His Lordship Possessed

from a brothel called the Eagle’s Nest.”

“That was a ruse, to protect Carina and her gels from Walsh’s men.” I watched Harry throw up his hands in disgust and felt a dismal satisfaction. “I want to go home, Inspector.”

“You don’t have a home. Your property and monies have been seized by the Crown.” Doyle studied my face. “You’ve the clothes on your back, Kit. Now do you want to tell me what the bloody hell happened here?”

The door to the adjoining suite opened, and Lord Lucien Dredmore swept into the room. His cloak swirled with imperial elegance, and the points of his snowy neckcloth stood in stiff relief against his dark skin. In his eyes I saw a dreadful shadowy presence, as if the evil demon inside him were looking out of them like windows.

“I can tell you,” the thing pretending to be Dredmore said as he strode forward, his gleaming boots thumping on the floor as the beaters scattered from his path.

“Lord Dredmore.” Doyle’s features took on a decidedly bland cast as he inclined his head just enough to suit courtesy. “You witnessed something?”

“Yes.” He lifted his hand and pointed at my face. “This woman murdered Lord Walsh.”

In the five seconds of astounded silence that followed, I noticed that Harry had vanished again, Dredmore had acquired a faint Talian accent, and Doyle appeared ready to commit murder himself. Then, without devoting much thought to it, I relieved the inspector of his blade and launched myself at Dredmore, only to be hauled back by a strong arm.

“Kit.” Doyle wrestled the knife from my hand before he shoved me away. “Have you gone mad?”

“That is not Lucien Dredmore. Before Walsh killed himself, he forced the spirit of an evil warlord into Dredmore’s body.” I told Doyle the rest of it as quickly as I could, and added, “He calls him Zarath. He and the Talians have come to take over Toriana and go to war with the Crown. He’ll use Lucien’s power to do it.”

Dredmore smiled. “Such an entertaining tale. You should have become a novel writer instead of murdering fine gentlemen.”

Now I would have no trouble at all killing him. “Give me back that blade, Tommy.”

“You see?” The thing wearing Dredmore’s body cupped his fingers and snatched at the air. “She is on the rampage.”

“Give us the room,” Doyle said to the beaters, who hastily filed out.

“You must take her at once to prison,” Dredmore told him, “before she kills again.”

“Is that right.” Doyle glanced at me. “I imagine I will, milord, but first I’d like you to answer two questions.”

“Of course,” the monster said. “Anything.”

Doyle watched him. “If Miss Kittredge murdered Lord Walsh, then how did she end up bound and helpless in this room?”

“Obviously she arranged to be found so,” the monster replied. “It would make anyone believe her innocent of the crime she has committed.”

“You put me here after you killed Walsh and Lucien, you evil ass.” I tried to dodge round Doyle again, but he caught me and held me fast.

“Right. Just one final question, then, milord,” Doyle said. “What’s Miss Kittredge’s given name?”

Dredmore’s eyes blinked. “I don’t understand what you say.”

“You’ve known her for several years,” the inspector said. “You’ve paid to have her investigated, harassed, and even snatched from the street a time or two, or so I’ve been told. Tell me her given name.”

“He doesn’t know.” My smile turned acid. “Because he’s not Dredmore.”

The thing lunged at Tommy, punching him in the gut and then the face, so fast his movements became blurred. The inspector flew across the room, hit the wall, and slid to the floor.

I braced myself for the same, but before it could touch me, Harry materialized between us. In his hand he held a pale stone that gave off beams of light. “Never even think it, spirit-eater. This child carries my blood.”

Zarath reared back, lifting his hands to block the light, and cursed viciously in Talian as he backed away.

“That’s right,” Harry said, following after him. “Get out.”

I went to Doyle, who lay groaning and hugging his middle, and checked him over. Blood streamed from his nose, and I found a huge knot on the back of his head, but otherwise he was all right.

Suddenly the door to the room slammed shut and one of the beaters came in. “He’ll be fine,” he told me as he pocketed the pale stone. He was the beater who had snickered at me, but he wasn’t laughing now. “I’ve sent the other coppers downstairs to clear the hall. Now, you’re to leave Rumsen, this very minute. Get as far from the city as you can manage before dawn.”

I eyed him. “I thought you were arresting me.”

“Oh, for the love of Victoria—it’s me, Harry, Charm.” The beater knelt down and looked over Doyle’s bloodied features. “Blind me, this is Arthur’s grandson. Fancy him becoming a Yardman. Ah, well.” He tried to pull me away from him. “You’ve little time left before the sun rises. I’ll help you procure—”

I slapped the beater’s broad cheek. “Why didn’t you come to help us? Why didn’t you stop them from hurting Lucien?”

“I couldn’t.” He winced and probed the reddening side of his face. “Did you have to smack me so hard?” When I curled my fingers into a fist, he said quickly, “I couldn’t stop them or help them. I’m not part of this war. I can’t be.”

“Oh, so you’re a coward as well as a traitor.” I turned my back on him. “Why didn’t you say so?”

Light blasted me from behind, and when I squinted over my shoulder I saw the beater floating six inches above the carpet and glowing like a cop-shaped sun. At the same time everything in the room began to blow about as if in a high wind.

“You dare insult me,” Harry said, his voice booming so loudly the windows rattled. “With the power I command, I could banish you to the netherside with a single thought.”

“Is this how you generally behave toward family?” I sniffed. “And you wonder why my mother wanted no part of you.”

The light vanished, and the beater’s feet dropped down on the floor. “My apologies,” Harry said meekly. “My temper sometimes gets the better of me.”

Doyle stirred, groaning a little.

“Help me with him,” I said.

“I can’t be a part of this conflict,” he said as he moved to the door. “Good-bye, Charm.” Out he went.

“Harry.” I rose to go after him, only to be yanked back down by a strong hand. “Doyle, let go of me. He’s getting away.”

“Yes, and you’re not.” With another groan he shoved himself upright and staggered to his feet, still gripping my wrist with an iron hand. He bellowed out two names, and a pair of his beaters rushed into the room. Neither of them appeared to be possessed by my grandfather.

“Lord Travallian has just assaulted me to escape custody. He’s not right in the head. Find him and bring him back to the station.” Doyle held up a hand. “Be discreet.”

The beaters touched the brims of their helmets before they trotted out.

“Brilliant.” I wanted to slap him. “I told you, that thing is not Dredmore.”

“Right, it’s an ancient magical being that possessed his body, and if we don’t stop him, he’s going to start a war.” He prodded the back of his head and winced. “How does he mean to do that again? Toss a few pebbles at the whole of the militia?”

“More like a thousand or so Talians,” I snapped. “He can command entire armies with his mind, and he has Dredmore’s powers now as well. For God’s sake, Tommy, stop rolling your eyes at me like that. He’s an immortal warlord, I tell you.”

He shook his head. “You’ve been drugged and knocked about, Kit. If Dredmore had told you he was the Queen, you’d have believed him.”

I told him how wrong he was as he hustled me from the room, down the stairs, and out the hotel. I repeated the entire story as he pushed me into his carri and told his driver to take us to a street in the better part of the working-class quarter. I didn’t begin begging until we arrived at a narrow greystone sandwiched between a carriwright and a pottery.