She couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the scratching in her throat from the smoke of the fire, or the way the back of her head still pulsed every time she closed her eyes. Maybe it was the memory—not even a day old—of Sisk’s ring with that damned fleur-de-lys, and how it flashed, relentlessly, to that image of Rían, bloody and cold in the shed.
Maybe it was all of those things. Or the nagging feeling that, very soon, they’d seem like the better moments in her life.
She sat up, just listening to the sound of the house withstanding the frigid air outside. A creak here, a shifting there. Wind pushing at the stone to no effect, but not quite silent, either.
Béatrice was asleep on the bed next to hers, so far gone her mouth was hanging open and she was snoring happily. She’d warned Maggie, before they’d blown out the candle, that she’d be watching. All night. So stay put. Evidently not.
But watching her sleep so peacefully, Maggie was filled with a bigger kind of dread. Not even for Béatrice herself, but for what Émile’s death would do to her. They were in love, it was clear, and she knew all too well how much it hurt when that love was torn apart by ruthless men for unknowable reasons.
But if they came with her to Perth, the reason wouldn’t be unknowable at all. It would be her. She couldn’t bear the thought of it.
She slipped out of her bed, stepping lightly on her way to the door. It creaked the tiniest creak as it opened—
—but Béatrice kept snoring, smiling in her sleep.
Maggie let herself into the hall, and closed the door behind her.
Out there, the wind outside was louder, harsher. Down at the end of the hall was a window, looking over the rolling white hills. Not the kind of place to be, or to go, or to want to go…but she couldn’t avoid it any longer.
She crept down the stairs, coming out just near the foyer. The fire in the hearth was out, though dark red embers glowed every time a pulse of wind came in through the chimney. It was too dark to see much else, so she waited until the embers glowed and used that moment to sneak into the parlour, then to the far side, then to pick her coat out of the pile they’d made.
She wrapped it around her, shivering as the cold material chilled her in ways the air hadn’t. She buttoned it up, flipped the collar to protect her ears, and turned, and—
“You’ll want this,” said Ada, holding out a thick purple cloak.
Maggie was so shocked by her appearance, she jerked back and stifled a squeak. Ada insisted, offering the cloak again.
“It’s very cold out there. The more layers, the better.” She smiled and turned down Maggie’s collar. “And the less you look like you right now, the better.”
Maggie took the cloak, cautiously, like it might be a trap. She slung it around her shoulders, let Ada pin it closed. It hung down around her like a massive grape cone. But it was warm inside. It made all the difference.
“Thank you,” she said.
Ada adjusted the shoulders on the cloak a little. “May I ask where you’re headed?”
Maggie stared straight at her, full of confidence and fear in equal parts. “Perth.”
“Hmm,” nodded Ada. “As I suspected.” She turned to go, until Maggie said:
“I can’t…” she tried to put her terror into words. “I can’t let them risk their lives for me. They’ve already done too much. Lost too much.”
“As have you.”
“Aye,” said Maggie. “But I did that to myself. They’re just caught up in the—”
“You did what to yourself?” asked Ada, stepping forward.
“I—”
“Who killed your husband? Was it you?”
“N-no, I—”
“Peter Aylen killed your husband. Peter Aylen did this to you. To all of you. If you forget that, then there’s no reason to go to Perth at all anymore, is there?”
Maggie’s eyes filled with tears. “I should have stopped him.”
Ada held Maggie’s arms, frowned straight into her soul. “What happened was not in your control. What happens next is.”
Maggie sniffled, nodded, wiped her eyes. “Keep them safe?” she asked. “Keep them here ‘til the danger’s passed?”
Ada smiled, patted her cheek. “Of course. I could use the company.”
Maggie took a bracing breath, and headed for the door. But before she got there, Ada called out—quiet, but insistent: “Mrs Kelly?”
She turned, saw Ada mulling some complex calculations in the back of her mind.
“They’ve closed the bridges east, and Sapper’s, too. Billings and his men won’t be fooled by a cloak. If you even get that far.” She sighed, nodded to herself. “South of Corkstown is a little house with a stable. Ask for Vincent, tell him Ada sent you, and you would like to buy a horse.”
“But I don’t—”
“It’s covered,” said Ada. “Perth’s too far on foot, and if you get lost…” She frowned again, sighed even louder. “You’d like to buy a horse and a guide,” she said. “He’ll get you there in one piece. I swear it.”
Maggie couldn’t think of what to say except: “Thank you.”
“Thank me upon your return,” said Ada. “We’ll drink a toast to Aylen’s arrest.” Her face darkened, though, and she added: “But for tonight, Mrs Kelly, tread softly. There are monsters on the prowl.”
