Page 29 of All My Broken Dreams

Intentionally to get some space? Or was Sarah Listowel right and Harry had been taken.

Taken by a powerful father who decided it was time to claw his flesh and blood back.

And then there was the mysterious Deacon Wake. How was he involved? There was a connection between them that Deacon was hiding from her. No proof, just a gut instinct that told her this trip was important and could have the answers she needed.

Her hand hesitated, refusing to turn the knob. Where Deacon was going was none of her business, her illness reasoned. There was no sense in following him when she could just ask him when he got back.

Harry left a message because he needs help. If you let this chance slip away, Sarah will hate you for the rest of her life.

Only a powerful desire to prove her mother wrong was incentive enough to turn the knob and step into the foyer.

Then came the front door.

Her chest felt like it was stuck in a vise when she opened the door. The night air was crisp and fresh with snow. She hesitated, controlling the queasy sloshing in her stomach.

You don’t have to do this. He’s probably just checking on the cats. Go back inside.

Robbie took three deep breaths, closed her eyes and stepped outside.

The front door slammed behind her.

Only then did she remember that she didn’t have a key to get back in. Mrs. Cameron was going to have one made for her. The door to the flat was unlocked but the front door to the building wasn’t. She had no choice but to follow Deacon Wake. He was her only way back inside.

Snow misted the lamplight and softened visibility. She couldn’t hear his footsteps at first. Then there was a slapping echo along the cobbles. His pace was slow; she could easily catch up, as long as she trailed far enough behind to keep him in sight but avoid notice.

She followed him through a series of twists and turns down narrow laneways until he reached a stone gothic archway sealed with a heavy wrought iron gate. Deacon withdrew a key from his coat pocket and with a twist, he yanked it open and ducked inside.

Before it could swing shut, Robbie darted between the gap just ahead of the clang of metal connecting with stone.

The alley was constructed of brick, like a passageway of some kind. Deacon strode ahead through the swirling snow and then he vanished out of sight.

Casey Manderville lounged in front of the fire, his eyes closed, one arm hanging languidly over the edge of the sofa, while the other rested on his narrow chest.

His cousin was having another one of his spells. A half-empty decanter of scotch sat on the floor next to a crystal tumbler. Casey had been drinking again. Deacon thought he was off the sauce until Christmas. He tossed his cousin a glance as he made his way to the table where the others were seated.

Snow dusted against the windows. The drapes had not been drawn; a serious breach of protocol, signaling the general upset that Robbie’s presence had caused. Lamps were lit throughout the room and even with the fire, the room was dim.

They were all gathered in answer to Alastair’s summons. An emergency meeting to discuss the situation with Robbie Listowel. Deacon was expected to provide a full report of his conversations with the girl and tell them everything she had learned so far.

“She contacted the Dean of Admissions and was told there was no student by the name of Harry Listowel registered at Locksley Hall.”

“That’s right,” Casey drawled. “Harry had not earned his wings yet. He was still on probation.”

Deacon addressed his uncle. “That’s what prompted the search. She flew out here to find him because the Hall had no record. She would never have made the trip otherwise.”

The furnishings at Dugald Croft were upholstered in plush burgundy and the wood was dark. Glossy, highly polished, light gleamed against it unpleasantly. There were six of them ranged along either side of the table. Long stemmed glasses of ruby red wine and plates of oatcakes were on the table in front of each member of Fuil Bratach.

Behind each chair was the banner of the house they represented.

Deacon knew their names by heart though he would never be one of them. Seated at the far side of the tablewas Reginald Talbot. Blood name:Archer. Tall, distinguished, wearing a mask of boredom. Unwholesome tastes in sex.

Beside him to his right was Lester Hanover. Blood name:Gunner. Short, ginger hair, blue eyes that were ice cold and cruel. Vicious temperament.

To his right, Penelope Carmichael. Blood name:Wulven. A dark haired beauty, tall and deceptively aloof. Jealous to the point of madness.

Seated opposite those three were: Phillip Marchbank. Blood name:Falcon. Beside him was Millicent Dewhurst. Blood name:Raven. They were lovers from adolescence. Quite possibly related. No one talked about it.

The empty chair was for Casey Manderville: Blood name:Bannerman.The handsome, weak, silver-tongued son of Alastair Manderville and Deacon’s cousin.

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