spirits and visions. Are we not men of science, logic, and education?”
“Of course we are, but what difference does that make?” asked Aldus. “Did you not see logic in what Lady Alethea said when she explained, even defended, such gifts? And what of the fact that you saw her eyes in your fire at the same time she saw you in her fire?”
“She is simply well-practiced in mouthing logical explanations for things that are not logical. As for the fire, the eyes, and all of that, I am sure there is a logical explanation for that, too.”
“Come, Hartley, there are many, many things we accept as truth that are not logical in the least. We have all accepted a fellow soldier’s intuition, even his prophetic belief that he will not survive a certain battle.”
“She said that,” Hartley muttered.
Aldus ignored him and continued. “We have all felt that moment of blind intuition ourselves, that certain sense about something or someone, and we heed it without question, or nearly so. And have we not all, at some time, felt that chill, that tickle of suspicion, even fear, that we are suddenly not alone? Why is it so difficult to believe that some people may have a keener sense of such things, a true gift for seeing and knowing things we cannot?”
“Because it is strange?” Hartley drawled, but found himself very much in accord with his friend’s opinion.
“Very strange indeed. However, one cannot deny the truth of her sketchbook. Nor are the Vaughns out to wrest money from anyone. It would certainly explain why the Vaughns are all such recluses. I would certainly be wary about where I went and who I accepted as a friend if I were burdened with such a gift.”
“Can you not imagine what value such gifts would have in our work?” asked Gifford.
The three men stared at each other and then frowned in thought. The value of such gifts was all too easy to see. Hartley suspected they would be thought mad if they presented the idea to their superiors, however.
“Iago said he did not have the gift of how a man thought or felt,” murmured Gifford. “It makes one wonder if one of that clan actually does possess such a skill.”
“Bloody hell, just imagine what one could make of that.” Aldus shook his head and then looked at Hartley. “Is that what you intend to do? Use them? Is that why we will be meeting with them again?”
“Yes.” Hartley dragged his hand through his hair, making a mess of his neat queue. “I may waver in believing how they came to know so much about those cursed sisters, but the fact is, they do know a lot. They might also learn more. Right now, I would accept anything, even some pagan ritual done under a full moon, if it will halt the killing.”
Chapter 4
“That was unpleasant,” Iago said as he finished off the brandy a concerned Alethea had served him.
Alethea sat next to her uncle on the thickly cushioned settee where he had collapsed after Margarite and Claudette had left. He had made use of her sketchbook, but she had not yet found the courage to look at what he had drawn. After what he had seen clinging to Claudette, she knew the images would be sad, even dark. Instead, she had busied herself in getting him a drink in the hope of putting a little color back into his cheeks. Her venture into London may have been prompted by the best of intentions, but it was proving to have a lot of frightening pitfalls she had not anticipated.
“Perhaps we should step aside,” she said. “The warning has been given. ’Tis enough, is it not?”
“No, and in your heart, you know that to be true. You were right to say it has become our responsibility.” Iago smiled weakly and patted her hands where they lay tightly clenched together in her lap. “I was prepared this time, but you must give me leave to suffer a moment’s weakness after the ordeal. And the two of them together was very much an ordeal.” He shook his head. “It seems a sin to have such beauty encase such evil. Evil as
“Of course we are, but what difference does that make?” asked Aldus. “Did you not see logic in what Lady Alethea said when she explained, even defended, such gifts? And what of the fact that you saw her eyes in your fire at the same time she saw you in her fire?”
“She is simply well-practiced in mouthing logical explanations for things that are not logical. As for the fire, the eyes, and all of that, I am sure there is a logical explanation for that, too.”
“Come, Hartley, there are many, many things we accept as truth that are not logical in the least. We have all accepted a fellow soldier’s intuition, even his prophetic belief that he will not survive a certain battle.”
“She said that,” Hartley muttered.
Aldus ignored him and continued. “We have all felt that moment of blind intuition ourselves, that certain sense about something or someone, and we heed it without question, or nearly so. And have we not all, at some time, felt that chill, that tickle of suspicion, even fear, that we are suddenly not alone? Why is it so difficult to believe that some people may have a keener sense of such things, a true gift for seeing and knowing things we cannot?”
“Because it is strange?” Hartley drawled, but found himself very much in accord with his friend’s opinion.
“Very strange indeed. However, one cannot deny the truth of her sketchbook. Nor are the Vaughns out to wrest money from anyone. It would certainly explain why the Vaughns are all such recluses. I would certainly be wary about where I went and who I accepted as a friend if I were burdened with such a gift.”
“Can you not imagine what value such gifts would have in our work?” asked Gifford.
The three men stared at each other and then frowned in thought. The value of such gifts was all too easy to see. Hartley suspected they would be thought mad if they presented the idea to their superiors, however.
“Iago said he did not have the gift of how a man thought or felt,” murmured Gifford. “It makes one wonder if one of that clan actually does possess such a skill.”
“Bloody hell, just imagine what one could make of that.” Aldus shook his head and then looked at Hartley. “Is that what you intend to do? Use them? Is that why we will be meeting with them again?”
“Yes.” Hartley dragged his hand through his hair, making a mess of his neat queue. “I may waver in believing how they came to know so much about those cursed sisters, but the fact is, they do know a lot. They might also learn more. Right now, I would accept anything, even some pagan ritual done under a full moon, if it will halt the killing.”
Chapter 4
“That was unpleasant,” Iago said as he finished off the brandy a concerned Alethea had served him.
Alethea sat next to her uncle on the thickly cushioned settee where he had collapsed after Margarite and Claudette had left. He had made use of her sketchbook, but she had not yet found the courage to look at what he had drawn. After what he had seen clinging to Claudette, she knew the images would be sad, even dark. Instead, she had busied herself in getting him a drink in the hope of putting a little color back into his cheeks. Her venture into London may have been prompted by the best of intentions, but it was proving to have a lot of frightening pitfalls she had not anticipated.
“Perhaps we should step aside,” she said. “The warning has been given. ’Tis enough, is it not?”
“No, and in your heart, you know that to be true. You were right to say it has become our responsibility.” Iago smiled weakly and patted her hands where they lay tightly clenched together in her lap. “I was prepared this time, but you must give me leave to suffer a moment’s weakness after the ordeal. And the two of them together was very much an ordeal.” He shook his head. “It seems a sin to have such beauty encase such evil. Evil as
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