The man hit the ground and slid on the ice, colliding with the house on the other side of the street. He scrambled to protect himself from what was coming next, cowering and trembling as Liam closed the gap, tight fists at his sides, looking nothing short of demonic in his fervour.
“Where is she?” he growled. “Where?”
The man stammered something in French, which only made Liam angrier. He started forward, and the man shrieked, pleading for a pause in the only English he knew: “No! Sorry! No! No!”
“No?” Liam said, grabbing him by the collar and jerking him upward. “No?”
He wound back to punch, but Adam caught his arm, held him back.
“He doesn’t understand you,” he said, under his breath.
“He’ll understand this—” Liam said, trying to wrench free…but with his broken leg, he couldn’t quite make it.
Adam wouldn’t let go. “No he won’t,” said Adam, gently. “And neither will they…” He glanced around them, at the other Canadiens nearby, watching with terrified expressions. He was deep in their territory, but there were enough Irishmen about that crossing him might prove dangerous. They backed into their houses, or shadows, as Liam made eye contact.
He looked back to his captive, the expression of utter terror on his face.
Adam put his hand on Liam’s, pushed down. “We’ll find her, Kelly. But we’ve gotta do it smart.”
Liam let his grip loosen, and the man fell to the ground, then scurried back against the wall again, shivering from the fear and cold in equal parts.
Adam guided Liam back, into the middle of the street, as an icy wind whipped a spiral of snow and ice up and around. Adam conferred quietly, careful of all the eyes and ears around. “It’s past midnight,” he said. “We’ve been at this for hours.”
“She’s still out there,” Liam said. “She’s—”
“Probably sleeping,” said Adam. “Even kidnapped, she’s gotta be sleeping. You should be, too.”
“Not until she’s safe,” said Liam, breaking free and hobbling down the street, hunting for someone else who’d look at him funny. Adam swore under his breath and hurried to keep pace.
“Kelly, if nothing else, you need that leg fixed up right. You keep on like this, you’re gonna be walkin’ with a limp the rest of your life.”
“If a limp means Maggie’s safe, that’s a trade I’ll gladly make.”
“It’s not either-or,” said Adam. “Please. Let’s find a doctor and—”
“There!” said Liam, rushing onward again. Up ahead, at the corner, a man in a black coat was running through the snow, checking over his shoulder every few seconds like wolves were close behind. He was so focused on where he’d been, he didn’t notice Liam coming until it was too late.
Liam intercepted him, slamming him into a window—shattering it—and then yanking him back out and tossing him to the ground.
“Where you off to?” he shouted, and the man flipped over, trying to crawl away. “Eh? Where you going?” Liam yelled.
Adam had stopped short, eyes wide. He reached out to nudge Liam, who was still entirely focused on his prey.
“What’s the hurry, friend?” Liam said. “Something amiss?”
“Kelly…” said Adam, but Liam wasn’t listening.
“Come on,” Liam taunted. “Let’s hear it. What’s got you running so?”
“That’d be me,” said a voice from behind, and Liam turned to see Sisk standing there, broomstick in his hand—and a fine mist of blood across his face. “Mr Kelly,” he said, tipping his hat. “Awfully alive, you are.”
Liam pointed back at the man, then out at the streets, and then at Adam, like he was trying to craft a story to make everything make sense, and wasn’t quite sure how.
“Maggie is…she’s…he…”
“Aye,” said Sisk, peering around Liam at the man on the ground, who started crawling for cover even faster. “But you ain’t helpin’ with a leg like that.”
Liam stood taller. “Try and stop me.”
Sisk swung the broomstick around and whacked Liam’s ankle just so, and he toppled over, landing with a crash. Sisk returned the stick to his shoulder, staring off into the nighttime sky like nothing had happened at all. “Stopped,” he said.
Liam cradled his leg, trying not to let his pain show, and doing a horrible job of it. “Please, Mr Sisk,” he said. “She’s all I have left. I need to—”
“What you need,” said Sisk, sneering down at him. “Is to let the men handle things.” He glanced at Adam. “Both of you.”
Adam shrunk a little under the glare. “We were just going home to—”
“No we weren’t!” said Liam, struggling back to his feet. “We aren’t stopping until Maggie is safe.” He stood taller, staring straight into Sisk’s cruel eyes. “You can keep knocking me down all night, Mr Sisk, and it won’t change a thing. I’ll never stop.”
Sisk’s rotted grin spread across his blood-spattered face as he looked Liam up and down. “Is that a challenge?”
“No, sir,” said Liam. “It’s a fact.”
Sisk licked the blood off his lips, and smiled. “Hold him down.”
Liam, for all his bluster, hadn’t really expected this. He flinched, ready for whatever came next, as Sisk looked past him to Adam, and said: “He’s gettin’ away, ye fool! Hold ‘im down!”
