Page 65 of The Shadow of the Count
“You’re thinking hard,” Clark told him. “That man never does anything without purpose. Don’t ponder it so deeply.”
He’d long thought that Clark Chambers could read minds. Donnie snorted. “He’s fond of his own mystique.”
“That he is. But he has his reasons.”
“Like what? Does he care what we pay to be in his merry band of lunatics?” Look at Douglas, legs useless, in pain…
“He cares deeply.” Clark’s eyes took on a haunted expression. “He pays a price as well, trust me.”
“We been touched,” Jeb whispered. “Drawn to this, and there ain’t a bit of good in resisting God’s will.”
He stared at Jeb for a moment, surprised by the fervent sound. But Jeb was a cowboy. Faith ran deep with his ilk, so it shouldn’t be a surprise.
Donald had faith in Douglas and Peter, and the count had wounded them both seriously.
All for what? A long-dead love who wouldn’t return anymore than the spirit of the dead lover in Egypt would stay buried… Donnie understood deep love. He had it for Peter. But he hoped he never ran to such a deep obsession that he wouldn’t let someone rest once they were gone.
Peter’s fingers wrapped around his, squeezing them tightly.
He summoned a smile for his lover. Yes. Peter understood.
The wagon ride was…uncomfortable. But soon enough a farmstead came into view, the mountains beyond looming dark and ominous.
They made him shudder, made him close his eyes and want to hide. He could almost feel the count watching him from the heights, and he gagged.
Peter patted his cheek, staring into his eyes, the question clear. No. No he was not well.
But they had a job to do; they had the world to save.
So they would have to do their best.
“Here we are, my friends. You are welcome here. My father says he will help in any way he can.”
The home was warm and surprisingly cozy, simple but genuinely lovely. He was…less critical of Yvgeny after their days of traveling together. He seemed to genuinely be Peter’s friend, not pining for him, and that went a long way with Donnie.
“I think we should make sure the house is safe before we powwow on our plans, yeah?”
“Yes, of course.” Yvgeny wasn’t offended, thank goodness. “Come, we will do…how do you say, Jeb? Our rounds.”
“You got it. Let the others rest.” The big Texan stood, filling the space.
“I’ll get Donnie and Peter settled.” When he drew in breath to protest, Clark shook his head. “You look nearly transparent, Donnie. And Peter has a carved apple look to him.”
Peter nodded, hand hot on his back for a moment. Was he feverish? Donnie hoped not, but he might well be.
He took a deep breath, then nodded as well. “Then we’ll rest. As long as you promise to wake us when everyone discusses what to do.”
“You need to be involved, Donald. You have my word.” Clark’s words were sure, confident.
“Good. Good. All right then, lead on.”
Clark shook hands with an older man who looked like Yvgeny, then led him and Peter back to a room with a pallet on the floor before a small fireplace. He had a feeling it was the most comfortable space in the house made up just for them.
“Sleep, hmm? Rest your souls. Tomorrow will be a difficult day.”
“It will be over soon.” That Donnie knew. One way or the other. The count had killed thousands of people.
He had to be stopped once and for all.
