Page 21 of The Shadow of the Count
The man that had run into him was sitting at the bar. He could tell by the hat. How unfortunate to be in the same place as he was.
He glared at the fellow’s back, and Douglas followed his gaze. “Someone you know?”
“Almost knocked me down on the dock. I have no wish to know him.”
“Huh. He’s watching you.”
“He can stick it in his boot.” Donnie found them a table. There was a barmaid, it looked like. That way no one had to approach that man at the bar. His stare was…off-putting.He didn’t need that nonsense. His lover was in danger, for goodness’ sake.
“So I know you want to wait for the others to tell all,” Douglas said. “But are you all right? No one has hurt you?”
“No. No, this is about Lyle and Peter. Separately, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, damn. I was hoping Peter would be heading to you.”
“There’s been no answer to my letters, and I sent a wire to the authorities in the nearest town. They couldn’t help me, they said. Monsieur Grant is looking for him.”
“Then we’ll make plans to go after him.” Douglas glanced up, frowning. “Are you sure you haven’t met the gentleman at the bar? He’s still staring.”
“I have not.” He raised his chin but didn’t look. “At any rate, Lyle is also a worrisome case. Ever since the big storm, he’s been failing.”
Charles frowned over. “Big storm? What happened? Why was it different?”
“There was…” Donnie took a deep breath. “It was like in the desert. Otherworldly. There were eyes.”
“Eyes?”
He happened to look up in the mirror behind the bar, checking to see if the man had gone, and he wasn’t there. Thank goodness. “Yes. Eyes.”
“Explain,” Douglas demanded.
Donnie told them the whole story, from the party through the asylum and to the clouds that had been so ominous. “Then Lyle went out into the night and almost caught his death and has been failing ever since.”
He looked up again, and he’d be damned. It was as if the man at the bar hadn’t moved.
So he glanced at the mirror. His blood ran cold. Not there.
Douglas frowned at him. “What? What’s wrong?”
His lips parted, but he couldn’t speak. He put a hand to his throat, his breath catching there with a gurgle.
“Donnie?” Douglas grabbed his shoulders. “What is it?”
He pointed, praying that someone—one of them—saw it too.
Charles gasped, and there was a blur of motion, a few startled shouts, and the tightness in his throat let go.
Donnie tried to draw air, wheezing.
“I saw it. Don. Or rather, I didn’t.” Charles patted him gently on the back.
“I couldn’t speak. What was that? What on earth could that have been?”
“Magic?” Douglas asked. “Your erstwhile enemy left in a rush.”
“I couldn’t see him in the mirror, Douglas. He was there, but he wasn’t.” Charles understood. Thank God.
“Okay. Let’s go. We’ll pick up the dastardly duo.” Douglas shook his head. “We need them.”
