The Lord and the Banshee (Read by Candlelight #13) - Gillian St. Kevern Page 0,48

ground. His voice no longer trembled, although he kept a firm hold on Thomas’s arm. “Sometime during our stay at Connaught Castle. Let me consult my field notes.” He pulled his notebook from his jacket pocket, flicking through the pages. “Let’s see—September [10th]. After our first return to Connaught, the impression of a shadow on the corner of my vision.”

“The day after I first started wearing the heart. This cannot be coincidence.”

Pip pursed his lips. “No. It is very likely that the heart gives the fair folk an entry point into this world.”

Cross gripped the pouch, his shoulders sliding forward. He should have foreseen this. “Then the logical thing to do would be to destroy it before they can gain such a foothold in this world that we are unable to remove them.”

“No!” Pip gripped his hand. “The danger to you—no, you must not contemplate such a thing.”

“You were not there to see the damage the fae wrought, the countless lives ruined by their interference.”

“I have heard more than enough from Dawson and Scott—indeed, to say nothing of my acquaintance with Miss Scott! I fancy I know very well the risk posed by the fair folk. And I repeat, you will not destroy that heart.” Pip took a deep breath, relaxing his grip on Thomas’s hand. When he spoke, it was in the tones usually reserved for his supernatural investigations combined with a note of determination that pierced Thomas’s heart directly. “We will use what we know of the fair folk to create a barrier that will ensure they can neither harass you nor play their tricks on the wider public. Iron perhaps, crosses, salt—we have many tools at our disposal. And we shall employ them all.”

Thomas struggled to speak past the lump in his throat. He squeezed Pip’s hand. “If I know anything about the fair folk, they will not make this easy.“

Pip’s jaw tightened. “Neither will we.”

23

“Thomas?” A hand on his arm.

Cross blinked, his surroundings snapping into focus. He stood at his bedroom window at Foxwood Court, leaning against the sill. One arm rested against the pane, his other hand lightly balanced on his hip—the posture of a younger man. Cross no longer experienced the myriad aches and pains of his advanced years, but the memory of them lingered. He dropped his arm, and turned, looking into Pip’s worried expression. “Were you calling me?”

“Repeatedly.” Pip’s eyes searched his face. “Where did you go?”

“Go?” Cross looked around his bedroom, from the wooden frame of the antique four poster to the press containing his wardrobe. The familiar furniture held no clue to why he’d returned to the room.

“We were in the library, discussing how best to fortify the house.” Pip prompted, not taking his eyes off Cross.

“You left the room to fetch a book.” Cross rubbed his temple. “I do not recall anything that happened after that.”

“That was quarter of an hour ago.” Pip sagged slightly. “I don’t like this.”

The train journey from Liverpool to London, and thence to Rotheram had given them a respite. There had been no whispers, no shadows. Cross had begun to wonder if they’d successfully put the fairy folk behind them.

The carriage ride from the Rotheram station to Cross’s ancestral home of Foxwood Court put an end to that notion. The amount of shadows glimpsed through the branches of the trees in Foxwood Park suggested not a mere presence, but a host of them. Several times their carriage had come to a stop, the horses unnerved by something unseen.

Cross had looked to Pip, seen his own thoughts reflected in the tightening of Pip’s jaw. They had no time to waste. As soon as they arrived at Foxwood Court, they’d retired to the library, sequestering themselves with Pip’s books and his collection of occult paraphernalia as they formed a plan.

“Neither do I.” A chill had settled over him, at odds with the September sun, bright outside the window. A man could do a lot of harm in fifteen minutes… Cross looked down at his hands, as if they could tell him what had transpired in the time he’d been absent.

“What is the purpose in bringing you here?” Pip wondered out loud, looking around the bedroom. “Unless it is simply to show their hand. They do not seem to be hiding their presence any longer.”

“No.” Cross’s jaw clenched. The boldness of the fairy contingent seemed to have grown in response to his and Pip’s plans. Did they see no reason to conceal their presence any longer? Or