Page 26 of Ashes To Ashes
"Er, no."
"So what do you think she is?" Seth asked.
Lincoln pulled his black shirt over his head. "I don't know, but I intend to find out."
"You're going out?" Seth nodded at Lincoln's black shirt and the black woolen waistcoat. "Now? But it's miserable out there."
"I'm going to see what I can learn about her."
"By watching her sleep? That's not normal."
"My methods have never worried you before." Lincoln needed to know if she was the reason Gillingham hated supernaturals, perhaps enough to kill them. Something Gillingham had said to his wife on the balcony haunted Lincoln—he'd discovered her secret back in the summer. Charlie's existence had come to their attention in the summer. Could the two facts be linked? Could the discovery of Lady Gillingham's "true form" have led to him wanting to rid the world of all supernaturals?
"I've never voiced my opinion before." Seth crossed his arms. "I no longer feel like holding back. Is that a problem for you,sir?"
"Not as long as you don't have a problem with me ignoring you."
Gus gave a grudging laugh but it quickly died when Seth glared at him.
Lincoln pulled on his leather gloves with reinforced knuckles and slipped into his jacket and boots. He slid a knife down each boot and another into the waistband of his pants. He gave his men a nod and moved past them to the door.
"Her bedroom is the third window from the right, third level," Seth said.
Lincoln stopped. "You've been intimate with her?"
Seth shrugged one shoulder. "She's pretty and her husband wasn't paying her any attention. She needed…relief."
Gus scratched his neck. It was still damp from driving through the rain. "Did you notice anything about her? Did she…you know…act like a human woman does when she's…um…?"
"You mean did she cry out my name in ecstasy, bunch the sheets in her fists, and arch her back as her body shuddered?" Seth gave him a smug look. "Yes, she did all of that, and more. She acted as every other normal woman acts when I'm with her."
Gus rolled his eyes. "Want me to drive you, sir?"
"I'll walk," Lincoln said.
"But it'll take an age to get back to Mayfair."
"Not if I take the short route."
"What short route?"
"Over the roofs." His rooftop escape from O'Neill's place had been exhilarating. Tonight would be slipperier, but that would serve to keep Lincoln alert and his mind focused. Heneededto focus.
* * *
Lincoln slidup the window sash and listened to the even breathing of a slumbering person. She was loud for a young woman, and the dark lump in the bed was larger than he expected. Perhaps this wasn't Lady Gillingham's room after all, but that of her husband.
He removed his boots before climbing down from the sill and stepping silently on the floor. The breathing stopped. The lump moved. As silent as he'd been, she'd heard him—or sensed him.
She sat up. Turned toward him.
Fuck!
He stepped backward, smacking into the wall with a thump, like an amateur. His heartbeat quickened. The light may be low, but there was enough to see that the…thing sitting up in bed didn't have a woman's shape. It was large, thick, and covered with hair or fur.
"Who is it?" said a voice that matched Lady Gillingham's. "Who's there?"
For all his speed and agility, Lincoln wasn't fast enough. The creature—woman—leapt out of bed and wrapped its massive paws around his throat before he could move or utter a sound.
