Page 48 of The Shadow of the Count
Clark walked to the call button and pressed. “I need to send a message to Dr. Richard, please.”
“Of course, sir. Right away.”
Clark scribbled out a quick note and put it in an envelope, then handed it off, with instructions for getting it to the doctor at the asylum at once.
The servant scurried out, and they all stared at each other. Finally, Clark poured them all more coffee. “Well. Hopefully, he gets back to us while we still have a few hours of daylight.”
“We have to destroy him. We’ll just have a repeat of last night, eh?” Jeb asked.
“Sounds like a good plan. We might need the good doctor and Yvgeny though. Lyle was basically a newborn.” Clark sounded grim.
Peter understood. The count was…old. Powerful. “He took boxes of earth with him. Moldy, ancient earth.”
“That makes sense,” Jeb said. “Clark here says they need their grave dirt so they can survive. They can’t sleep without it.”
“Yvgeny said the same thing.” Peter chewed his lip. “So it would have to be someplace close to this house, but like this place, with some land still with it, or with extensive outbuildings. Maybe its own burial area.”
“Hmm… It would need to be out of the city then, wouldn’t you think?”
“On the edge, to be sure, but this is an older section. You go a few miles and you could find a place…” Clark clearly knew more about London than him or Jeb. “Not that far for a beast like you and I saw, Peter.”
“True. It was—unnatural. Sincerely unnatural.”
“Like efreets in Egypt, these creatures can sometime change forms.”
Peter looked at Clark keenly. “How do you know so much?”
“I studied to be a priest. I was well on my way to being an exorcist.” Clark shook his head. “The church knows far more about things of this nature than you would think.”
“Why did you stop?” he asked, and Clark chuckled.
“Because, my friend, I like sex. And I’m incredibly good at it.”
Jeb made a sound that was half laugh and half snort, and he didn’t want to think too hard about what that meant. So he let it go and winked at Clark instead. “Once I would have called you a fool. Now I know better.”
Jeb did snort now. “A gent doesn’t kiss and tell, Peter.”
“I would never,” he said with fake affrontedness. “But I would never deny him, either. Never again.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Douglas walked in, his robe flapping. He came to clap Peter on the shoulder. “He deserves someone that’s proud to be with him.”
He was. He honestly was over the moon to have his Don by his side. And now he believed he was what Donnie needed too.
Peter nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I’ve only ever been ashamed of myself.”
“Don’t let the bastards do that to you,” Jeb growled. “It ain’t right. Just stare them down over the barrel of your Colt.”
Peter barked out a laugh. “Thank you, Jeb. I prefer the pen to the sword, but the sentiment is well taken.”
Jeb winked at him, the dark eyes dancing. “I reckon so.”
“Stop it, you.” He had to grin back. While he knew the worst was not behind them, they had helped Lyle as they could, had taken action, and that felt good.
His biggest worry was Don. His heart. His soul.
Peter grabbed a plate, deciding to let Don sleep rather than taking him a meal. He would make sure the kitchen held something back if Don didn’t get up soon.
“Donnie’s sleeping in, is he? That’s how he deals with upset, you know.” Douglas plopped down with his coffee.
