Page 31 of The Shadow of the Count
Don looked at Yvgeny, reaching out to touch his arm. “You have my gratitude.”
Yvgeny smiled, the expression only slightly wistful. “Peter Hilliard is a special man. Remember that, and it will be all I need.”
Peter flushed, but he had to admit, it was nice to hear.
Don’s eyebrow went up, but he nodded and his words were mild. “I do. I missed him terribly. Thank you.”
Douglas snorted but never said a word. He only found them a place to sit, away from other passengers and inside, out of the wind.
“So tell me what we need to know about this count,” Douglas said softly once they were settled. “And keep your voices down.”
Yvgeny leaned in, muttering low. “He’s been in that castle since anyone can remember. He has men that are loyal to him—nomads that know nothing but his words. They are mesmerized by him.”
“The count has records of his family up until about the turn of the seventeenth century. Then just him. Over and over the count signed for all sorts of things. Legal letters and land purchases and more. I think I learned too much about him.”Peter had been able to read records in Latin and French.
“Do you have any proof?” Don asked, and he shrugged.
“I got away with a few pieces, so some.” He wouldn’t pull it out here, but it was a small ledger from the eighteenth century. It was mad. “What about you?”
“There was a ship from Varna that wrecked the same night we had a terrible storm. Everyone on board died. That storm—Lyle and I saw…eyes. Watching us. From the clouds.” Donald picked at his sleeve, not meeting their gazes. “I know it sounds like a fantasy.”
“No. I ran from beasts, women. They wanted to devour me. They were his slaves.”
“Peter.” Donnie touched his arm. “That’s what’s happened to Lyle. And it started the night of the storm.”
“He left. He was heading to England. He said so. He was going to go somewhere else, but at the last minute, he changed his plans.”
“Damn it. Damn it all.” When they all looked at Douglas, he shook his head. “I just hope Clark knows how to kill him.”
“That would be a good skill,” Yvgeny agreed.
“It would. Clark has an array of amazing skills.”Douglas’s eyes danced with mirth.
Donnie and Peter both laughed at the constant joke. If Jeb were there, he would roll his eyes and say, “You got no idea, fellers.”
“I’m sorry about your friend, Don. I didn’t know the dream was real.”
“I know, Peter. How could you? And how are we to say he wasn’t coming to England anyway?”
Well, Peter knew that, but he left it alone. He wasn’t going to push his theory that the count was there for Donnie again right now.
Yvgeny nodded gravely. “He buys land in many places. He cannot come in, uninvited.”
“What? We didn’t invite him in!” Don exclaimed, but Peter wasn’t sure that mattered. The young man had been on the balcony.
“Lyle might have, but it sounds like he charmed Lyle out to him, Donnie.” That was Douglas, who was imminently practical when Charles was not the target of a mummy.
“Douglas, this Polidorus is not a charming fellow, trust me.” Peter was very, very sure.
“I meant magically, Peter. Perhaps mesmerism is a better word for it. Like Yvgeny says the count has done to his men.”
Donnie nodded slowly. “Maybe. Lyle said he felt drugged sometimes. Like he was being pulled out of himself and dragged outside.”
“I do understand that. The demon women, they called to me. They called my name.” Peter shuddered. “I resisted them, but I had you to think of, to come back to.”
“They are dangerous. Seductive. They make a man want them and then eat him.” Yvgeny shuddered. “And they want what he covets.”
Don’s eyes were huge. “What he covets?”
