Infernal Vices (Resurrectionist #3)

CHAPTER 35

SETTLE THE SCORE

“How do you feel?” I asked Sebastian as helped I him back into Dancer’s garments. We were in the chilly vestry and I was quite relieved to step into my shirt, trousers, socks, and shoes.

“Still a little dazed, but remarkably alright for a dead man,” he chuckled. I buttoned his shirt, then pulled him into my arms and held on, needing to feel his warmth and the vital thrumming of his heart. What occurred not ten minutes before had terrified me to my core and I never wanted to let him go.

“Hush dear heart. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere,” Sebastian gentled, running his fingers through my curls.

“Damn right you’re not,” I agreed fervently, before taking his mouth for a needy kiss.

The Staff of Asklepios was blessedly back in its casket and I did not dare question what had occurred with it, for there madness lay! Sebastian and I joined Nissa and Charles in the nave. Charles had remained with us to set the scene for what we would tell the police once they arrived. He’d dressed Benjamin Cavendish in his suit, leaving the gunshot wound uncovered. Then he’d collected all masks and the extra robes, bundling them together, and then hid them in the woods. Sir Percy Faulkner and Judge Horatio Morehead sat useless and bereft on a pew bench staring at the lifeless body of Lawrence Blake.

“What have you done, child?” the elderly judge reprimanded sternly as he sent his patriarchal stare her way. “You’ll hang for this, girl, you mark my words, I’ll see you hang!” he sneered.

“I think not,” Sebastian preened an amused lilt to his voice. “Did you know you were in league with a master criminal with international arrest warrants pending?”

I joined Sebastian in turning the screw on the men who had seen fit to send Euan to a mental asylum. “Ahh, yes, Blake is wanted not only for fraud, but for abusing young boys, forcing them into prostitution, pornography, and for grand theft,” I added. The remaining colour leeched from Morehead’s chubby, whiskered face.

Sebastian took another turn. “Did you also know Lawrence Blake was the so-called Gentleman Thief who has been pilfering from high society? You’d have to wonder how a man like him, who came to London with no means, wheedled his way in, and was given access to society parties, to clubs, to private homes. I’d say that any associate of Lawrence Blake’s is culpable for enabling the thefts and may well have some explaining to do, don’t you?”

The older men grimaced murderously but remained silent. I supposed they were coming down from their drug and alcohol fuelled euphoria. Nissa strode across the nave to stand in front of the two men, “Now gentlemen, the authorities are on their way to arrest this lifeless bag of bones,” she said gesturing to the sprawled, body of the American. “You can be found here wearing red robes with your shrunken pricks on display and explain yourselves to the police or you can get dressed and inform them what really happened here.”

“Which is?” Faulkner snapped.

“That Ashe saw Blake put something into my wine, and then lure me away from the party. He alerted Mr. Cavendish who covertly assembled a party of men to look for me in the woods. Lights were seen in the church and you all happened upon the scoundrel. He had me held captive, at gunpoint, in a state of undress, and was trying to torture me for his own bestial pleasure using that ghastly apparatus on the bench. Mr. Cavendish and Mr. Blake argued and fought. Finally, they shot one another,” Nissa decided. “I am wearing discarded men’s garments because Blake ripped my dress off my body. You all witnessed the final showdown. Do you understand?”

“Ha! Stupid girl. Cavendish is still alive and so he can dismiss your fairy story, and he doesn’t have even a gun,” the judge scoffed.

Ashe walked over to where Benjamin was slumped, and checked the pulse at his throat. “He’s dead,” he announced without emotion. Nissa placed her pistol in Blake’s cold dead hand, and then drew a second pistol from the waistband of the gentleman’s trousers she wore. She tossed it onto the ground near Benjamin Cavendish’s splayed body.

“My hero!” Nissa said her tone dripping with sarcasm. It seemed our formidable Nissa had thought of everything!

“Very well,” the men grumbled agreement. They both rose and stumbled towards the vestry to get dressed.

“Oh, and while you’re so feeling so amiable, Judge Morehead,” I called after him, “As soon as you get back to the house, you’ll send a telegram to ensure the release of Lord Ardmillan from Colney Hatch Asylum. You will, of course, both offer him reparations of five hundred pounds each to cover his losses. Then you will retire from public life.”

Morehead spun and glared at me, “Retire from public life! You must be mad, Hannan. This is outrageous!” he spat angrily.

Sebastian spoke then, “No, what is outrageous is that you, sir, are a judge, and you Lord Faulkner, a lawyer for the crown. You both worked in cahoots with a criminal to remove Lord Ardmillan from society. You took actions to ensure Blake was given access to powerful men to further his goals. Jack Dancer was acting in an undercover capacity for the police. He knows all that you did to grease the wheels for Blake. If you would like him to continue with his inquiries, please, ignore all we’ve said and tell your side of the story.”

The men glared petulantly at Sebastian and then they both deflated as if their strings had been cut. Faulkner grimaced and Morehead nodded. They turned again and strode into the vestry to change clothes, and not a moment too soon, for as soon as they were back in their suits a fierce thumping on the main door to the nave made us all jump.

“Open up in the name of the law. Open up I say, or we’ll break this door down,” the fellow had a rough London accent and so I knew that finally, Dancer’s men had arrived. I turned to Charles,

“Do be a good chap and go around to let them in,” I said. Charles smiled, saluted, and did just that.

****