Liam let himself check, and sure enough, Sisk was talking about the man he’d tackled, who was trying to make his way to a nearby alley, scrambling faster as he heard Adam racing after him. “Non!” he screamed, as Adam pushed a boot into his back, pinning him to the ground.
Sisk slipped the broomstick off his shoulder, spinning it around and around as he leaned in closer, right near Liam’s throat, and hissed: “I’ll deal with you next. Stay put.”
And with that, he pushed past and closed in on his target. Liam didn’t look back, but he heard the whoosh of the stick spinning in a wide arc, and then a sharp intake of breath, and a horrible cracking sound, and the man crying out in pain.
Unable to leave, Liam reached down to adjust the brace on his leg—it wouldn’t do a thing to help him, but it was something to pass the time until Sisk returned. He could feel his bones shifting as he moved it, and realized Adam had been right…if he didn’t get this tended to properly, he was going to be walking with a limp for the rest of his life. The wood pieces were pressing against his muscles strangely, but moving them was so painful, he saw spots at the slightest pressure.
But then, a little ways away, he heard a faint: “Tsk tsk tsk…”
At the corner of the next house he saw a man peering out from the darkness, a wry grin on his face. Roland. McClintock’s man.
Liam checked Sisk; he was kneeling down over the Frenchman, entirely focused on what he was doing as Adam watched on in horror. Liam twisted the wooden brace into position, not making a sound, and stumbled over to meet his former nemesis.
Roland’s grin got wider the closer Liam got. “So is nae a coincidence, then,” he said with a chuckle. “Kelly, Kelly, Kelly. She your sister? Wife?”
Liam grabbed Roland’s coat collar and jerked him forward. “If you touch her—”
Roland grabbed Liam’s hand and used it to slam him into the wall of the house. “You’ll what, exactly?”
Liam pushed back, but with his leg in the state it was in, he didn’t make much progress. “She did nothing wrong,” he said. “She doesn’t deserve this. Any of this.”
“Aye, they never do, ‘til they do. But don’t y’worry, Kelly. Now I know she’s special to ye, I’ll be sure to take good care of her.” He leaned closer and smiled. “So very good.”
Liam’s fury boiled over and he shoved Roland back with an angry roar—
—and got a vicious punch to the gut in return. He toppled over, shoulder cracking when he hit the ground, and gasped for breath as the McClintock goon straightened his coat.
“Must say, Kelly, I’ve missed our little chats since you went away. Ye always knew the quickest way t’make a man feel himself again.” He kicked Liam in the stomach. “Now where d’ye reckon the wee lass has gone off to, eh?”
He crouched down, voice a menacing purr. “Word be she nae a prisoner at all. Word be she took the Frenchman as her lover, ten breaths past her husband’s demise. Now how’d ye feel about that, I wonder? Hmm? How’d you feel knowing she was out and about in the arms o’ another man while ye—”
“Hey!” shouted Adam, rounding the corner and shoving Roland off his feet. “Get back!”
Roland got back up, dusting off his hands and getting ready to go straight back at Adam without mercy. Adam stood his ground, said: “Mr Sisk won’t take kindly to this.”
The name on its own changed Roland’s expression. His fists lowered a little, and he took a step back. “Sisk, eh?”
“He’ll be right here,” Adam said, more to Liam than anyone. “Just hold on.”
The man glanced out at the street, then back at Liam and Adam. He buttoned his coat back up, hurriedly. “Tha’s enough reminiscin’ for one night,” he said. “See you again soon, Kelly.” And then he backed into the darkness, and disappeared.
Adam helped Liam get back to a sitting position. “Jesus, man, you’ve got to ease up on the beatings a little. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.”
Liam checked the street, wary. “Won’t be much longer, once Sisk returns.”
“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout that,” said Adam, hoisting Liam back to his feet. “He’s forgotten all about you. The Canadien kicked ‘im, and that just…well, can’t say it changed the outcome, but it’s gonna change the journey for sure.”
Liam bit back a yelp as he accidentally put weight on his broken leg. “Well then let’s make the most of it,” he said, “and find Maggie first.”
Adam was not impressed with that idea. “Your leg, Kelly. We can tear apart Lowertown all night, but she’s—”
“Exactly,” said Liam. “I don’t think she’s in Lowertown at all. Someone would have found her by now.”
“Then what—”
“She’s a fighter,” said Liam, looking out across the street, and into the distance. “If she got free, she’d know to run. And hide. Someplace safe. Someplace we wouldn’t think to look, if we thought she was a prisoner.”
Adam frowned. “Wait, you mean she’s—”
“In Corkstown,” said Liam. “Waiting to be rescued.”