Page 42 of The Shadow of the Count
“So will we.” Peter was a little worried.
Yvgeny gave Clark an admiring glance. “You have all you need.”
Jeb rumbled sourly, giving Yvgeny a bit of a glare.
“I want this over with. This is—I need Lyle to be at rest.” Don sounded like the edges of his control were fraying already, and they had a long, grisly night ahead of them.
“We wait for dark, gents.” Clark looked each of them in the eyes. “We need some supplies.”
“Like what? What do we need?” Peter asked, his academic brain needing to be prepared for this.
Yvgeny slipped away, and Peter had the feeling it was because Don would do better without him there.
He knew he was right when Clark started ticking off items. “Well, I have holy water, but we’ll need a shovel or an axe, some wooden stakes, sharpened, and a hammer.”
Douglas’s eyes widened. “You cannot be serious.”
“Would I joke about something like this?” Clark shot back.
“No.” Douglas held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just shocked.”
“Well, ain’t none of us got the luxury to be squeamish,” Jeb said.
“No, of course not.” Peter rolled his shoulders. “What else?”
“I have a Bible. Any other objects of faith might help.”
“I have my cross in my pocket,” Jeb said, and Charles pulled one from his shirt on a chain.
“I doubt a dictionary would help,” Peter said drily, hoping to lighten the mood. Don did smile faintly at him, but Jeb just rolled his eyes, and Clark pursed his lips.
Difficult room this afternoon.
“There will be an axe in the gardener’s shed, as well as wood,” was Don’s offering.
“Then I’ll head out there,” Jeb said, immediately leaving the room.
Clark watched him leave. “This disturbs him a great deal more than he’d like to let on.”
“As it does us all,” Peter chided.
Clark raised an eyebrow. “I am perfectly happy to admit how discomfited I am.”
“Well, you all know I’d rather do anything else, and Charles isn’t dancing in the streets.” Don’s voice was dry as dust.
“Nope.” Charles rolled his eyes. “Though I hope not to get possessed or courted by a dusty dead man.”
Peter laughed. “Not your turn this time, Charles.”
“Let’s not have any of us take a turn, shall we?” Douglas rolled his eyes right back. “I prefer we just take this particular horror out.”
“Of course.” Charles went to Douglas and took his hand. “I was only teasing, love.”
“I know. I just have less than fond memories of almost losing you.” Douglas seemed so carefree most of the time, but every so often they got a glimpse of the pain he had to have suffered.
Charles made soothing noises, and Clark gagged audibly. “Like treacle, you two. And I think Peter was being pointed. Did you mean Lyle was the object of the count’s desire, or is something else going on?”
“At the count’s castle, there was a painting of Donald. An old one.” He hated to admit it, because he knew how utterly insane it sounded, but he knew he had to tell all.
