go break his neck?" he said.
"Of course not." She gave Varkis an exasperated look. "He's just terrified, and rightly so. Didn't you see the wound on his chest? He needs stitches."
"I'll send someone to follow him," he said, peering down the trail. "He might be a foolish coward, but Ian will expect us to keep him safe. Great job we've done so far, I might add." A wink.
Lily looked upwards. The sky was overcast and the air damp with the anticipation of rain. She hugged her waist, considering how to make her escape from Varkis.
The dog-man whistled through his furry fingers and a crunching sounded nearby. Soon a gargoyle entered the clearing. Varkis gave instructions for the creature to pursue Mike from a distance and to help him out should danger befall him.
After the gargoyle had taken off, Varkis turned to look down on Lily. "Let's just hope the fool can find his way off the property without running into the assassin."
She nodded. "Varkis, um, I hope you don't mind, but . . . I really need to use the washroom." She avoided eye contact and cleared her throat, as though embarrassed.
"No problem," he said. "You pick a spot in the forest and I'll turn my back."
"I don't want company. Sorry."
"Fine," he said. "But don't let me out of your line of sight. You have two minutes and then I'm coming after you. If you hear so much as the wind rustling in the leaves, you give me a shout."
She agreed and slipped into the forest to the right of the trail. As soon as she was masked by the foliage, she took off at a run. Varkis would hear her do so; there was no time to lose. When she reached the greensward, Mike stepped out from behind the maiden statue and motioned for her to hurry. She closed the space between them at full speed and Mike took her hand in his, pulling her after him toward the mansion.
Mike despaired as the puppeteer led Lily closer and closer toward the cloaked man who was waiting for them behind a tree next to the wrought-iron gates at the front entrance to the estate; as had been previously planned.
Initially, Mike had felt abject loathing toward the puppeteer, struggling and fighting mentally against his captor in a futile attempt to force him out. But his rage had had no effect on the puppeteer—if anything, it seemed to spur him on, like fueling a fire. Now he was just too tired to kindle the loathing any longer; could feel only an overwhelming agony which stripped him of every last ounce of strength.
If any harm came to Lily through his own hands then it didn't matter if he should ever be set free. He wouldn't want to live anymore. If only he could disassociate somehow and not have to watch the wretchedness unfold; but he had no control over his eyelids and was forced to observe everything.
"I hope Hannah's all right," Lily said breathlessly as she hurried to keep up step with him. "You're so kind to have stayed behind to look for help—instead of abandoning her."
Stop saying nice things to me! If you only knew . . .
"You've comforted me so many times since I've arrived here," she said as they skidded around the side of the estate, ducking beneath the dangling bronze pendant leaves of the willows. "I'm so glad I got to see you once more."
It was more than he could bear; especially when the puppeteer smiled down at her and she met his eyes with a girl-like trust. Lily was like an angel to him—beautiful and radiant and innocent. He would never willingly hurt her.
A fierce, aching love for her welled up in his heart and he would've wept if he could.
That's when it happened.
He felt his heart thud in his chest: his first physical sensation since the puppeteer had taken over.
Mike flinched and nearly lost his footing. He slowed to a stop and let go of Lily's hand.
"What is it?" she asked, glancing behind and before them with a look of fear. "Did you hear something?" Feathery willow leaves surrounded them, shielding them from the view of any of the lancet windows; and obscuring their profiles from the road as well. Lily's face was cast in shadow and another wave of love for her surged in his heart—painfully.
The puppeteer lifted a shaky hand to his throat, heartbeat pounding in his chest like a jackhammer now. Why could he feel it now?
Was the puppeteer so corrupt that an altruistic emotion might act as a poison to him?
Summoning up all the love he could muster, Mike deliberately brought to mind everyone he had ever cared for; his family, his sister, his first car, and Lily—oh, wonderful Lily.
Mike fell to his knees and let out a choked gasp as pain filled his body.
Lily dropped to his side, hand on his shoulder. "Mike, what's wrong? Is it your chest?"
A cold breeze moved over them and goosebumps prickled his skin.
He could actually feel it.
"Mike? Talk to me—"
Her sweet, musical voice was soothing—like a warming balm. The puppeteer refused to look at her now. Mike filled his thoughts with heaven and eternal peace; anything he could think of to torment his captor.
His body spasmed and a slight cry slipped from his lips.
Mike flooded his mind with every happy memory he could recall, and a tingling filled his hands and feet; like pins and needles. He continued to focus his thoughts and the tingling moved up through his legs and arms, warming them. More gasps escaped his lips and he caught a glance at Lily, who was recoiling in fear.
Somehow, he had to warn her—before the cloaked man accosted them.