Page 552 of Flirting with Darkness

He considered bringing Augustine with him, or even Maggie, who he knew would likely disapprove of every part of this, even before he spoke with her. There was a comfort in having friends and allies nearby, even if in the guise of servants.

In the end, however, he opted to go alone.

He told them to remain behind in London and wait for him.

Augustine appeared thoughtful once Ghost told them of this.

Maggie, as expected, thought him insane for going at all.

“This is childish.” She scowled at him, clearly controlling herself with an effort. She folded her arms, staring at him in the way only Maggie could stare. “It is foolish… and childish. We have a good situation here, Lazarus. We have money. You have a good name. Why would you put it all at risk for a man who threw you aside without a care in the world? Without so much as a glob of spittle aimed at you or your dear mum?”

Augustine remained silent.

Ghost remained silent, as well.

Later, when Maggie realized she’d get no good answer from him, none that was real anyway, not on this, her scowl deepened. She knew him. She knew he’d made up his mind entirely before telling her a word, that anything she said now would just be screaming into a rainstorm. Seconds after he saw her understand this, she left.

Still, he felt some guilt at her leaving.

He’d seen the emotion in her face.

Despite her toughness, Maggie had a soft heart.

She was obviously perturbed. She obviously feared he’d only get himself killed, or worse, his heart broken, his life destroyed a second time by this man.

Augustine spoke only after Mags had gone out the door.

“What is it you want from him?” he asked. “Is it money?”

The older man paused, and the pause held meaning.

“Money?” he repeated. “Or something more?”

An innocent-seeming question.

Augustine managed to ask it with no emotion in his voice, no inflection, no insinuation. He asked it like one might inquire about the weather, or a new hat.

Ghost knew what Augustine really meant by asking, however.

Augustine wished to know if Ghost intended to kill the animal who impregnated his mother with his seed, then threw her, and Ghost, out to die in the elements. Augustine wondered if Ghost intended to murder his own father once he got inside his father’s palatial estate.

The truth of it was, Ghost hadn’t himself decided that question yet.

He knew he intended to make him pay… in one way or another.

If that consisted only of liberating his father of a large quantity of gold, so be it.

Ghost strongly suspected it would not be so simple, however.

Regardless of whether he decided in the end to kill the old man or not, nothing about this journey would be simple or clean.

In the meantime, he allowed himself the ambiguity of indecision.

He did not know the answer to whether his father would live or die as he boarded the boat from London to the coast of France. He did not know the answer when he boarded his first train in Bruges. Even now, on his third train across the desolate, wet land of winter between Paris and Berlin, Ghost did not know. Nor did he plan to think on it too deeply for the remainder of his trip, not until he looked his father in the eye.

Until then, any speculation as to what he would do or not do was merely a mechanism for passing the time. Ghost would meet him, face to face. After that, he felt certain he would know exactly which course he must take.

He paid for a first class compartment all the way through.

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